Chapter 1
Chapter 1
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 1
Chapter Title: Scout (1)
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"Are you even listening to me?"
"I was listening just fine. Your wife likes roses or something, right? Heh."
"Khahaha! Damn it. You weren't listening at all."
The tavern owner burst into hearty laughter before suddenly turning dead serious.
I froze at the abrupt change, wondering if he was finally going to collect on all the tabs I'd racked up, a chill running down my spine.
But what he grilled me on next wasn't nearly as scary as I'd feared.
"Black Rose, you idiot. The crazy bastards who kill people like they're bugs!"
"So?"
"Word is those guys are starting to stretch their legs in this neighborhood."
"Uh... yeah."
Thud!
The owner slammed his fist down hard on the already ancient tavern table.
Dust puffed up from the cracks in the wood, settling beside my glass.
I wiped it away with my finger and pouted.
The owner looked genuinely pissed, breathing heavily through his nose.
What was so exciting about some crazy group?
Still, without this guy, no more booze for me.
That'd wipe out nine-tenths of the joy in my life, so I figured I should at least respond.
I thought for a moment, then answered in a serious tone.
"Sounds scary as hell."
"Ha! Acting all serious now, you punk."
"...Are you a mind reader or something?"
He was one scary bastard. How'd he know?
I gulped down another shot from my glass.
The pleasant sound of liquor sliding down my throat rang in my ears, warmth spreading through my gut and up to my head.
No matter how much I drink, this never gets old.
Watching me with a pathetic look, the owner scrubbed furiously at a glass.
That was his bad habit—whenever he got mad, he'd take it out on some poor, innocent glass.
'Gonna break it at this rate.'
I glanced at his face.
He seemed genuinely worried about me.
"That's it for business tonight. Head home."
"That's harsh."
I felt truly aggrieved, slurring my words a bit even to my own ears.
"Black Dandelion or whatever, you think I'm gonna pick a fight? Just pour me another."
"If you get yourself killed drowning in the booze I sell, how am I supposed to face my wife—you know, the one you saved?"
"...I saved your wife?"
"Argh, you damn drunk! Get the hell home!"
This was so unfair from my end. I really couldn't remember.
And what? Go home?
I'm a wandering ronin who treats the streets as my bed.
Leaning against my two swords like pillars and dozing off wherever—that's my daily routine. Home?
Still, he meant well, so I couldn't just spit and leave.
"Fine... I'm going."
I licked up even the last drops of liquor clinging to the glass, then stood.
By now, the rundown tavern was empty except for me and the owner.
As I donned my hat and grabbed my swords to leave, a surprisingly kind voice called out.
"Hey, Guro."
I still wasn't used to that name.
Maybe because my real name lingered in my head.
Or maybe it was just too damn unique.
I shot him a look that said, Why do you ask?
The owner gave me some sincere advice.
"I know you're a decent fighter, but rumors say those guys learned from 'knights'... Don't actually fight them. Just bow your head and run if you have to."
"Heh..."
I waved him off vaguely.
The owner turned to finish closing up.
I turned too.
Stepping out into the chilly night breeze, I found myself in the back alleys.
Men swarmed the street corners, groping at whores, while gamblers even more booze-soaked than me overflowed from the dives.
What kind of world was this again?
I glanced up at the sky for a moment, but the dark heavens offered no answers.
The booze had my memories fuzzy too—was this a game, a novel, or just some parallel world? No clue.
Twenty years since I entered this body.
Came in at four, so that made me twenty-four now.
"Twenty years... I've lived a long time."
No real reflections. Just more wandering, as always.
Through the back alleys, where the wind grew ever colder.
With the one bottle of premium whiskey I'd blown my entire fortune on.
"My sweet little darling."
Heh heh, tonight was shaping up to be blissfully elegant.
"Now... to spend the night with such a noble lady, I need somewhere nice and quiet."
I cradled the whiskey like a lover and scanned for a secluded spot.
Perfect place... right there.
A narrow path ran beside a guy passed out half-dead.
No sign of life from that alley—nice and shadowy, no one would come.
Ideal for my fiery night with the whiskey.
No questions asked, I headed straight in.
"Haaah..."
The cool breeze glided over my booze-warmed body, feeling damn good.
I took off my hat, leaned against the wall, and downed about half the bottle.
"Mm..."
Then I felt a slight twinge in my lower gut.
Too much drinking—my bladder was about to burst.
In these back alleys, even corpses went uncleaned. Daily life.
Pissing in the street wasn't even bad manners here.
The walls were filthy anyway—folks dumped all kinds of waste without a second thought.
Plus, public toilets charged money.
Made me appreciate Korea's free ones all over again.
I lowered my pants a bit and started humming a tune.
"Hmm hmm... Hm?"
That's when I was properly watering the wall.
Until the uninvited guests showed up.
Whoosh! Whish, whirrr!
