Chapter 3
Chapter 3
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 3
Chapter Title: The Red-Eyed Guest
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“Ah, come on, just trust me. If nothing else, I’ll make sure the water you drink is perfectly safe.”
“Fine. But only when I’m not looking.”
“Got it.”
In the end, Eugene brought back the water spirit named Mirian.
The process was a bit disgusting to watch, but being able to produce drinkable water anytime, anywhere was an impressive ability.
Of course, that wasn’t the only reason he’d brought Mirian along.
“But you’re really invisible to everyone else?”
“Of course. Not a single one of those humans eaten by that crocodile bastard ever saw me or heard my voice. I tried warning them at first that there was a monster here. But since they couldn’t see or hear me, they all got devoured.”
Spirits were invisible to human eyes, he said.
At least none of the humans who ventured into the swamp had ever seen or heard Mirian.
‘A small spirit that can fly. And if no one but me can see it, that makes it useful in all sorts of ways.’
That was the decisive reason for bringing Mirian along.
For the same reason, Mirian had abandoned the swamp to stick with Eugene.
“Haah! You have no idea how much I suffered all those years. The only one who could see me was that damn monster. You can imagine how lonely and bored I was, right, milord?”
“A little.”
He meant it.
After building his cabin at the foot of the mountain and hiding away, Eugene had barely interacted with anyone.
He’d spent days or even weeks without speaking a word—countless times. Loneliness was the only lifelong companion Eugene had ever known.
“Oh, is that your place, milord?”
“Yeah. But can you drop the ‘milord’ thing?”
“Then what should I call you...? Eugene, sir?”
“Just my name. Neither of us is human anyway.”
“Oh, right! Then since I’m calling you by name, should I drop the formal speech too...?”
“Do whatever.”
“Hehe! Okay, I will!”
Talk about quick to adapt.
Once Mirian realized Eugene wasn’t as uptight as he seemed, the spirit buzzed around excitedly.
“You’re too hyper. Settle down.”
“Got it! I mean, yeah!”
Mirian obediently perched on the tip of Eugene’s shoulder.
Eugene inspected the cabin inside and out, confirming no intruders had come while he was away, then opened the door and stepped inside.
“Whoa! Nice place!”
Mirian flitted about, taking in the sights.
There wasn’t much to see in a simple home furnished only with things Eugene had made himself, but he quickly realized why.
Just as he’d never left the cabin, Mirian had likely never left the swamp either.
Even if the spirit had wanted to form a contract with another being, no one could see it or communicate with it, so there’d been no opportunity.
And that was the fate of nearly all spirits.
For some reason, though, Eugene could see Mirian and speak with him.
That was why Mirian—a low-grade spirit who could form a contract with another being only once in his lifetime—had chosen Eugene.
“Phew. Release.”
Setting down his backpack and shedding his outer layer, Eugene murmured softly.
The black shell covering his upper body vanished seamlessly into his skin.
“Wow, it’s still amazing even after seeing it again. That’s how you can move around in daylight?”
“Yeah. But I can’t go naked everywhere, so I still need clothes over it.”
He’d tested it right at sunrise: the Swamp Monster’s shell perfectly blocked sunlight.
Plus, he could generate it only on specific body parts as needed.
Compared to his old routine of wearing black clothes and a robe to cover up, he could now operate in daylight with twice the physical prowess.
His eyes still needed protection from direct sun with a wide-brimmed hat or helmet, though.
“So, what now?”
“First... I need to meet someone.”
After sunset, Eugene planned to head to Broadwin Village, the nearest settlement from his cabin.
The event he’d assumed had nothing to do with him—which he now knew would happen in Broadwin—was just days away.
But there was no reason to stand by idly this time.
* * *
“Grrraaah!”
Geb, the village chief of Broadwin Village, was leisurely enjoying a beer after dinner.
“Dad!”
“What? What trouble did you cause now?”
When his twelve-year-old eldest son came rushing in, Geb scowled.
“D-Dad, there’s a wild boar outside! The Red-Eyed Monster must’ve come by!”
“What?”
Geb shot to his feet and hurried outside with his son.
Sure enough, a small wild boar lay in front of the gate, surrounded by a low stone wall, throat slit.
“Wow! It’s a pig!”
“Dad! We’re eating meat tonight?”
“Mom! Wild boar!”
“Quiet, you brats! Take it inside!”
As his children clamored noisily, Geb bellowed.
The kids gleefully dragged the boar away, and Geb tilted his head.
“It’s too early for him to come...”
The freak living in a cabin at the distant mountain base—the one they called the Red-Eyed Monster.
When he’d first appeared over ten years ago, everyone had been terrified.
But he’d never harmed anyone, hadn’t even approached the village, and every couple of months, he’d leave hunted beasts like tribute. Now, no one paid him any mind.
For over a decade, the Red-Eyed Monster and the people of Broadwin Village had maintained this odd, mutual respect for boundaries.
Yet just a fortnight after delivering a deer, the freak had left a wild boar here.
“Hunting must be good? That’s weird.”
As Geb turned to head back inside, he froze at the sight of a glowing pair of red eyes atop the wall.
