The lawyer's heart pounded like a motorcycle engine, and every physiological sign on his body indicated that he was fully prepared for a fight.
But his target appeared completely nonchalant, not only opening a beer bottle at a leisurely pace but also deliberately bringing out two glass beer mugs, trying to show the lawyer his beer-pouring technique. Solomon refused to waste even a drop of abbey beer—look at that deep mahogany color, like redwood; smell the rich aroma of bread, mixed with notes of apple, plum, fig, and raisin. The distinct yeast fragrance, the sweetness of honey, and the subtle hint of oak all blended perfectly.
This was the best beer in the world, a substitute created by Nordic monks when, due to climate and public health concerns, they couldn't grow grapes and needed an alternative to experience the "body and blood" of Jesus. Solomon warmly invited Matthew Murdock to taste it.
After downing the entire glass in one go, Solomon set the mug down with satisfaction.
"I have no hostility toward you. I have no hostility toward anyone," Solomon said, looking at the still-tense Matthew Murdock and the untouched beer in front of him. "The only one I'm hostile toward is that thing from beyond our world."
Matthew Murdock remained silent.
Last night, a small cargo ship arrived at a private dock in Clinton, New York. It carried a single blue shipping container. To receive this cargo, key figures from the Japanese mafia showed up in full, armed with MP7 submachine guns equipped with suppressors. This method of using containers was common in human trafficking, a practice that had nearly vanished after recent crackdowns by unknown forces. But gangs, like weeds, grew wildly, and so did their operations. This time, however, the Japanese mob wasn't armed to fend off rival gangs but because of their concern over what was inside the container.
The cargo was a boy, chained at the neck and wrists.
It was also last night that Matthew Murdock had a fierce argument with his mentor. Stick had wanted to kill the boy outright, but Murdock had blocked his arrow. For that, Stick had scolded him for being naive and immature. Murdock quieted his mind and carefully recalled what he'd heard that night.
Twelve heartbeats—no, thirteen. He was sure he hadn't missed any.
"Where were you hiding?" he asked. "I'm sure you weren't there last night. I would've remembered your heartbeat."
"I wasn't there, but my little sprite was," Solomon replied. "For entities from extra-dimensional planes that invade the material realm, Kamar-Taj always pays attention. Whatever that boy is carrying is one of them. I know what you want to ask. You want to know why I didn't go grab the boy myself. The truth is—I can't."
"Why not?" the lawyer asked. "You have powers. Taking on a few gangsters shouldn't be hard for you."
"There are some professional things I can't explain to you, and I believe you understand why I act this way. After all, you don't go out of your way to explain every loophole in the law to your clients," the arcanist said. "All I can tell you is, what's on that boy is the tendril of an extra-dimensional entity, and the location of its main body is currently unclear. I can use divination to get a rough idea, but to pinpoint it precisely would require a cost—an irreversible one. And I want to save that cost. No, not money—it's not that simple."
"You want me to help you find it?" the lawyer asked. "Then you need to tell me—why is that boy so important? What exactly are the 'Dark Void' and the 'Shadow Realm'?"
"Have you ever met a client who insists on understanding all the legal clauses and tries to defend themselves just to save on lawyer fees?"
"I have. But I don't think I'm that bad."
"The truth is, you're no different from those clients." Solomon shook his head. "Shadow creatures aren't afraid of mundane weapons without magic. For ordinary people, bullets do nothing to them. It's like those clients who try to use outdated legal codes—trying to sue a liquor store owner using laws from Prohibition."
"You keep explaining this in terms I can understand. Why?"
"Because it's already chosen you, Matt." Solomon smiled. "Its fate is entangled with yours. As long as you keep investigating The Hand, the Dark Void will come for you. It's only a matter of time before it shows up."
"And then?" the lawyer asked grimly. "Who do you want to kill?"
"Only the Dark Void," Solomon said. "I give you my word—the innocent boy isn't that important. If you help me find where the Dark Void is hiding, he'll be freed. I'll give him the kind of education and life only the rich can afford. He won't have to survive by wandering the streets. How does that sound?"
"Deal." The lawyer nodded in agreement.
It was an offer too generous to refuse. For someone capable of bringing him here through such forceful means, Solomon's kindness to an undocumented immigrant child born in a church was far beyond ordinary. But Matt Murdock remained cautious. He wanted to thoroughly investigate this man's background. Solomon's humility was unsettling.
"Let's talk off-topic," the lawyer said, seemingly relaxed. He removed his sunglasses, revealing his blank, unseeing eyes. "You're rich—how did you manage that? Got any tax issues that need resolving? Who are you really—I mean…"
"How did I go from orphan to rich kid to magician?"
"Yes." Matthew Murdock smiled sheepishly. "If that's not too offensive…"
"Ah, it's not that big a deal. You should know—other planets have plenty of diamonds and gold, and I don't think the IRS has jurisdiction in outer space. Even without that, the connections from Eton and Oxford are more than enough for a good life—if I wanted, I could be quite the socialite. As for how I started down the path of arcane magic, I'm sorry—I can't answer that. Too many secrets involved. The name I gave you is all you're allowed to know. Just understand this: since the dawn of humanity, Kamar-Taj has been guarding mankind—it just didn't always go by that name."
The arcanist pushed the glass forward, though the blind lawyer couldn't see his smile. "Now, before you leave, have a taste of the Westvleteren 12. Dana will prepare a suit tailored just for you—custom-made by Scabal of the UK, using Super 250 wool. In the long run, this fabric makes an exceptionally comfortable suit."
Seeing the lawyer raise a hand in refusal, Solomon quickly added,
"The suit began production the moment you stepped in here. Don't wonder how I know your measurements—I have your medical records. In this internet age, many secrets are no longer secret. Just wait a little. Enjoy the beer. Your suit will be ready soon. Please don't refuse—consider it a gift marking our deal. After all, I can't let you walk out of here wearing that. A suit is a man's armor. A lawyer needs a good suit to strike fear into the hearts of crooked businessmen and their attorneys. Don't you agree?"
------------------
Enjoying the story? Support the author and get early access to chapters by joining my Patre@n!
Find me at: patre@n*com/Mutter
You can read each novel for $5 or get them all for just $15.
Fairy Tail: Igneel's Eldest Son (Chapter 256)
I Am Thalos, Odin's Older Brother (Chapter 336)
Reborn in America's Anti-Terror Unit (Chapter 542)
Solomon in Marvel (Chapter 924)
Becoming the Wealthiest Tycoon on the Planet (Chapter 1284)
Surgical Fruit in the American Comics Universe (Chapter 1289)
American Detective: From TV Rookie to Seasoned Cop (Chapter 1316)
American TV Writer (Chapter 1402)
I Am Hades, The Supreme GOD of the Underworld! (Chapter 570)
Reborn as Humanity's Emperor Across the Multiverse (Chapter 660)
[+50 Power Stones = +1 Extra Chapter]
[+5 Reviews = +1 Extra Chapter]