Even Worms Squirm When Stepped On
Honestly, even in her previous life she had never been the sort to play the meek and obedient. Acting docile only ever invited contempt—the kind that said you could be treated however anyone pleased.
“I’ve mellowed quite a bit. What was the position of queen, anyway…? To think that after only two years of wearing the crown I’ve become someone so practiced in patience.”
“Aaaargh! What the hell is this crazy bitch saying!”
The man screamed at the pain lancing through his arm and glared at Odeliana. The moment he met not the eyes of a small, fragile girl but a venomous, snake-like stare brimming with poison, he faltered. Unconsciously averting his gaze, he stared at the crude dagger buried in his own limb.
His pride crumpled at the realization that he had been struck by a cheap knife that could barely serve as a weapon—and by a frail woman who looked as if she could hardly move on her own. In a fit of rage he yanked the dagger free.
“You insolent little whore!”
It was not a life-threatening wound, so the man immediately raised his hand to strike Odeliana. Yet in that instant his massive frame staggered.
What? The word slipped from his lips before he could stop it, and only then did he sense that something was terribly wrong.
The stabbed area had gone rigid. The sharp pain blossomed into a ferocious burning heat as though his flesh were on fire, and a scorching fever raced upward through his veins from the wound.
“…Ugh, wh-what the…”
“Did you truly come to a place like this with no precautions at all?”
His sturdy legs finally failed to hold his swaying body and gave way.
The man collapsed to his knees. His breathing had already turned into a strange, metallic rasp.
“Do you think I’ve only dealt with trash like you once or twice?”
Though the body was frail, what dwelled inside it was the soul of a battle-hardened woman who had fought for survival for decades.
Countless experiences, gained from struggling solely to remain alive, had seeped into her very spirit. If the flesh had limits, one simply needed to find something to supplement those limits and overcome them.
There was no chance a mere slum thug who did nothing but bully the weak could surpass the instincts of someone who had once strode across battlefields.
“To the likes of you, a ‘frail woman’ is nothing but an easy target to trample.”
“…”
“Even when my limbs were perfectly sound I was treated that way. How much worse must it be now?”
“…”
“Yet every single time, the enemy’s carelessness kept me alive. Who could have imagined it? That a hulking man like you might be killed by a lame cripple who can barely stand.”
A dagger was the ideal weapon for a powerless woman, and poison was the perfect aid for a body that could not kill with a single blow.
She had coated the blade’s tip with the “extreme poison” purchased at the market—enough to subdue an opponent with the smallest cut, easy to draw and use at any moment.
Odeliana’s current body certainly imposed many restrictions on daily life, but in the art of lowering an enemy’s guard it was superior to the one Lerusha had once possessed.
“Today might have seemed no different from any other for you, but luck was not on your side. Even worms squirm when stepped on. In this world there are people who will not simply endure the violence you wield.”
“…”
“Consider it self-defense and do not resent me too deeply. In the end, this death is one you brought upon yourself.”
She had swung the blade only to survive. He had swung his without ever imagining he might die—and the result had simply been death.
Besides, she had unexpectedly gained a good opportunity; she could not allow a third party to ruin it. Once Mathias learned that an enormous bounty had been placed on Odeliana’s body, he would not refuse to follow her.
I’ll take Mathias with me, thank him as my benefactor, then ask Blair to let us return to the mansion together. Since he saved her brother’s life, Blair won’t object to taking Mathias in. After that I can make him my squire and keep him close.
If wanted posters had been scattered across all of Anatolia, the one who should claim the massive reward for delivering her was not this idiot but Mathias.
“S-spare… me.”
The man flopped like a fish dragged onto land, emitting grotesque sounds, until his movements finally ceased. He met a truly hollow death.
Odeliana exhaled roughly, brushed the dirt from her clothes, and wiped the sticky blood from her face.
Dizziness assailed her. Having accomplished its purpose, her body was in tatters; she lacked even the strength to lift a single finger.
Both hands that had driven the dagger with all their might now throbbed in every joint as if sprained, and the wounds from rolling across the ground stung with dull, stubborn pain.
Ha, damn it.
The moment she spat out the clot of blood that had risen in her throat—
“Aaaargh!”
A piercing scream tore through the air from nearby. Odeliana turned her head toward the sound.
“Brother!”
They were familiar children. On closer inspection they were the same pack of boys who had surrounded and beaten Mathias mercilessly the night before. They encircled the dead man’s corpse, spitting curses thick with malice and howling in grief.
Odeliana tried to slip away in the chaos. But her already compromised body, now freshly wounded, refused to obey. And unfortunately the boys did not mourn their lost leader for long.
Eyes burning with vengeful poison turned in a single direction.
“This brainless bitch—how dare she, how dare she do this to our brother… Aaaaaargh! I’ll kill you!”
The largest boy in the group shouted, face twisted with fury. He dragged the heavy sword that had been pinned beneath the corpse and gripped it tight. Then he charged straight at Odeliana.
The instant the enormous blade—large enough to match the stature of a grown man—swept down to cleave her in two, something flew in and intercepted the heavy strike.
Odeliana’s eyes widened. A broad back filled her vision, and hair as black as if spun from the night sky fluttered. The boy had approached without the slightest sound; his steadfast rear figure seized her gaze. He had snatched up the crude dagger abandoned on the ground and used it to block the giant sword.
He lightly parried the blow, then closed the distance in the blink of an eye. The dagger plunged without hesitation into the boy’s carotid artery and was ripped free just as quickly. The struck boy could not even scream; blood sprayed as he crumpled like a broken doll. A fountain of crimson gushed upward. Covered head to toe in sticky blood, Mathias looked down at the fallen boy.
Is the him of this life truly different from the him of my previous life…?
No. That was clearly a hasty judgment.
If nothing else, the beast hidden inside a human’s fear had not changed.
He slowly turned around. Wiping the blood from his face, he answered in a voice that was almost kind.
“I should have killed them all in advance after all.”
Standing amid the blood-red hell, the boy’s posture remained perfectly neat. One might almost believe a person could still look as noble as a priest even when drenched in blood.
“I will handle the cleanup.”
For some reason she felt slightly shaken. The boy before her was unmistakably the cold, ruthless Mathias she had always known—yet after spending only half a day with the warm, friendly version of him, the current Mathias somehow felt strangely unfamiliar.
Mathias slowly turned his head. His gaze settled on one spot.
“Will you continue?”
The calm stare fixed on the cowering, terrified boys made them tremble as though they had been threatened. Even at a glance it was clear they had lost all will to fight in the face of overwhelming superiority. Yet they neither retreated nor stepped forward.
When no answer came, Mathias did something appalling. He gently pressed his foot onto the head of the gang’s dead leader. It looked like nothing more than lightly resting his sole there, but the already cold corpse’s face could not withstand the pressure and crumpled hideously.
The watching boys’ faces drained of all color. Only then did they scramble to flee in every direction.
The moment the situation ended and the tension broke, strength fled her body. Having reached its limit, it collapsed without resistance. In that instant a hand shot out, wrapped around her waist, and effortlessly supported her.
The faint scent unique to Mathias—dew-laden grass and damp earth—mingled with the metallic tang of blood and brushed against her nose. Strangely, the smell of blood mixed with his own scent did not feel as repulsive as she had expected.
And so Odeliana remained quietly cradled in the young boy’s arms for a long while amid the sea of blood.