Chapter 24
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 24
Chapter Title: Caravan Guard
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Rustle, rustle. The adventurer was rummaging around as if he had no idea I was watching. He was stripping off the bandit leader's breastplate. The corpse had a caved-in face from death, but this guy had some guts—he greedily peeled off the smooth breastplate without a hitch.
"Hey, what the hell are you doing?"
I couldn't help but ask at the ridiculous sight. Maybe he'd peel it off and hand it to me. Like, "Whoa! Thanks to you, we won the fight! Here, I took it off so you wouldn't have to bother." Then suggest grabbing a drink now that it's over.
Even adventurers who are total assholes have some basic decency, right? What you kill is yours. That's common sense.
There was a high chance I'd misunderstood with my twisted mind. In worldly affairs, you check the cause and effect before fighting.
"Huh? Taking off the armor. Why?"
"What're you gonna do with the armor?"
"Sell it, obviously. You want it? Fuck off."
But my expectations missed the mark spectacularly.
I seriously considered pulling out the sword I'd sheathed and slicing his throat. I couldn't fathom what bullshit this fucker was spouting. This was it—Steal. The most basic skill thieves use.
In other words, he was trying to steal my stuff.
Right in front of the owner, no less.
"No, cut the crap. That's mine."
"What kinda nonsense is this, you retarded fuck?"
"Nonsense is the sound your mom makes getting plowed by an orc."
"Wh-what?! You, you fucker, what did you just say? What about my mother?!"
The idiot started cursing out of nowhere, so I reflexively hit him with a mom joke.
Pissed off, he jumped up from stripping the armor. Unlike Koreans used to mom disses, isekai folks had zero tolerance. Even something like "your mom's a retarded whore"—which does zero damage to modern Koreans—sent them into maximum rage mode.
His face turned beet red in seconds. A real-life red human.
Looking him over, he was shorter than me. My quilted armor was better gear, and he'd left his sword on the ground while looting. If we fought now, I could win just by drawing my blade. What the fuck gave this asshole the balls to stand up?
"Your mom's orc pussy. Anyway, that guy whose armor you're stripping? I killed him."
"So what if you did? It's a corpse—finder's keepers, right? And if you insult my mother one more time, I'll kill you."
What did he think he'd say if I killed him, looted his corpse, and took everything? No, didn't they teach you at Adventurer's Guild registration that you only take what you kill?
"Your mom's retarded whore."
Curious, I drew my sword. Ignoring his warning and hitting him with another mom joke was just a bonus.
I don't compromise with anyone I can beat.
You need Winia's level—someone who could one-shot me—to force bullshit on me. No way I forgive some average fucker acting tough. Unacceptable. Adventurers live on face, so cross the line and you're dead.
"Your mom's retarded, her pussy's gaping like a wrecked asshole, spewing bullshit from that thieving mouth, you fucking dog. What? Gonna kill me?"
"Uh... uh..."
He faltered when I drew. He fumbled for his sword at his waist, but idiot, it's rolling on the ground. Realizing it was gone, his face drained pale.
Red to blue—like a fucking Taegeukgi flag.
"Fuck off, you retarded fuck. Go while I'm letting you live."
I shoved my sword at him. No decent armor meant a stab would be fatal. In fights, gear and size matter. I dominated both.
That's why I could do this.
Truth be told... I'd kill him anywhere else.
But working as a caravan guard, I couldn't cause a scene.
"Tch... Fuck my luck!"
At least he read the room. He spat on the ground like he was full of bravado and turned away. Logically, he should've apologized first, but no—my temper snapped completely.
"Where you going?"
"Huh?"
"Hand over everything you got before you go."
"What the fuck..."
He tried stealing my shit and didn't apologize—time for mental damages. I pressed my sword closer, demanding compensation.
"You tried stealing my stuff. Didn't your mom teach you about compensation? Gotta pay for the harm."
"...Hmph!"
He hesitated, then got cocky. Bigger balls than I thought. Why steal with that guts? Might've gone far without it.
"Stab me then, retard."
"Fine? Die then. I'll take compensation and labor fees from your corpse, you fucking dog!!!"
I lunged.
"W-wait! Fine, take it!"
"Should've done that from the start."
I stopped.
Crying half like a bitch, he rummaged and tossed me a leather pouch. I snatched it, backed five steps, and checked: full of copper coins. About 1 silver, give or take.
