The Curse Crashes Home

The constellations are laughing. "Selling elixirs could make us some money, right?"

"Yeah, it wouldn't be bad.... Honestly, at this point, we've got no choice but to go for high risk, high return."

"...What do you mean?"

"Monster hunting." Larirure Larirarion said it with a straight face, her expression dead serious.

Monster hunting—from byproducts to bounties on dangerous species—was the fastest, easiest way to make money. But for an F-rank adventurer, unless you were ridiculously strong, it was a gamble no one recommended. You could lose your life, or if you got injured, treatment costs could wipe you out even more.

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

"The best spot is the Magic Palace, but... it's in the Mongrel Kingdom."

"...Connected to that portal, huh?"

Larirure was the type who'd inevitably get dragged into danger—it was plain as day. Adventurers were better off turning back unless they had to charge into the fire. Our goal was defeating the Maou, but there was no rush to grow impatient.

"We'll ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠sell fried chicken and booze on the first floor in the evenings for extra income."

"And hunt monsters during the day to sell the byproducts?"

"It's risky for F-ranks, but I'm actually C-grade despite appearances."

The plan was perfect. Worst case, we could sell elixirs too.

We were happily plotting how to scrape together cash when—

"Ah."

With an ominous groan, the house pillar began to shake.

Oh right, I'd stabbed my palm with a knife—how's my head doing? Plus, Larirure falling and crushing it was getting tallied up too.

So what happens now?

Crack.

"...."

"...."

Our party base collapsed.

The Return skill could've been used—damn it all. I let out a sigh.

We'd just bought the place, and now we were homeless.

"Larirure, you said monster hunting in the Magic Palace pays well?"

"Great for a big score..."

It was tragic. Why were tears flowing? I couldn't even blame anyone—it was my fault, and that made it sadder.

We grabbed what valuables we could for now... Just spare clothes and gear.

Constellations won't give residence-related skills...?

"We'll leave the forge stuff in storage and we've got insurance, so..."

"Good thing."

"Doesn't change that we're in debt."

"Don't worry, I won't abandon you, sis."

"Huh? Wait, does that mean we'll rent a tiny room and cuddle to sleep?"

"We can sleep on the streets."

"Lightning strikes my crown."

Anyway, we trudged into the adventurer's guild with dazed expressions.

Larirure talked to the receptionist, and a few staff headed out to check the damage. The building had been fine, but a pillar collapsed—had to rule out fraud in the deal. Insurance seemed sorted.

We had to find temporary lodging ourselves... Our entire fortune was down to 58 GP.

Money really leaks out endlessly once it starts.

Feeling the woes of a salaryman's life at 19, I sat beside Larirure, eating fried chicken for breakfast.

Ding~

"384 Tiatu has a cheap basement studio, Larirure."

"Security there is trash."

"Got it..."

If the goddess recommends it, it must be dirt cheap.

We had carriage fare, so let's prep to head to the Mongrel Kingdom.

Just in case, I thanked the goddess and tore the Constellation Ticket.

No, it's not bad! Pair it with Deadly Queen for great effect!

I sneak-cast it on Larirure, and suddenly her hand was in mine.

She blinked, piecing it together, then laced her fingers with mine and squeezed tight.

"Feeling anxious, so you wanted to hold sis's hand?"

Her face turned beet red like she'd downed ten bottles of vodka, trembling as steam practically rose from her crown like lightning had struck.

Was that my imagination?

...No reaching out process. It skips straight to the handshake result?

A causality-reversing handshake... or something?

I could feel the constellations' power in the dumbest places.

You're already shaking hands! That's it?

Depending on which hand I target, it could be useful. Disarmament potential?

With clever use, endless applications.

"Human hands are soft... squishy..."

Larirure showed no sign of letting go, watching for when I'd release.

Feeling a bit guilty about the elixir or wrecking the house, I splurged our remaining cash on pricey booze.

"How long to the Mongrel Kingdom by carriage?"

"Just take the gate."

".......Tiatu doesn't have a gate..."

"Why waste money on one in a backwater like this?"

No wonder Po'runga called it a village compared to the city.

Gates... straight out of fantasy. Coordinate-linked teleportation.

"Hero Park Chun-sik made them. Even among dwarves, only naturals can build 'em, and maintenance costs a fortune."

"Whoa, doesn't that make using them expensive for us?"

"Humans ride free. With a human in the party, we're good."

"What's left if they give perks like that?"

Humans that rare? Gates free for them?

Larirure said they're not that pricey since so many use them. 500 SP still sounded steep.

"Ah, there you are. We got info on the suspect from your sketch—check it out."

We were watching Larirure's drinking show when the receptionist found us and handed over a wanted poster.

The photo felt a bit dated, but it matched the girl we saw.

"Hands Collector?"

A Feridae girl nicknamed the Hands Collector. Serial killer who murdered rare-skill adventurers, collecting severed arms. Using her own rare skill, she wielded those hands to use their skills and kept killing.

"....This bitch was executed ten years ago, right?"

The issue: she'd been caught and beheaded a decade back.

She didn't look decapitated.

"Gardriel Island too—ten years ago was cursed."

"...What's Gardriel Island?"

Both the receptionist and Larirure looked stunned at my question. Surprised? Awkward?

The hesitant receptionist aside, she pondered briefly before speaking.

"Island where humans ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠lived. Massacred ten years ago by someone—never caught."

"....."

Sensitive topic for humans.

I said I was fine and downed my drink.

So the girl we saw was a serial killer who should've died ten years ago.

Hard to fake death without adventurers noticing.

"Undead? Or something else. What’s the guild saying?"

"Consulting necromancers. Digging up the grave to check."

"Creepy..."

Even necromancers rarely make undead move like the living.

Larirure figured she must've been alive. Faking death was better, but...

"With the portal stuff, probably tied to demons. High-rank maybe."

"You okay with that?"

"S- or A-ranks'll handle it. Plenty of fame-hungry types."

Once tailed, they were enemies of the entire Trust Union.

They wouldn't die easy, but who knew what tricks until caught.

Openly targeting the city, ignoring the guild, yet using a known killer.

"Discard pawn, or doesn't care if exposed—pick one."

"How strong's the serial killer?"

"S-rank."

Good thing we ran... Chills thinking if we'd been marked.

Grateful for that call, I stashed the poster.

Sigh... my case...

This bag'll wear out fast—can't use it like before.

"So this is a gate..."

The central city gate was dazzling. A swirling portal straight from sci-fi, with arcane semicircle machines beyond comprehension.

Dwarf tech pinnacle?

Worried about warp mishaps, but she assured none, grabbing my hand and leaping in.

Blinding light faded, vision cleared to a new vista.

A massive white greatsword towered visibly.

Trust Union had lots of Rattling; here in Mongrel Kingdom, Canidie and Feridae dominated.

Ding dong deng

"999 floors..."

Captain Igni dropped Park Chun-sik at 666? Park Chun-sik... what the hell...

I'd have punched him.

Impressive Magic Palace... What kind of hero swings a kilometer-long sword? Nah, scales don't match.

Thinking that, I tore the ticket.

"....."

Sell this for cash...?