Chapter 2
Chapter 2
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 2
Chapter Title: Scout (2)
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After falling into another world, I learned all sorts of things.
Back when I couldn't even speak properly, I ventured into the forest, but there was nothing decent to eat there.
The woods were cold, damp, and crawling with bugs.
Rather than risk dying from some unknown mushroom, I chose to leave the forest and wander the city.
And so, I entered the city.
Wandering turned out to be more fruitful than expected.
A lot of people saw kids as cheap labor, and I even ran errands for a pretty large merchant company.
When I first arrived in the city, I tried washing clothes and making soap.
But the steadiest, most stable money I made was during my time with that merchant company.
I still remember bits and pieces of it.
The most memorable part was the merchant leader—a fairly nearsighted middle-aged lady.
She was actually quite young and spoke refinedly, but her face gave her away.
That lady took a real liking to me.
Her relationship with her young son was terrible, so she was the motherly type who tried to learn what little boys liked through me.
I didn't see her as a mom or anything, but she was someone I could trust.
Aside from that, my memories of the merchant company were all trivial stuff.
Learning to read, getting snacks—things like that.
Because I didn't stick around there for long.
That was when this body drank alcohol for the first time... and when I killed a person for the first time in my life.
I can't recall what happened.
I don't remember who I killed or why.
All I remember are two things.
One was that I'd never go back to that merchant company.
And two...
I had a real talent for killing people.
People die surprisingly easily.
That's why rich soldiers wrap themselves in armor and waddle out to the battlefield.
Just a bit of metal on your body, and people drop dead without much effort.
Heading into a fight drunk? The downsides outweigh the ups by twenty times over.
Honestly, only lunatics or guys who want to look crazy would do it.
I fell into the lunatic category.
I loved booze too much to pass as just crazy-looking.
'Drunk as hell.'
The drunken world was half-blurry.
The ground felt tilted, then shaky.
Stumbling through it was only natural.
No need to twist your body trying to walk "properly."
Just dance along the natural groove etched into your muscles.
Whoosh! Swish!
I dodged the swords swung down by two men.
My evasion must've looked ridiculous to them.
Their eyes showed that clichéd expression: "This punk dodged my attack?"
The assaults kept coming.
Not all of them landed.
Every time I dodged, I caught glimpses of disdain in their eyes...
And doubt about whether they were swinging right.
"How should bad guys die?"
Was it the booze?
I blurted out what I'd only meant to think, then kept rambling for the fun of it.
"Trash has to be cleaned up by whoever sees it."
"Bullshit!"
Whether they hated the drunken nonsense or not, a sword came flying at me pretty hastily.
Swoosh!
To my booze-hazed eyes, that blade looked way too slow.
That earlier ramble? It was my personal idea of justice.
Maybe because there were no cell phones in this world, or maybe I'd attained enlightenment mid-drink, but I'd become a pretty philosophical guy.
Of course, no one else wanted to hear it.
Anyway.
In my book...
There was one answer to how villains should die.
"Pointlessly."
I laid my throat on his sword like placing a fallen leaf atop it.
No strength, no fancy techniques—just like setting down a leaf.
"Like this."
I swung.
My blade was simply faster than his hasty thrust.
And so, in the next moment...
Plop... plop...
The tip of my sword held the head of a man twisted in fury.
A death with no intensity, no meaning.
Fitting for a villain.
I asked,
"You guys are Black Rose, right?"
My voice echoed, but no one responded easily.
His body slumped to the ground, and the head on my sword dripped blood while staying perched.
Blood trickled down the sharp blade to stain my fingertips a bit.
This was how easily people died.
Fling! Thud...
I dropped the head to the floor and raised my voice.
"You killed people like bugs. Try it on me."
I knew how easily humans died, so I didn't go around murdering casually.
Today, they'd pissed me off a little, and I'd heard their notoriety at the tavern first.
So without hesitation, I swung my sword once more.
Shing...
This time, I handled it like placing a snowflake.
Leaf, snowflake—same difference.
As long as you treat it gently, whatever image you conjure works fine.
And so, another head bloomed at my sword's tip on that gentle swing.
But to the others, my swordplay must've seemed shocking.
"What the hell kind of sword is that?"
I tossed the second head aside and kindly explained.
"Figure it out when it's your turn."
"Before that, where'd a bastard like you come from? Are you... this woman's knight or something?"
"Never seen a girl that pretty before."
I could've said it was our first meeting, but the booze betrayed me again.
Whatever, it'd be our last anyway—what's there to nitpick?
"Anyway... here I go."
Two left.
I stabbed the backs of the two still passed out on the ground beside the first pair, then stepped forward.
Sticky blood seeped into my soles, making unpleasant squelching sounds with each step.
"Damn it, I don't wanna die here!"
"Wait...!"
Unlike the leader, who was holding it together, the trembling subordinate lost his reason and backed away.
But there was a wall behind him, and he screamed.
"Stay back!"
His fear-driven choice: hurl a dagger.
It looked desperate, like a last stand, but terror made it all brute force, no finesse.
I tilted my body to dodge easily.
A splatter hit my pant leg, so I glared at the thrower.
"Monster bastard... monster!"
