Chaos at Roswell Inn
Siola's teleportation magic was convenient, but it couldn't take them just anywhere. To perform the spell, she needed to have visited the location at least once before. And even if she had, places protected by magical barriers were off-limits. In fact, Siola had once infiltrated the imperial castle to steal the hero summoning ritual, but she couldn't teleport back there. The best she could do was spy on the heroes through a familiar she'd hidden during that mission.
The empire was always on high alert against monsters. Key locations like the capital were shielded by barriers encompassing entire cities. Yet Roswell Village, the westernmost outpost in imperial territory and the closest to the Demon King's stronghold, had no such magical defenses whatsoever. It might seem odd at first, but there were good reasons for it.
For one, the Demon King's forces had weakened dramatically over centuries. Monsters were rarely seen outside the labyrinth and Demon King's Castle. Even lifelong villagers could count sightings on one hand. With no attacks in hundreds of years, vigilance had naturally slackened. And no ambitious mage in the empire would waste time maintaining barriers in some rural backwater.
Another factor was the constant swarm of adventurers drawn to the labyrinth's promise of quick riches. They infested Roswell Village day and night. Any stray monster wandering nearby would be pulverized before it even reached the gates.
"We're here."
Minwoo and Siola materialized via teleportation beneath crumbling walls, next to a dried-up little well. It was a secluded spot where hardly anyone passed, but still firmly inside the village. Roswell had guards at the entrance, of course. No need to stir up trouble marching right through the front gate.
Siola said, "I can't move around openly in a human village, so you're on your own from here. Call if you need anything."
"What? Wait—"
Before Minwoo could finish, Siola transformed into a swarm of dozens of bats and vanished.
"...Call how?"
Minwoo muttered in exasperation, then noticed one bat lingering nearby, watching him. He chuckled and clicked his tongue.
...
Roswell Village, the settlement closest to the Demon King's Castle, had a surprisingly pastoral vibe despite its infamous reputation. Annie, a girl working at one of its inns, had recently experienced something strange.
She'd gone to bed after an ordinary day, only to wake up in an unfamiliar place. It wasn't too alien—a kitchen much like the one at her inn. But the two people there with her were total strangers: a stunningly beautiful girl who could turn heads anywhere, and a black-haired man in odd clothes.
Annie had no inkling she'd been brought there as "prey." If Minwoo had been a vampire like Siola, she'd have been dead before her suppressed mind could recover. Luckily, he didn't have a taste for fresh blood. She lived.
At Minwoo's request, she taught him a few recipes she knew, then returned home unharmed. Waking the next morning, she tilted her head, dismissed it as a weird dream, and headed to work as usual. By the time she was fending off the innkeeper and guests' teasing, the dream was forgotten.
...
"Hey! More booze! Hurry up!"
The sun was still high, but a rowdy group of adventurers was already chugging and causing a scene.
"Lemme tell ya, this here's Dirk—the vet of vets! Been delving the labyrinth since before my balls even dropped. Warrior of warriors!"
"Pfft! Nobody asked!"
"If you delved that much, what're you doing camped out here?"
"The hell's that supposed to mean!?"
Dirk, the apparent leader, waved his empty mug wildly as he bellowed. His buddies egged him on, turning the place into a zoo. A few quiet diners ate their lunch in the inn's first-floor pub, but no one dared tell the Dirk crew to pipe down.
"Why's the booze so damn slow!? You trying to go outta business!?"
Dirk slammed the table like he meant to shatter it. A girl approached with a tray overflowing with beer mugs—the same Annie who'd taught Minwoo recipes days ago.
"Y-your beer..."
"You're late! Move it!"
"S-sorry...!"
Annie set the mugs down one by one, pale with fear. Dirk, sitting beside her, leered suddenly.
"Eek!?"
His rough hand groped her ass. She jolted, spilling a mug.
"Damn it! My clothes are soaked! This shirt ain't cheap. What're you gonna do about it!?"
"S-sorry... Sorry!"
Instead of calling out the assault, Annie just bowed repeatedly, ashen-faced. Dirk puffed up even more.
"Sorry don't cut it! You know how much this costs? You'd slave here your whole life and barely afford it. Got that?"
"Sorry... Sorry..."
"Quit apologizing! You broke it, you pay!"
Things were escalating. Annie glanced desperately at the innkeeper in the kitchen, teary-eyed, but he'd already looked away. She wasn't his daughter—just an orphan he'd picked up to save from starvation.
"Sorry... I don't have that kind of money..."
"No cash? Then pay with your body."
"...!"
Annie blanched at Dirk licking his lips.
"Y'know, you're kinda cute up close. Tits look ripe too..."
"Hiiik..."
Dirk grinned sleazily, shoving his face toward her chest, sniffing like a dog. Goosebumps exploded across her skin. His crew didn't intervene—just laughed and jeered: "He's at it again," "Save some for me!"
Puberty had recently hit Annie, drawing occasional gropes from adventurers. Timid and conflict-averse, she'd always laughed it off awkwardly. No one had gone this far before... but it had to happen eventually.
Something snapped inside her. Resignation. She let go.
That was when it happened.
"Jeez, so damn loud I can't even eat."
The rowdy pub froze like it'd been doused in ice water. The voice was a woman's—slightly androgynous, sturdy rather than feminine. A deep hood hid her face.
"Who the hell's this bitch talking to—"
"Some piglet's been squealing nonstop. Makes it hard to concentrate. Didn't order pork, though. Pig farm nearby or what?"
"You little—!"
Dirk shot up and stomped toward her table. She didn't flinch.
"Huh, the pig's walking on two legs?"
"Grr...!"
Even as the hulking brute closed in, she kept poking.
"You ready to pay for running your mouth? Begging won't help now."
Dirk loomed over her relaxed form, snarling. She stayed chill.
"Beg a pig? Not my custom."
"That's it, you—!"
Dirk swung a meaty fist at her head—but it hit empty air, snagging only her hood.
"Gasp!?"
"Over here."
She balanced impossibly atop his head, toes planted right on his scalp.
The onlookers gawked not at her poise, but something else.
"B-beastkin!?"
"Cat tribe!"
Pointed cat ears poked from her hair. A long black tail swished from her hips. Glossy black matched her hair against her healthy pale skin.
"Cat tribe...? A filthy beastkin dares—!"
Dirk, unable to see her, flailed blindly. He missed again.
Now she dangled upside-down from his right arm, acrobatic as a circus act.
"No need for an arm that gropes innocent girls, right?"
"What the—"
Crack.
Dirk's words cut off.
"Gaaaaahhh!!"
A gruesome pop of dislocating joints echoed through the pub, followed by the man's agonized scream.