From the dim depths of the alley, a flurry of daggers flew at me.
"Well, now."
The straightforward projectiles were all aimed at my head.
I dodged them all with a few tilts, then peered toward where they'd come from.
Squinting into the dark, I made out a few shadowy figures.
Not clear, though—they seemed dressed in black.
And then, the moon broke free from the clouds.
Light spilled into the stinking alley, letting me and the dagger-throwers see each other.
Trickle trickle...
Timing was a bit off.
"What're you staring at?"
Damn. Caught red-handed watching a guy take a piss?
**
"Hey, you."
"Please stop staring. It's embarrassing."
"...What? No, how the hell are you still alive?"
"Uh... beats me."
Asking a living guy if he's alive? Absurd.
They must've thought those daggers had finished me.
I pulled up my pants.
My body shivered once.
They eyed me—the guy mid-piss—with disbelief that I'd actually dodged their attack.
A mix of shock and suspicion on their faces.
"Hm."
I considered playing dead, but my head spun, so I just waved lazily.
Then I felt one gaze—distant yet desperate.
I glared back at the black-clad group.
Six in total, armed with daggers and assorted weapons.
Nothing long like spears or crude like clubs—just short blades and keen swords.
Obvious assassins, screaming it with their gear.
Up close, they all wore masks emblazoned with a black flower.
...Hold on. Black Dandelion? The ones he told me to watch out for?
'Eh, same difference.'
Throwing daggers at random folks.
These must be the lunatics called Black Dandelion.
'Kidnapping, maybe?'
I looked away from the black-clad thugs.
And at the woman collapsed on the ground.
'Oh.'
The desperate gaze belonged to a stunning beauty.
Didn't feel like a whore at all. Her clothes were fine material—noble stuff.
Black hair, red eyes.
In my book... cool beauty. The type who'd ignore you even if you talked, living in her own league.
Damn pretty, though, so I matched her stare for a bit.
Was she begging me to save her with that look?
Nah.
She wanted me to run and fetch help.
I'm a pro at reading faces.
Anyway, that's that, and this is this.
"I didn't see nothing. Do what you gotta do."
I didn't want to get dragged in, so I tried wrapping it up like that.
'Don't look at me like that.'
I felt a glare full of fury, but whatever.
Guys who get mixed up with pretty girls never end well in back alleys.
No good could come from tangling with these creeps anyway.
"Later."
Seemed like it'd blow over easy.
But no—these guys were nuts too.
"What do we do?"
"...Weird guy, but witnesses in the back alleys gotta die, trash or not."
"I'll handle it."
"No, you two go."
Hey, I said I'm leaving.
They must not know how tight-lipped I am. They weren't letting me go.
The boss-looking one pointed at me.
Two charged fast, closing the gap.
Stable stances—trained somewhere.
Ready to shut me up with those sharp blades.
You could tell they'd killed plenty.
"Sigh..."
Running wouldn't shake them—they'd stick like glue.
Why won't the world leave a drunk like me alone? Man.
I checked my whiskey, left behind me.
If it shattered while I messed around, I'd die of despair.
So I stepped forward.
And then.
My arms vanished from the charging duo's sight for a split second.
"Gah!!"
"Ugh?!"
I thrust both arms through their guards, grabbing their throats.
They looked clueless in that instant.
Tough luck—ignorance means pain.
"Hup!"
Bam! Boom!!
I hoisted them by brute force and slammed them into the ground.
Rumble...
The earth shook faintly. Dust billowed.
"Guh... hack."
"Gehk..."
Air hissed from the crashed men's mouths in the quiet aftermath.
The black-whatever boss gaped in disbelief.
"........What?"
Everyone looked pretty rattled.
Especially the woman who'd been glaring daggers at me—her face changed dramatically.
What? Why that expression?
Like she'd struck gold?
Couldn't make sense of it.
Weak to piercing stares, I turned away.
Looked at the boss instead.
"What the... w-wait a sec."
With two buddies down, they hesitated.
Honestly, I'd planned to drop the rushers and bolt.
Wanted to melt my brain with whiskey quick.
"Anyway, that's me done..."
I smiled nicely, turned to slip away.
Grab the whiskey and go—they wouldn't chase.
I turned.
And that's when my eyes caught a horrific, wretched sight.
I froze, clenching my fists till they bled, and growled.
"Damn it all."
A low voice escaped my lips, startling them all.
No wonder—I was angrier than I'd been in ages, top ten lifetime pissed.
Even I didn't recognize my own voice.
I spun back to face them.
"I said I was leaving."
One reason.
The whiskey, half-open from earlier, had toppled from the vibrations, spilling more than half on the ground.
My whiskey.
Half of it, on the filthy ground.
This precious stuff.
Because these bastards jumped me.
My patience snapped.
Hassled, peep show while pissing, now half my joy stolen?
"You rotten fucks."
I drew my swords.
Time to teach them the price of messing with a plain drunk.