The Alley Captain
Thud, thud, thud.
Under a night sky draped in darkness, two people walked along a narrow path winding through the woods.
A man who had only just shed the last traces of youth, and a girl who looked to be in her late teens.
Neither of them wore so much as a single ornament, yet even the girl’s plain priestly robes seemed to suit her perfectly, the sacred air around her blending with her striking beauty.
As the season drew colder, even the insects had fallen silent, and a hush settled over the world.
'This miserable ordeal is finally coming to an end.'
The man complained inwardly, already sick to death of the journey.
Every day had been hell.
Going hungry was routine, and they’d had to keep repeating the same days of giving away what little they had.
But no more. They wouldn’t have to suffer like this now.
With the end finally in sight, the two of them, worn down by the road, had begun to relax.
Step.
They stopped walking for a moment.
Waaah.
The cry of a newborn drifted from nearby.
Unless someone had lost their mind, there was no reason to bring a baby into a dark forest at night.
The man looked at the girl and shook his head.
It was a signal to just keep going. The girl stood there for a long moment before speaking.
“I think we should at least check.”
The girl started toward the direction of the sound.
After walking a little way along a path no one used, they found a baby lying on its back on the cold ground, crying. Instinctively, the girl crouched down and picked the infant up.
“We should leave it here.”
At the man’s cold, unfeeling words, the girl turned her head.
His expression was utterly devoid of warmth.
The man continued flatly, “Seeking salvation without another’s consent is forbidden. If we simply pretend not to see it and move on, it won’t affect us at all. We wouldn’t be committing murder. We’d only be passing by.”
From the Church’s point of view, it was a horrifyingly correct statement.
According to doctrine, there was an orally transmitted commandment: do not offer aid to those who do not seek mercy.
If one helped the pitiable simply because they seemed miserable, that was arrogance.
This commandment saved only those who desired mercy.
Cruelly enough.
A newborn who could not even speak was not considered a subject of salvation.
The girl looked down at the child in her arms, who had stopped crying. The baby was trembling so hard from the cold that its whole body shook.
At last, the girl made up her mind.
“…I heard a voice asking for salvation.”
The crying.
The baby had wailed itself toward the end of life, its cries growing weak and small.
Those blue eyes, as the body’s temperature fell and death drew near, were still clawing desperately toward life.
“I wouldn’t recommend such an emotional decision. If you take the child with you, you may be stripped of your rank. Just for this one moment, suppress your conscience and pretend you saw nothing. You may regret this choice for the rest of your life.”
The man warned the young girl with navy hair in a stern voice.
It was an age of protracted war between the demon realm and humanity.
As a candidate for sainthood, she was already among the leaders of every nation.
The girl had climbed to this place through blood and sweat since childhood.
The man, who had watched her relentless struggle from the beginning, tried to persuade her at length.
Without a word, the girl held the child tighter and stood up.
She lightly took the lead on the road they had just walked.
“Then let’s do that.”
Disappointment clouded the man’s face.
The party of two had become three, and they walked toward the bright city that contrasted so sharply with the dark night.
---
“Hilde. Are you feeling sick?”
Agatha looked at her daughter with concern.
Just a moment ago, she had been watching her daughter munch on bread with satisfied eyes, but then Hilde’s face had gone pale, and she had dropped the bread entirely.
Her daughter, who had been staring blankly without saying a word all day, had Agatha worried.
“Sweetheart, are you all right?”
She leaned over and wiped the cold sweat from Hilde’s forehead with a handkerchief.
Since her daughter was always healthy and never even caught the smallest illness, it frightened her all the more.
Hilde lowered the spoon she’d been holding and neatly folded her hands.
Her eyes were trembling wildly for some reason.
“Ah…”
In an instant, Hilde understood her situation.
I’ve been reincarnated.
Memories from her past life surged up endlessly.
She was dazed, but first she had to make sure she didn’t worry the mother who had raised her with so much love and warmth.
She remembered the innocent days of her eleven-year-old life.
Oh, am I cute? Really? Heehee.
Ugh.
As a man in his early thirties, that was still hard to endure.
Hilde barely managed to steady herself.
“I think I’ve gotten heatstroke. My stomach feels a little off.”
The cause was not the heat.
Her mother’s face filled with worry.
“Is that so? Then don’t force yourself to finish if you can’t. Should I make you some medicine later?”
“I’ll be fine without medicine before long. Thank you for the meal, Mother!”
After saying grace and giving her thanks, Hilde went up to the room on the second floor.
Watching her daughter, Agatha sighed as she looked at the lunch Hilde had left behind, barely touched.
A bright, kind child.
Hilde was so sweet and lovely that it seemed she wouldn’t even hurt if you put her in your eye.
But unfortunately, that was exactly the problem—she was growing up too well.
Hilde’s beauty bloomed more and more with each passing year.
Because of that, the boys in the mountain village had lately started fawning over her and pestering her to play with them.