He hadn’t gotten a proper look since that day over ten years ago, but he could tell the freak’s body had grown larger.
From the darkness, the figure beckoned—as if inviting him over for a moment.
‘W-What do I do?’
A chill ran down his spine; he wanted to bolt inside. But this freak had done nothing harmful for over ten years—in fact, he’d shared his hunts.
And unlike usual, he’d brought a boar after just a fortnight.
‘He must have something to say to me.’
Geb, who’d fled to this village after embezzling as a merchant guild clerk in his youth, was sharp-eyed and quick-witted.
He swallowed hard and shuffled toward the stone wall.
“Oh, long time no see. D-Do you have something to say?”
“Mind if I come in for a moment?”
Vampires could only enter a place if invited by the owner, so Eugene—the freak—asked.
“Uh... s-sure, come in.”
With the chief’s permission, Eugene stepped inside the wall.
“I came to let you know my illness is cured.”
With that, Eugene removed his mask.
“...!”
In the moonlight, the chief’s eyes widened at Eugene’s revealed face.
The freak’s features were more than just normal—they were more beautiful than anyone the chief had ever seen.
“I kept everyone away from my cabin because of the poison sickness I caught. It was contagious. But now that I’m healed, I wanted to let you know it’s safe.”
“I-Is that so?”
Instinctively, the chief spoke with respect.
“Still, I won’t come down to the village for a while. It’s easier for both sides that way. But if anything happens or you need my help, call for me anytime.”
“Y-Yes! I will.”
“Then I’ll be off.”
Eugene donned his mask again and walked away.
Staring blankly at his retreating figure melting into the darkness, the chief finally came to his senses and muttered.
“No way, a half-elf? Or maybe... a noble’s descendant? What kind of face is that...”
Back in his clerk days in the city, he’d seen elves occasionally, but the chief was certain the freak’s face from moments ago was far more mysterious and beautiful.
* * *
“So now you’re gonna hang out with the villagers?”
Mirian flapped about in midair, convinced he’d made the right choice sticking with Eugene.
“No.”
“Huh? Then why say all that?”
“There are reasons. Don’t worry about the village. We’ll be leaving in a few days anyway.”
“Really? Awesome! This is exciting!”
Mirian thrashed joyfully. Seeing the real world beyond the swamp was his goal.
‘At least I’ve made proper contact with the chief. Next up...’
In a few days, a band of mercenaries would arrive in Broadwin Village.
Their goal: to take a certain boy living here to Rose Castle, home of the local lord, Lord Tiwin.
Back then, he hadn’t even known about the event—and if he had, he’d have assumed it had nothing to do with him.
‘That day the mercenaries come, everyone in the village will die. But since I’ve spoken to the chief today, he’ll call for me this time. And then...’
Eugene’s eyes turned ice-cold as he raced back to his cabin.
* * *
Three days passed.
In that time, Eugene stayed busy.
During the day, he rested or practiced activating Black Scale Mail—the ability from the Swamp Monster—even faster and more deftly.
At night, he roamed near Broadwin Village, memorizing paths and terrain.
He hunted diligently each night too, preparing for his departure.
While not mid-tier monsters, beast hides fetched good prices—a lesson learned during his past flight.
With not a coin to his name, he’d need to sell hides to survive in the world.
He drank only a little of the beasts’ blood.
After draining so much from the Swamp Monster, he wasn’t hungry—and more than that, it didn’t taste good anymore.
He couldn’t fathom how he’d survived on it before.
Over three days, Eugene hunted two black wolves and four deer. He skinned them all, left the meat at the chief’s house, hoping to boost the man’s goodwill.
Then, at noon on the third day, leaving Mirian at the cabin, Eugene headed to the sole path linking Broadwin to the outside world and took position.
It was a quiet spot with a cluster of about ten leafy trees.
* * *
‘There they are.’
As the sun nearly set, Eugene spotted the group atop a low hill from his perch in the trees, eyes gleaming.
‘Eight of them.’
A typical small mercenary band. True to scruffy wanderers, their gear was poor.
Only three wore leather armor; the rest had quilted cloth gambesons.
The leather-armored ones carried short swords, maces, and round shields, while the others had only wooden clubs and daggers.
‘Take out the ones with short swords and shields first.’
He’d learned from his past escapes: a mercenary’s skill was gauged by their gear’s condition.
Eugene planned to eliminate the three most threatening leaders up front, then handle the rabble.
The mercenaries descended the curving hill path, drawing closer.
In the quiet all around, only the occasional wind rustling branches and leaves sounded.
Mixed in irregularly were the mercenaries’ thudding footsteps, hobnailed boots clacking.
Moments later, as the three leaders passed beneath the trees.
Eugene leaped down silently like a nimble predator, driving his dagger down with his right hand while slashing with elongated nails on his left.
Crunch!
“Gurk!”
“Aaack!”
The one stabbed in the unprotected nape and the one raked across the face staggered.
‘Six left.’
The vampire who’d felled two mercenaries in an instant turned his red eyes on the rest.
(To be continued)
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