Ch.8Request Log #002 – Giving and Receiving Help (3)

This city is quite segregated. Where you can and cannot go is determined by your race, status, and occupation.

And, as is typical in such cities, there are always people who can move between these divisions. People who take jobs from the business district and handle them in residential areas, or take jobs from residential areas and handle them in places like this.

Those of us who do this always have our methods. In my case, it was about making myself useful.

When you take on a wide range of jobs, you make enemies, but you also make friends. Generally, the comfort that comes from making friends outweighs the danger of making enemies.

I walk a block, enduring the unpleasant garbage smell in the streets. Across the road stands a building called Fairgarden Apartments, which must be the building the kobold mentioned.

Fairgarden, what a joke. The flower beds in front of the apartment have all withered and died, unable to withstand the exhaust fumes and stench, and the security guard at the entrance looks as dry and barren as if he were made from the same concrete as the building.

As I head straight for the apartment entrance, an orc with deep bronze skin extends his hand to block me. No building welcomed outsiders.

“Stop right there, this area is off-limits to outsiders. If you have an appointment with a resident, tell me the apartment number.”

Rather than fighting, it’s better to lie my way through. I’d said I stole drugs from the Italian guys, and since I hadn’t immediately ended up at the bottom of Long Island Sound, they must be giving me a chance to make amends.

What’s strange about saying I’m here to collect money? Nothing, except that I’m human. While the Italian mafia were all non-humans, many of their associates were human.

“The boss sent me to collect money from the girl who stole our drugs, so tell me which apartment Suzie Watkins is in.”

No proof was needed. It would be ridiculous if the mafia used documentation, and only organization members and the tobacco shop owner would know about the stolen drugs, so my words were proof enough.

The security guard immediately removes his hat and becomes respectful. He might get in trouble with the Italians, but he’s essentially reducing his workload by letting me take her to their boss.

“I, I see you’re new to this neighborhood. Sorry for not recognizing you. So, Suzie, Suzie… she’s in apartment 304. She’ll probably be with her friends, and might not be in her right mind, so be careful.”

Looks like grandma’s jewelry box was quite full. She’s high again before even paying for what she stole.

Suppressing the urge to make a snide remark, I pat the shoulder of the security guard who looks at least twenty years older than me, and head upstairs.

The door to apartment 304 was locked, but like all cheap apartments, the lock was terrible. I step back and kick the wooden doorknob clean off to enter. They can handle the repairs themselves.

The apartment interior was practically a garbage dump. Food wrappers were scattered everywhere, and there was a strong smell of mold, as if no one had cleaned up in a while. And despite it being the middle of the day, the only sound was snoring.

She’s in the bedroom. I push open the unlocked bedroom door and enter a room that smells as unpleasant as a cheap prostitute’s room.

Fortunately, there was only one woman. I grab that short goblin from the bed and throw her to the floor.

Her face, previously content in sleep, contorts with pain as she tries to turn her body to figure out what position she’s landed in.

Before she can properly come to her senses, I kick her once. She rolls across the floor and hits the wall hard, but no one else in the room shows any sign of waking up.

“Suzie, if you heard there was a thief in the house, you should have called your grandmother right away. She’s worried, you know? And you…”

I pick up a ring from the table, which was sitting among a few cheap pieces of jewelry, and hold it in front of her half-conscious eyes. Were even these fake jewels?

“And this ring. She’s so worried she even hired a detective.”

Uncharacteristically, I bring up parents to taunt her. No particular reason. It just seemed like this approach would work best.

“What, you want me to fucking go to that house and apologize? If that’s what she wanted when she hired a detective…”

This kid has a filthy mouth. I grab her by the neck and lift her up as she tries to put up a fight. Goblins are on the lighter side. I walk to the living room, which has a window facing the street.

She struggles, but not very effectively. When she tries to kick my face, I punch her legs, which reduces her resistance somewhat.

“I just need to retrieve the stolen goods, but since things have gone this way, it might be better if I take care of you too.”

I approach the windowsill. The goblin, finally realizing what I’m trying to do, desperately grabs the windowsill and tries to hold on.

“Ah, poor Suzie. Got mixed up with a bad crowd, started doing drugs, but had no money so you stole from the Italians. But, oh no, you got caught.”

I tell her an improvised scenario in a mocking voice. Perhaps I could have had talent in something other than detective work. Not that it matters.

“Then you needed money, so you robbed your grandmother’s house. You must have been tortured by guilt. Add that empty feeling after the high wears off, and jumping from here wouldn’t seem strange at all.”

It’s not so much that it wouldn’t be strange, but that the angels wouldn’t care. How many angels would bother with this one goblin that only an old landlady cares about?

If she disappears like this, the landlady won’t bother me anymore either. If I try some half-hearted rehabilitation and problems arise again, I’ll just be troubled.

“There, there must be another way! After threatening me like this, right? So if I don’t want to die… huh?”

