Chapter 6: The Watchmaker

Beneath New York lies a hidden underground passageway unknown to the general public.

Like an intricate web spun by a spider, it's a vast and complex maze of tunnels.

These passageways are frequently used by underground organizations, including the one I belong to—The Unseelie Court—as well as others.

Who built it? When was it made?

I don’t know. And I’m not supposed to know.

Nor should I try to find out.

I walk through the darkness.

Outside, it’s… probably still evening.

But no sunlight reaches down here, and the only light comes from faintly glowing lamps spaced every few dozen meters.

In this pitch-black corridor with countless branching paths, I move forward, relying solely on memory.

Right now, I’m here in the role of “Redcap.”

Wearing my mask, suit, and protective gear.

Although, after the explosion in Hell’s Kitchen, the protector is half-destroyed, and the suit is scorched.

The mask itself still functions, but the surface is cracked.

…It reeked of sewage, but I desperately washed it by hand, so it’s somewhat better now.

Still, there’s a faint smell lingering.

From an outsider’s perspective, I must look like a wreck.

But despite my battered appearance, I press onward in my torn-up suit.

I turn, walk, turn again, climb, walk, descend, turn, and turn again.

And then—

“This is it.”

I climb a ladder made of metal, lift the manhole cover, and emerge into an alleyway.

I find an unmarked door and press the intercom beside it.

After a moment, the intercom light turns from green to red.

…No reply, but it means the line’s open.

“I brought that out-of-tune radio.”

I speak the code and wait.

Then comes the sound of the door unlocking.

It’s an old-looking metal door that seems untouched by modern technology, but in reality, it’s fitted with an automatic locking mechanism.

I twist the knob and step inside.

The room is cramped—really cramped.

I move aside a painting of a fairy hanging on the wall, revealing an elevator button hidden behind it.

When I press the downward arrow, the entire room begins descending.

Climbing up, only to go down again.

That’s what crosses my mind as I lean against the wall.

After a minute or two, I arrive.

Opening the door again, I step into a room packed with high-tech equipment.

Wrenches and laser cutters lie scattered across a desk.

Strange blueprints are projected midair in glowing holograms.

It’s like a workshop from the near future.

As I look around, I spot someone gazing directly at me.

Clad in black armor that looks like it could suck in all light, the figure emits pulses of purple energy from various joints.

The helmet, cut vertically like a medieval knight’s, also shines with that same purple light.

Yes—this is him.

“Tinkerer.”

“Nice to meet you… Well, first time meeting face-to-face, but I think we’ve spoken before. Maybe a few years back… about suit maintenance?”

Tinkerer.

Despite his appearance, he’s no combatant.

In fact, he doesn’t belong to any organization.

He’s a freelance technician.

“You sure talk a lot.”

“Is that a bad thing? Getting to know someone—trying to understand them—is the first step to being a functioning adult in society. You’re the client, and I’m the provider. Knowing you means I can provide you with technology that fits your needs. Don’t you agree?”

He really does talk a lot.

He’s also wearing a full-face helmet like mine, and his voice is modulated through a voice changer to sound mechanical.

There’s no telling whether he’s old, young, male, or female.

He’s taller than me, probably around 170 cm.

…Not that I’m particularly short.

I’m around 160 cm.

To be precise, I’m just barely 160 cm.

…I’m not short.

The platform soles built into my suit aren’t there because I’m insecure about my height.

They’re meant to help me intimidate opponents as someone with a smaller build…

Well, whatever. That’s not important.

Anyway, this technician in front of me, Tinkerer, is just as obsessively secretive as I am.

“That multi-function mask I gave you before—you’re still using it. I’m impressed. Though it’s clearly been through hell.”

“Then you already know, right? The organization’s request was sent in advance.”

“Of course I do. You guys are my top clients. I got the email weeks ago. Everything’s ready—flawlessly so.”

The directive from the organization was to repair my busted suit.

The repairs had been scheduled for some time, and I was told to wait for them to be arranged.

I didn’t expect to get the message today and have to show up immediately, though.

“So? Can you fix it?”

“To answer that directly—yes, I can fix it. No problem.”

A mix of relief and a touch of dread fills my chest.

While this suit was broken, I hadn’t taken on any missions.

Or rather—I couldn’t take any.

Instead, I got to enjoy a short break, a moment’s rest.

It feels like being a kid who didn’t realize summer vacation was ending until the day before—then suddenly being told by their parents.

“But you see, I don’t want to fix it.”

“…What did you say?”

Whether he knew what I was feeling or not, Tinkerer continued speaking in that irritatingly suggestive tone.

