Girl Head of Household (1)

Madness exists in this world.

As a rule, that madness splits into two kinds.

They call them fake madness and true madness.

But this cursed world was a stage for the genuine article.

Coming from a great philosopher, it landed with more weight than I wanted to admit. He was right. Madness is something a god hands down.

From the moment that bastard of a god stuffed me into this lunatic world, I had no choice but to take Plato at his word. I don't actually know whose doing it was—but who else besides a god could pull a stunt like this? Taking a perfectly ordinary person and turning them into a character from a piece-of-trash game.

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

My eyes snapped open at that aggressively cheerful alarm. Still in my pajamas, I headed for the bathroom to start the day. I washed my face, finished brushing my teeth, and took a look at a reflection I had long since gotten used to.

Pretty, I had to admit. And it wasn't just the face. Modest chest, a narrow waist—the silhouette alone could reel a man in. Pale skin, no spare fat, and muscle laid on in clean, attractive lines. With looks like these, even in this cursed world, I could have picked out a few rich men and lived in luxury.

I just wouldn't have lived long.

"Ah, damn it... I forgot to buy milk yesterday."

Not that I would. Physiology wouldn't allow it, for one thing, and I had no intention of living that way besides. The eyes were another matter—blood-red, and so empty of life they tended to unnerve people. Maybe that was just a question of taste.

Anyway, I was one more ordinary civilian trying to get by. I woke up in the morning, grabbed a simple meal, and went out to earn enough to survive the day.

There was, however, one peculiarity.

"Milk and eggs on the way home... cabbage and beer, too. Anything else?"

I lived in Hero City, a metropolis administered by those superhumans they call awakeners.

The name give it away yet? This cursed world was built on the game Hero Maker. A character-raising gacha title where you train heroes and keep the city safe from villains. And I, unluckily enough, had been locked inside the body of one of that world's unfortunate girls, condemned to this cursed life.

The girl's name was Capella. At eight years old, a superhuman who appeared in the city slaughtered her entire family. She herself nearly died, and only survived by awakening her power by chance—a wretched little girl left standing alone. Orphaned, she drifted from place to place until the mafia picked her up and raised her as their executioner. In the end she was treated as a villain, fought the heroes, and exited the story as nothing more than a tragic bad guy with a miserable past.

"Oh. Right. Christmas is almost here."

After I became that Capella, the story changed a little. As these transmigration tales usually go, I knew the original plot, so I was better off than the real Capella had been. I still couldn't save her parents, and I still ended up an orphan—but I had no intention of becoming the mafia's hunting dog, so I came to this city instead.

Too many of this world's heroes were monsters in their own right. Turn villain and you wouldn't live out a natural lifespan. Capella might have been a strong awakener, but she couldn't take on a pack of heroes, and there were plenty of people stronger than her besides. Innate talent only goes so far. Becoming a hero's target was absolutely not on the table. That was why I hadn't followed the original path into villainy. If I had, the mafia would have let me live high for a little while, at least.

"While I'm at it, I should buy a present today."

The conclusion, then: in this world, the best way to live was not to be seen. Fortunately, even as an awakener inside Hero City, you weren't forcibly conscripted or at risk of being snatched by the government. There was no reason to draw attention and land on the heroes' watch list, and if something dangerous happened you ducked into a shelter and kept your head down. Nothing came of it. I had lived that way for ten years. I intended to keep living that way.

Some people would call me an idiot for this. I knew this world's secrets and its future, and I had a superhuman's power besides—living like this was just laziness and cowardice. If they were in my place, they'd say, they'd use that knowledge to become the strongest hero, or the strongest villain.

They weren't wrong. Contrary to what the world believed, an awakener could still grow after awakening, and powerful treasures slept in every corner of the globe. That was exactly why I kept my head down. I knew the filthy, ugly secrets of this cursed world, and I knew about the weapons so dangerous that a single misstep could put the entire planet at risk. I did not have it in me to carry that. And besides—I was never going to be a hero or a villain in the first place.