Spare wallet? Adventurers carry multiples for security—common sense. Could squeeze more, but the windfall cheered me up. No more pressing.
Yeah, whatever. Anyone can eye others' stuff! It's fine! Forgiven!
1 silver forgives even blood feuds for adventurers.
"What's your name?"
"...James."
"Fucking common name. Your mom must've been too lazy to name you. Makes sense, meeting your dad in a whorehouse. Anyway, get lost. Say hi to mom."
"..."
James slunk off, pissed. Now, time to loot that breastplate? Heart pounding already. All this would be mine. Armor, gear, cash—everything.
Tigers leave hides, people leave possessions.
I'd use it all well.
"H-hey, caravan master! This guy's robbing me! As my employer, shouldn't you do something?!"
Then James snitched to the green-hatted middle-aged guy—the caravan master—changing his tone. Fine, decided: kill James, take his everything.
"...Looks to me like you tried robbing first."
"Huh?"
"Cause trouble, contract's void."
"..."
But plot twist. James fled to the other side of the wagons, fuming. Looked like he'd plot revenge—kill him next chance.
Anyway, the caravan master chased off James and called me over.
"More importantly, thanks to you, we repelled the bandits. Taking out their leader in a flash—impressive skill."
"Nah, no big deal."
Not my skill; he was careless. People die easy to rocks. If alert, he wouldn't have died so pathetically.
"Seems you've got guts too. How about it? When we reach the city, wanna guard for our caravan? My recommendation letter gets you hired on the spot."
"Sadly, caravan runs are done for me."
"Too bad."
Training like caravan soldiers appealed a bit, but not as a job. Daily bullshit like this? I'd turn into a murder-obsessed psycho with no hobbies.
Can't handle that future me.
Plus, constant fights as guard? Higher death rate than adventuring.
Caravan master left; I finally looted the leader. Pure farming. First, breastplate. Felt heavy iron—mood lifted. Doffed my cloak, donned it. Fit like it was made for me.
"Ohhh, fuck! Fucking hell!!! Mommmmy!!!"
Explosive joy burst out...!
Perfect chest and upper-back protection, no movement issues. Blocking surprise attacks? Pure bliss welled up.
Savoring satisfaction, I searched the corpse more.
Stripped clothes—too filthy to keep. Revealed two wallets. Trembling hands checked sums, pocketed them. 3 silvers—heavy! His full fortune. Thrilled, but hated how poor the "leader" was.
"...3 silvers!"
Bandits carry all wealth on them like adventurers—body's safest.
All his crew like him; why hide cash at camp?
Your own hands best. Lucky me—he hoarded, so I got it all.
"Fuck this world!"
Luxuriously, he wore a necklace! Yanked it, looped on my neck, hid in shirt. Heart exploding! Killing people beats monsters by dozens in profit! No wonder assholes turn bandit!
Thrilled, grabbed everything worthwhile.
Sword, boots, armor, cash. Unreal drop fest—nearly fainted. Gear upgraded instantly. Tied boots' straps to belt—sell for 20 coppers in town. Sword to waist—good smith sale.
Damn, side income: 4 silvers cash, gear, necklace. Glad I volunteered for caravan guard first time. Never again, though.
Especially loved this new breastplate. Needs dozens of silvers normally. Free windfall—had to scream.
Sell at smith? Nah, keeping for future. Name it...? Hmm.
"Oh, right."
Forgot the other kill. Scanning, that psycho adventurer waved cheerfully. Had manners—waited to split loot.
"Friend, split the loot halfsies!"
Grinning brightly. His energy made me smile too.
"Sure!"
"Cash half-half first, gear?"
"Hmm, yeah..."
Bad luck: our 2v1 mohawk buddy's bandit was broke. Split 15 coppers each; pondered his sole remaining sword.
"Tricky to split."
"Smith might give 30 coppers."
Probably more.
I proposed:
"Give me your 15 coppers, sword's yours. Awkward split otherwise—deal?"
"For real? Sweet!"
Small loss, but no more baggage.
Loot split, matter settled.
No surviving bandits; two adventurers died from blood loss/shock. Back to night watch. But with this haul, tolerable. First huge sum in isekai life.
Journey ahead looks fun.
Wonder what Isvant city's like—really excited.
Made bank... time for a nice restaurant, grease the belly.