“That’s true. But it would be easier for me to do this than to take you to those Italian guys and ask them to spare just you from the people who need to pay up. It’s not like this is an unusual occurrence in this city.”

A casual statement is more dangerous than a loud threat. We all know that barking dogs don’t bite.

“So, don’t worry about that! That ring is just a fake anyway, so you can keep it. If I can just dispose of the stolen goods, this job will end well…”

The strength seems to be draining from her hands as she desperately clings to the windowsill, and tears begin to well up in her eyes.

“Stolen goods? You’re going to sell off my client’s property and think that’s enough? Please, think about what you’re using to try to convince me.”

I tighten my grip on her neck and dangle her out the window once. Her hands that were gripping the windowsill shake violently, and only her heels remain on the ledge.

Now she starts to make some proper arguments.

“In the bedroom! Those guys in the bedroom! They must have some money saved up! We can use that to compensate, and, and you can take the stolen goods back!”

Even if they were a gang of four, if she stole their money and ran, she wouldn’t be able to return here.

If she ever set foot here again, she’d realize that it would have been more merciful if I had let go of her here. It would be a good rehabilitation. Fear easily transforms people.

Could this gang find my client? They could, but nothing would happen. If they were the type to kill people indiscriminately, they’d have been shot in the chest and head while robbing a grocery store.

Instead of letting go, I grab her by the neck and throw her back into the house. I put a cigarette in my mouth, gather mana at my fingertips to light it, and gesture with my chin.

“Get the money and get dressed. If we finish this cleanly… we’ll have time to go to Eden by evening.”

Everyone knew that Eden was a secret bar used by fallen angels and civil servants. Though no one could openly mention it.

I’m subtly letting her know that I have connections with the police. I follow the goblin into the room, keeping my gun aimed at the back of her head as she empties her gang’s wallets and retrieves money hidden under the floorboards.

This would have ended this way eventually, even without this incident. After she collects every penny, she hands me the box containing the stolen goods.

“Take me to the Italians.”

The goblin nods briefly. People feel most relieved when what they feared becomes their ally. And relieved people don’t betray easily.

We leave Fairgarden Apartments, and I make sure the goblin sees the security guard bowing to me. Let her misunderstand.

There was no conversation as we walked. The most significant sound we heard was the inhuman crying from a nominal addict rehabilitation center that had simply rounded up drug users and tied them to beds.

After passing through a completely slum-like neighborhood, things start to get a bit cleaner again. The mafia at least knew how to keep up appearances better than common thugs.

The goblin takes a deep breath and walks further into that street. We enter an Italian restaurant neatly decorated in green, red, and white.

Inside, the smell of hyena fur was stronger than the food. I wouldn’t want to dine here.

As we push through the door, a hyena head stops us. Fortunately, he seemed to recognize the goblin.

“What’s this, Suzie? Did you bring the money? Don’t think you can get away with it this time like you did last time.”

With potential killers both in front and behind her, the goblin speaks in an irritated voice.

“So what? You think I came with a detective to beg the boss? If I can’t get out of here, I’m the one who dies, not you. You know that, so why act like this?”

Only then does the hyena head look up at me. Male gnolls weren’t particularly tall. They smelled less than the females, though.

“A detective? You look more like a fixer than a detective. Anyway, leave any guns you have here before going in. If you insist on taking them in, that’s fine, but we’ll be watching.”

He points to other gnolls on the second floor of the two-story restaurant, who seem to be cackling as they look down at us.

What kind of gnolls were in this neighborhood? Was their boss named Luciano? He definitely preferred following rules, so he wouldn’t say it was fine. No clues there.

Still, first impressions matter everywhere. I scan the inside of the restaurant. Many of them had scars. Their attire was more like shabby shirts with suspenders that laborers might wear, rather than neat suits.

They didn’t seem to be large enough to be called a “family.” This must be a branch, and this branch seemed to like showing off their strength. If so, it’s better to play along.

I push the goblin’s back to make her move forward. The cackling of the hyenas openly drinking gets louder.

The gnoll who looked like the boss was in the innermost part. I approach without paying attention to my surroundings, making sure the goblin follows.

Female gnolls were usually about one and a half times the size of males. But this gnoll was about half the size of an average female gnoll.

With a boss like this, the organization looks like this too. She seemed more wild and beast-like than typical gnolls, giving the impression that a large hyena was sitting directly at the table rather than a gnoll.

Naturally, there was no one guarding or stopping people around her. What keeps this organization running is not rules but the boss’s charisma alone. This will make the conversation easier.

Seeing me approach, the boss gnoll raises one hand, waves it in the air once, pulls it down twice, and then makes a pushing gesture.

For gnolls, hands were organs of speech as much as mouths. Their sign language was systematic, and that was probably a meaningful gesture. I sit down at the table across from the large gnoll.

