Chapter 402: Apparently Treasure Hunting Required a Bath

The following afternoon, the bathhouse lady asked whether I wanted the large soaking room for practical reasons or because I was being optimistic, and Lukas answered before I could protect myself.

"He needs room to spread out," he said, studying the price board with an expression that deserved immediate violence.

I considered drowning him in the shallow end, but the woman had already taken our money and probably charged for cleanup.

"I have wings, a recovering injury, and a friend who needs a supervised waiting area."

"Then you’ll want the wide pool with the shallow shelf," she said. "Your friend can embarrass himself there at no additional charge."

[System: Outstanding service, mate. Most establishments charge extra when the spider starts explaining your dimensions.]

Admission cost eighty credits, and a waterproof lamp cost another hundred twenty. Our travel account fell to four thousand two hundred thirty, which felt steep for a bath where I had to bring my own idiot.

I clipped the lamp to a borrowed changing belt and checked my money pouch. Lukas suggested washing behind my wings, so I suggested checking whether spiders floated upside down.

The building’s upper rooms were dry, with broad pools overlooking the flooded resort below. We changed behind separate screens and followed the marked public path into the wide room.

The shallow shelf supported my sore wing beautifully. Lukas sank into the warm water with a groan, and I nearly postponed the robbery out of respect for whoever had designed the jets.

Then I remembered Gullet threatening to peel me, and decided he could pay for our next visit.

The route diagram we’d found showed a service stair beneath the western wall. The public pool’s emergency plan confirmed the stair’s location and marked a lower maintenance gallery beyond it.

I compared the stair on both drawings, then watched the service door. Someone had crossed out the warning about slippery tiles and written something about broken teeth, which seemed worth keeping in mind.

[System: Rob him after your soak, mate. Nothing worse than getting blood in the bath before you’ve enjoyed the bubbles.]

Can we claim the bath as an expense if I do my planning in it? Give me another hour and I can make this the most carefully considered robbery of my entire career, provided nobody makes me get out before the money arrives.

A pair of adult women entered the far end of the pool, glanced at my wings, and began discussing whether I was a performer hired for the evening. One asked Lukas if I did private appearances.

He said I was mostly available for bad decisions and lunch.

"He handles bookings because nobody has ever asked to see him privately." The women laughed, and Lukas pointed out that I was wearing a rented belt with no pants, which made defending my dignity difficult.

I messaged Lyra that the water was helping my wing. She told me to leave the knives alone for an hour, so I sent back that I missed her. Her reply said being sweet did not cancel the knife rule, and I smiled down at the water like an idiot.

Lukas borrowed the displayed maintenance plan from the bathhouse lady under the perfectly true explanation that we wanted to understand the old lower passages before hiring a dive guide.

She marked the sealed guest levels and the open service gallery. The abandoned rooms beyond belonged to somebody else. Apparently their storage tenants argued about rent through locked doors, which sounded exactly like the sort of business Gullet deserved.

She also told us to speak to a licensed salvage diver before going deeper than the service level. Her preferred contact worked evenings at a nearby adult venue and apparently gave clearer instructions than the harbor’s enthusiastic amateurs.

We took the advice for later. Tonight’s collection chamber sat above the deep route, reached through the shallow gallery on the diagram.

A worker opened the service door while we watched, dragging out a broken laundry cart. Beyond him, I could see the first landing and the tide gauge fixed to its wall.

The level was low enough to leave the upper gallery dry. According to the collection schedule, the courier would arrive before the evening rise, giving us a narrow period in which to act without swimming blind through an unfamiliar basement.

[System: Objective available, mate. Secure the captain’s three payment boxes before his collector takes them, then get both of you and the haul clear. Thirty thousand EXP and fifty IP, fighting included. Flooding the public bath doesn’t count as a successful exit.]

If someone flooded the bath by accident, would you deduct the reward before or after checking whether the customers enjoyed it?

[System: Listen to yourself, you slippery insurance claim. I offered you money and your first question was whether drowning came with customer feedback.]

We left the pool before the worker returned, dressed, and checked the service route from the street side. The lower loading hatch opened onto a narrow canal where small maintenance craft could moor.

Lukas measured the canal opening while I assured him the skiff would fit. He asked whether that was engineering or enthusiasm, and I told him measuring twice showed a disappointing lack of faith.

Wet Regret squeezed in with room to spare. I waited for an apology while Lukas tested the pump, checked our empty hold, and ignored me with the dedication of a paid professional.

I watched through the gallery grating while he secured our release line. Upstairs, somebody laughed loud enough to carry down the stairwell, and I found myself resenting everyone still enjoying my bath.

Then two men entered the chamber below, carrying the payment boxes between them.

One set a short gun on the table while the other tested the valve on a metal cylinder beside the door. Its pressure gauge climbed sharply, and both men stepped away before the needle settled.

The map had told us where the money was, but somebody had decided the entrance should bite.