"Hey, Kim! Eat your lunch first!"

"Sure thing. You not eatin', miss?"

I appreciated the kindness, but I waved it off politely. An empty stomach made it easier to move.

"Then at least drink some water. You try to wrap a job like this too fast, you'll drop dead on us."

"Thank you."

Maybe it was the safety goggles hiding my eyes, but the laborers treated me like anyone else. The bottled water I pulled from the icebox might as well have been the water of life. I wet my throat with the cold instead of food, wiped the sweat from my forehead, and looked around.

The workers, soaked through, had ducked under the tents to catch their breath and sip coffee out of the sand wind. Outside the tents, traces of battle lay everywhere, and the corpses of beasts the size of cargo trucks were scattered across the ground.

This was a disposal site for those corpses. After the heroes put down beasts that threatened their city, laborers handled the remains. Leave them and more beasts would come sniffing; the bodies also held all kinds of rare resources, so nothing went to waste.

"These ones came out pretty clean this time. Who the hell dropped 'em this neat?"

I drank my water a little apart from the others. I didn't much like conversation, and I preferred to rest quietly on my own. I could still hear every word, of course.

"Heard the Golden Witch took the job. That's why all we gotta do is load beasts with holes in 'em. Sandstorm's too bad to bring the heavy equipment in anyway."

A magic-type hero, then. That explained the tidy work. Normally they'd use machines more than people for this, but on a day with blowing sand the gear risked breaking down, so they used human hands. Not that swallowing sand dust was any better for people. They issued work goggles and masks, but that didn't mean a complete seal. They used laborers anyway because people were cheaper than machines. It also created jobs in the city.

"And that girl's why the work's moving so fast. Looks young, but she's strong as hell. Puts most of the young guys to shame."

"Think she might be a C-Rank or B-Rank awakener?"

They weren't ordinary people either. A site like this only took awakeners—people with superhuman strength. They looked like regular middle-aged men, but any one of them ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠could tear a bear apart.

"You're kidding. If she were, she'd be doing hero work, not this backbreaking crap. Haah. If my daughter were as good and hardworking as that girl, I wouldn't ask for anything else..."

"Didn't you say Park's kid starts high school next year?"

"Don't even. Couple days ago the little brat stole this old man's cigarettes and her mother and I had it out."

They just weren't strong enough to play hero. Lower-rank awakeners, three or four times tougher than a regular person, working a site like this. At best they could handle one or two weak beasts; the B-Rank corpses lying around here would overwhelm them even in a pack. Day labor like this was about as safe a way as they had to make decent money. The hazard pay was high enough that I did it as a side income too. A month's living expenses, easy.

"Should be about time..."

As the break wound down, I checked the clock. Two in the afternoon. Lunch hour for the heroes and Hero Association staff—the window when a supervisor with any rank at all left the site to eat in a proper cafeteria inside the city instead of from a lunchbox. If you were going to hit this place, this was the moment.

KA-BOOM!

"The hell was that explosion?!"

A blast went off in a corner of the worksite. The laborers jolted up from their meals, and most of them scrambled onto the trucks, ready to run.

"Everybody get on! Where'd that girl go?!"

"She hopped another truck! Just go! We sit here and we're all dead!"

Even the highest-ranked awakener among the laborers was only C-Rank, and not a working hero besides—they couldn't even buy time. If a beast had survived, staying meant a massacre, so they followed the manual: get ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠on the trucks and evacuate first. Gear could be recovered later. People, once dead, were done.

"...Speak of the devil."

I looked around for something I could use as a weapon and picked up a crowbar that looked good for swinging. A worksite made procurement easy. Time to get to the real job. A lump of money had rolled right up to my feet, and I couldn't help smiling.

I hadn't come to this construction pit for the daily wage. I had come to hunt the villain who was about to raid it.