What he thought was his all-out strike crumbling pointlessly had broken him.
As he wound up for another wild toss, I kicked off the blood puddle at my feet, closed in, and split his skull.
Cleaving bone probably dulled my sword again, I figured.
No other feelings. Killing a thrashing foe always felt like this.
My ears wouldn't ring anymore—
Then the leader spoke up.
"What a stroke of bad luck today."
"Tell me about it."
The leader reached for the woman he'd pinned down beside him.
He grabbed her shoulder and pressed a dagger to her throat.
It didn't look like a cheap hostage play.
His eyes weren't frantic with last-ditch rage—they trembled, but with a merchant's cunning glint.
Sure enough, he proposed a deal.
"Hand her over, and I'll let you live."
"Raising a woman costs too much. Pass."
"...... She's a noble. On the verge of being disowned by her family, but still a lady."
"And?"
"I'll introduce you to someone who wants her dead. Sell her, play with her yourself... use her however."
"Why bother?"
The leader's eyes shook violently—he sensed death coming.
I glanced at the lady held hostage.
If I burst the guy's head next to her, she'd probably burst into tears.
Women tend not to be used to blood and cry easily.
'Gotta kill him without much mess.'
I pondered how to do it bloodlessly.
'Oh...?'
Then I felt something in the lady's eyes... and her grip.
I shrugged at the leader.
"Wanna live?"
"Damn it, anything—just spare me. I'll be your dog for dirty work."
"Hmm...... Shall I?"
I widened my eyes.
Desperate hope surged in his.
He pressed urgently, reconfirming.
"Y-you're really gonna let me go?"
"Yeah...... I'll let you live."
His hopeful smile was short-lived.
He asked,
"Me...?"
"Shouldn't have let your guard down."
With that,
The lady, who'd been gathering magic in her hand, unleashed it into his side.
Fwoosh!
It happened in a flash.
A brief flurry swirled in the alley.
As blue light flashed, she snatched the dagger from his hand.
They'd focused all attention on me, ignoring their hostage.
And carelessness came at a steep price.
"You bitch... kgh."
"Die...!"
No more voices after that.
Stab, stab, stab...
Stab! Stab!
She wildly tore into the leader's throat with the dagger.
Seeing such a pretty girl murder so viciously was a first—even I was thrown.
I watched for a bit, then raised an eyebrow.
'Tougher than she looks.'
Not because of the magic.
Magic users are common enough, thanks to the mage towers spreading it around.
No, it was her seizing the chance and killing without hesitation that impressed me.
Not everyone can do that.
I could tell at a glance.
'Sloppy, though.'
First-time killer.
Definitely her first time stabbing with a dagger, at least.
I waded back through the blood-soaked puddle, grabbed my whiskey.
Half a bottle left. I picked up the untouched liquor and headed her way.
She's still going.
"Looks good enough."
"..! ...!!"
Only then did she drop the dagger like trash and sob openly.
Tears streamed silently from her clear, beautiful eyes like dewdrops.
Her ragged breaths meant her heart was pounding wildly.
Time to show some respect and courtesy.
"A drink?"
"Th-thank you."
I handed her the whiskey.
Her trembling hands reached for it like mad.
"Just drink it like this."
She'd spill it, so I poured it straight into her mouth.
Gulp, gulp...
She accepted it meekly.
Her skin was translucent, but her face was blood-splattered from the stabbing.
Such a slender neck.
We locked eyes for a while.
Hers drew me in.
Even as she drank endlessly, she gazed at me with fragile eyes.
'Oops.'
Gulp, gulp...
I'd been pouring nonstop without realizing.
Why'd she keep drinking?
"Stop, stop! Lips off... urk."
Got lost in it, and this happened.
Women are scary.
Half a bottle down to a quarter while I spaced out staring.
I hurriedly swigged the rest, blowing into the bottle.
Couldn't let her steal more of mine.
I chugged the whiskey into my gut and finally exhaled.
"Ah...!"
Is she a boozer too?
Why's her face flushing and her hands fidgeting?
"Ugh... phew. Thought it'd be tasty since it's expensive. Meh."
"Is that so...?"
After that, we couldn't mix words amid the tears.
I'm no good at talking to women.
I stood first to leave.
Couldn't stay put forever, and nothing good came from lingering in a bloodbath.
'Oh, she's getting up.'
She followed, legs shaky but managing to stand.
No need for me to offer a hand.
'Impressive.'
Covered in gore, catching her breath and rising.
The booze hit her sudden-like, but still—a woman worthy of respect.
Figured we'd never meet again, so...
I started to bid farewell and turn.
'.......?'
But she did something weird out of nowhere.
I asked without thinking.
"What're you doing?"
She pulled a blood-soaked handkerchief from her bosom, knelt before me, and offered it.
"I'm so sorry to impose on my savior like this... but I had to give you this."
Like a man proposing.
First time for this—I was flustered too.
Ignoring my shock, she spoke in a quivering voice.
"My name is Aster Elisia."
In the filthy alley backdrop, ragged beggar me and the well-dressed noble lady.
Man standing while woman knelt—a total mess.
Aster, as she named herself, fought back tears in her eyes and said,
"Please... become my knight."
Wh-why me...?