He was starting to seriously piss me off. I wanted to punch him right in the face. So damn annoying.

“…Oh, don’t get the wrong idea,” he said. “I’m just not interested in fixing that suit. I mean, I built it what, five years ago? I don’t remember the exact date, but let’s just say—it’s old.”

Tinkerer pointed directly at my suit.

“Technology evolves day by day. It becomes smarter, stronger, more elegant, more refined—and completely renewed. Your suit is old. Like a pair of jeans you’d find in some vintage store.”

“Then why d—”

“That’s when I had an idea.”

Tinkerer cut me off, clearly excited.

This guy really doesn’t listen when other people talk.

“I’ll build you a brand-new, state-of-the-art suit—something that fits the you of today. That’s the best way forward, don’t you think?”

He ran his fingers across his own arm, and a holographic keyboard sprang to life. With his other hand, he started typing something in, and a door opened with a mechanical hiss from the back of the room.

“Follow me.”

I trailed after Tinkerer.

And up ahead—I saw it. Hanging on the wall.

“What do you think?”

It was a hard-edged suit that looked like something straight out of a knight’s armory. No, I could honestly call it armor.

It wasn’t the kind of suit that just slapped on a few protectors over a stab-proof base. No, it was full-body black plating. The headpiece was still red, like before—but this time, it wasn’t just a chunk of raw metal.

The surface was coated with a material like translucent crimson glass, and beneath it, I could faintly see embedded electronics.

A suit that looked like a solid mass of metal.

It was like…

“…An Iron Man suit,” I muttered.

Crap—I clamped my mouth shut.

Mentioning another engineer’s name in front of a techhead is taboo. Especially ones with egos. They tend to flip out.

I stole a glance at Tinkerer.

“Oh? You noticed?” he grinned. “That’s right. This suit was inspired by Iron Man—by Tony Stark’s design.”

…Looks like he wasn’t offended.

I let out a quiet breath of relief and kept listening.

“This suit isn’t just for defense like the ones before. The alloy it’s made of is infused with vibranium. Vibranium absorbs and reflects kinetic energy.”

Tinkerer fiddled with the nearby console. A panel on the wall slid open, revealing a pure white room behind a sheet of glass.

At its center was a metal plate.

He tapped the console again—and a deafening blast echoed, even through the glass. Something had just fired.

But the metal plate in the center of the room was completely untouched.

“Armor-piercing round,” he explained. “Powerful enough to punch through a tank. But even with that kind of top-tier firepower, it couldn’t scratch the vibranium panel. Now, look down there.”

Tinkerer pointed—at the vibranium plate. And below it—

“It’s just wood. The fixture, I mean. Nothing special about it. Pretty strange, right? A fixture like that can withstand the shock of an armor-piercing round and not break. All the impact is absorbed by the vibranium. Impressive, huh?”

It was impressive, no doubt about it.

I couldn’t help but feel a bit awed.

And if a simple sheet of vibranium could stop an armor-piercing round, then…

This armor, shaped with curves to dissipate the shock, should be even more effective.

“Even if it took a Hulk smash, it wouldn’t break. Not from a missile blast, either. It wouldn’t even flinch if it fell from hundreds of meters. For more details, please refer to the manual.”

Tinkerer tossed a pile of papers onto the desk, which I caught and opened.

Why are there diagrams in here?

And in color, too.

He’s a perfectionist, isn’t he?

“The mask’s incredible, too. It’s got a special device that reads brainwaves. You can control the armor just by thinking about it.”

Tinkerer fiddled with the console again.

“It’s still manual for me, though. But see? The upper part of the leg—voila, it opened automatically. What’s sticking out is a knife handle, made of a special alloy. Very tough. It’s meant to be used as a projectile, which is why it’s not made of vibranium, but rather a carbon-based alloy.”

He paused for a moment before continuing.

“Vibranium is an incredibly rare metal. I bought it from a dark trader named Ulysses Klaue… It’s an extremely rare metal, and there’s hardly any left. It’s even used in Captain America’s shield. Pretty amazing, right? You should really thank me for this.”

“Oh, wow. That’s incredible,” I muttered, feeling my responses becoming more dismissive as Tinkerer rambled on.

He really talks a lot.

Now that I think about it, Ned’s chatter doesn’t seem so bad after all.

Tinkerer is over the top. He’s annoyingly talkative.

“A suit as incredible as this, and it’s about to be yours. Just a little longer.”

“A little longer? Is it incomplete?”

As soon as I asked, Tinkerer seemed to jump at the chance to answer.