A small, skinny male gnoll brings a glass of deep red alcohol. He brings something that looks like a cow bone and grates it into the small glass. So this is what she ordered.

It seems like she’s testing me, but I wouldn’t refuse a drink. I pick up the glass and drain it, and only then does the female gnoll sitting across from me raise her head and start looking at me.

“I know why Suzie came to see me. She touched my goods, so she’s here to make amends. But what about you? You came in with Suzie and are acting confidently as if you’ve known us for a long time, following our preferred way of doing things. We might be used to the smell of rot, but we can also smell something suspicious.”

She immediately bares her teeth and growls. Her face looked like she might pounce at any moment, but she was still holding utensils with both hands. It’s just a threat.

“I’m someone hired by a client to retrieve the ring that woman stole. Since she’s the client’s granddaughter, I’m trying to take her back too, but for that to happen, we need to settle things here first.”

The gnoll’s eye corners twitch. She raises her hand, makes a fist, then opens it and rotates it, and puts away the empty plate. The plate is refilled with aged, almost rotten meat.

“Not bad instincts and courage. I like it. Male humans never disappoint me. So, what do you want to do? First, that girl should have brought money for this conversation to continue.”

After finishing speaking, the gnoll stuffs the meat into her mouth greedily. She devours it without caring about the meat juices wetting her mouth.

I snap my fingers a few times to call the goblin, who is still trembling and hasn’t made it to the table. She places the money collected from her gang’s pockets on the table.

“I don’t think you’d find a woman who costs this much just to talk to, even at the Amber Room.”

The Amber Room was a high-class brothel. It was so expensive that you’d have to spend all the fees from a demon’s request for a decent night there… it wasn’t my taste.

Expensive as they might be, prostitutes were still prostitutes, but at the Amber Room, none of them remembered that fact. The gnoll laughs at my joking remark.

“It’s probably lucky to meet a woman who’s worth the money, rather than those supposedly refined women at the Amber Room. Don’t you think?”

I smile back. Our sense of humor seemed somewhat similar. It should be smooth to move on to the main point now.

“Anyway, I’d like you to spare her if there’s anything else you want to do to her. The other guys in her gang… that’s not my business. Beat them up or fatten up the fish in Long Island Sound. It’s up to you.”

The female gnoll, who had been looking as if she had somewhat anticipated what I was going to say, makes a cackling sound like a laugh and then nods.

“I was going to send some guys to catch her tonight, but you beat me to it. Alright, you can take her. I’ve got my money properly, and you’ve persuaded me in a way I quite like, so how can I hold onto her? Ah, do you have a business card?”

I take out the one worn-out card left in my wallet and hand it to her. Even a tobacco shop owner in this neighborhood wouldn’t be bad for connections, and a gnoll leading a group like this would be helpful.

“Husband, Husband… You’re the one that kobold from the tobacco shop was talking about. Treat me to a meal next time as payment for that woman’s life you brought.”

This time, she raises her hand, draws a line downward with her index and middle fingers together as if drawing a lightning pattern, makes a fist, and then extends three fingers. A male gnoll who had been doing odd jobs brings a business card and hands it to me.

Proci Construction Services, CEO Giuseppina Proci. No, if read in English, it would be Josephine… Well, such a refined name didn’t suit that face.

Fortunately, she was a woman who communicated well if you behaved in the way she liked. I suppose I could have a meal with her sometime.

Yes, make as many friends as possible… and don’t worry about enemies. No one had ever come to my home and held a knife to my throat or pointed a gun at my head.

I take the client’s granddaughter, who had been frozen and unable to even curse due to the barbaric atmosphere the gnolls exuded, and leave. Thanks to this being a relatively clean street, I catch a waiting taxi.

We head home. It didn’t seem like we had been there that long… but it was already approaching 4 o’clock. This job didn’t need to take a whole day either.

A detective doesn’t wander around looking for answers. People generally already know the answers. But like a hastily buried corpse, they want someone else to dig up the answers they can’t unearth themselves.

As for me, I didn’t care much as long as I got paid well for digging them up. Having seen it so many times, it had become almost mundane.

The taxi leaves the mafia’s street and speeds out of the slum. Thanks to the driver, we didn’t have to smell the terrible stench of those dirty streets.

The client’s granddaughter just stared at the changing scenery. She looks at me as if I were her savior, when all I did was cut the chain around her neck to tie it somewhere else.

“So, thank you…”

I cut her off. I didn’t want to hear it.

“Shut up. I don’t want to receive thanks from someone who robbed her old lady’s house to do drugs and sleep with three men.”

The driver seems to glance at us for a moment before turning his head away as if he hadn’t seen anything.

It might seem like she’s been given a second chance, but it’s just a reprieve. When the drug wears off and the convulsions end, she might think tomorrow will come with a clear mind, but withdrawal symptoms strike at night.

Receiving thanks and such things wouldn’t be too late after I don’t hear that this woman robbed the landlady’s house again and ran away within a week.