“Now it’s just a matter of adjusting it to your physique. That’s why I had you come here today.”

Tinkerer spoke cheerfully.

…Wait, adjust to my physique?

So, he wants me to fit it?

Which means…

“Could you take off your current suit?”

Of course.

I touched the cracked mask…

“What’s wrong?”

The man standing before me, also wearing a mask—though whether he was a man or woman, I couldn’t quite tell—tilted his head in confusion.

“…Tinkerer, why do you want to know what’s under my mask? You could just gather the data from my body measurements. Knowing what I look like doesn’t benefit you in any way.”

“Hm. I suppose you’re right,” Tinkerer nodded thoughtfully.

But then…

“I still want to know. To put it simply, it’s intellectual curiosity. I want to know what your face looks like. No amount of money could make me learn it, and if I let this chance slip, I’ll never get to know, right?”

The voice, altered by the mask into an almost androgynous, mechanical tone, was grating on my nerves.

“If you won’t show me your face, I won’t make your suit. I won’t cooperate with the organization, either. But you’ll be in trouble, won’t you? Your superior might get angry…”

“Tch.”

I clicked my tongue and placed my hands on the mask.

“Let me make something clear, Tinkerer…”

“What is it?”

“My face… and identity — you are not to tell anyone. If you do… I will kill you.”

“Sure, I wasn’t planning on telling anyone anyway.”

Tinkerer responded with a chuckle and a carefree smile.

…Though I couldn’t help but worry if he truly understood the weight of those words.

Well, if it ever comes to that, the organization will handle it.

And when that time comes, it’ll likely be me who ends up killing him — as part of the job.

I reached behind my head and pressed the release switch at the nape of my neck.

With a faint hiss of air, the back of the mask opened, allowing me to remove it.

“…Satisfied, Tinkerer?”

My own voice — not the synthetic, androgynous tone of the mask — echoed through the room.

The semi-long hair stored beneath the mask fell onto my shoulders with a soft rustle.

I could feel my brow furrowing in irritation.

Tinkerer, on the other hand, simply stood there in silence, unmoving.

…Too unmoving.

No reaction at all.

“…Hey, Tinkerer?”

“…………”

…Is he actually a robot or something? Did he freeze up from a processing error?

That’s how still he was — like a machine stuck in a loop.

He’d been so insistent about seeing under the mask, and now that he had, he was giving me nothing. The lack of reaction was seriously starting to get on my nerves.

“Say something, Tinkerer.”

“…Huh? Ah—sorry. You just… surprised me.”

Tinkerer finally responded, though his voice lacked its usual cheer.

…What the hell?

“You’re disappointed? Tinkerer.”

“No, it’s not like that. I knew you were a woman.”

“You did? Then why do you look like someone kicked your dog?”

“It’s just… You reminded me of someone I used to know. That’s all. It caught me off guard.”

“Someone from your past?”

I had always assumed that Tinkerer, like me, was the type who kept his personal life locked away. We rarely spoke about ourselves — it was practically an unspoken rule.

But against expectations, he started to talk about his past.

“Yeah. Someone from when I was a kid… she’s gone now. Someone important to me… but—anyway, that’s not the kind of story I meant to tell.”

The conversation was interrupted like that, but somehow, I felt like I could finally recognize that Tinkerer was actually a flesh-and-blood human.

With the full-face mask on, not showing a single bit of skin, he didn’t look human at all. His eyes even glowed purple. Honestly, if someone told me he was a robot, I’d probably believe it.

“Yeah, I’m satisfied with how you look now. Thanks, you’ve satisfied my intellectual curiosity… but as for taking your measurements… looks like I’m not allowed to do it myself.”

“Why not?”

“Huh? Well, because I’m a guy.”

Ah, so he really was a man.

“I don’t particularly mind.”

“Touching the body of a young unmarried woman all over? Are you stupid or something?”

Now that he mentioned it, it made me even more confused about why I needed to take my mask off in the first place. He said from the beginning that he knew I was a woman, so what was he planning to do?

Faced with the eccentric behavior of the weirdo in front of me, I felt a headache coming on. Was there some purpose behind this, or was he just crazy?

“There’s a changing room over there. So, um, take this electronic measurer and run it over your body. Oh, of course, you’ll need to be completely naked… I’ll try not to look at the data as much as possible.”

Tilting my head at Tinkerer’s sudden and excessive consideration, I accepted the device he was holding out to me.

It was a machine shaped like a ring. Apparently, when you run it over your body, it performs a 3D scan of whatever is inside the ring.

With the ring in one hand, I stepped into the changing room partitioned off by a divider.