Hilde got along with the village children with cheerful ease, but that might have made things worse.
A beautiful child who was obedient, gentle, and listened well.
Now eleven years old, Hilde was quiet and well-behaved, but from Agatha’s perspective, most of the children her age in the village were rough and troublesome.
She had even asked whether there was someone Hilde liked, and the answer had come back like this:
I like Mom the best!
Because her daughter still had no interest whatsoever in the opposite sex, Agatha only worried more.
That was when it happened.
Knock, knock, knock.
Harsh knocking rang out from the wooden front door. When she opened it, a young man stood there, one of the ones who often came looking for her daughter.
He was the son of a local with decent hunting skills. She knew from hearing about him from Hilde now and then that there was no trouble between the two of them. If anything, they got along well.
“Hello, Aunt Agatha.”
“Yes, hello. What brings you here?”
It was Victor, the son of the hunter Walter. He was sixteen this year, a young man just past the age of boyhood.
The reason for his visit was obvious.
“Uh, we were supposed to eat and then go play together. Could you call Hilde for me?”
Just as expected.
Agatha let out a sigh to herself, thinking of Hilde, who had even been too sick to finish her meal.
“I’m sorry. Hilde isn’t feeling well today, so she can’t come out.”
“I see. Well, that can’t be helped. Is she very sick?”
“Hehe. There’s no need to worry so much. Come back another time.”
Agatha sent off the thoroughly dejected Victor and closed the door.
Worry gnawed at her.
Every year, as Hilde grew one year older and prettier, all the young men in the mountain village kept appearing at her door whenever they pleased.
---
Click.
After closing the door, Hilde approached the mirror with trembling movements.
Hah. Damn it. Even I can tell I’m way too pretty. This is bad.
Hair the color of sunlight, long enough to reach her waist.
Her eyes tilted slightly upward at the corners, giving her, in simple terms, a catlike look.
Even at the tender age of eleven, her features were so distinct and appealing that even Hilde herself found them unreal.
She had a Western sort of beauty, yet because her lines weren’t too sharp, there was a faintly Eastern impression to her as well.
Staring at her reflection with trembling pupils, Hilde seemed to suffer a shock so great that her legs gave out and she sank to the floor.
Hilde had been an ordinary office worker in South Korea in her previous life.
She had once harbored dreams of making her own game, and when the game she’d built with RPG Maker tools struck gold, she had been able to quit the bastard company and live a leisurely life.
And there was one important fact.
In her past life, Hilde had been a man.
As usual, she had been eating the lunch her mother had lovingly prepared when, today of all days, the memories of her previous life had come flooding back at once.
For a moment her head had hurt so badly she almost screamed, but she’d held it in so as not to startle her mother.
Come to think of it, that was pretty admirable. I was a remarkably filial child.
Hilde clenched and unclenched her hands.
They moved very naturally.
The memories of her past life had appeared all at once in an instant, but they were fragmented and patchy; they hadn’t been enough to erase her identity completely.
She might not be exactly the same as before, but her sense of self still leaned more toward that of an eleven-year-old girl.
But that didn’t mean she was pure and innocent and all flowers and sunshine, either.
Agatha.
Agatha was Hilde’s mother. The only mother in this world, kind and gentle and devoted to raising her.
She had had no parents in her previous life, so whenever she thought of Agatha, a smile naturally rose to her lips.
In her past life, she had often imagined what it would have been like to have a mother, and after reincarnating, that fantasy had become reality.
That was the only advantage of reincarnation.
Unfortunately, she had never seen her father even once.
But once Hilde, now eleven years old and fully aware of the truth of this world, considered it carefully, worry suddenly crept in.
This world was not some peaceful, pleasant place.
I don’t think I’m one of the playable characters… What am I supposed to do?
She clutched her spinning head and thought of the world she herself had created.
It was a crazy game full of dangerous monsters, not to mention heavenborn and demonkind who were far beyond the norm, appearing wherever people lived and causing havoc.
And if relations between nations soured even slightly, there was always the possibility of war sweeping in as an event right on cue.
The powerless common folk were no more than flies whose lives could be snuffed out at any moment.
In such a mad world, the role of the playable character, true to cliché, was the hero who opposed the Demon King.
Gathering comrades for the other roles while choosing just one heaven-given talent, and in the end bringing about a peaceful world—that was the game’s main story.
If she played as the playable character, all of this would amount to nothing more than entertainment.
But if the monsters don’t get us, the bandits definitely won’t leave this village alone if our luck is bad.
Hilde barely pulled herself together and looked back into the mirror.
In this game, there was also a beauty ranking, and when playing a female character, the higher your rank, the more dangerous or troublesome events would occur.
Choosing a male character had been the better option if you wanted a somewhat easier clear.
That was why she had been so crushed by her reflection.
Even though she was only eleven, Hilde was already known in the village for being beautiful.
Her future was decisively not going to be smooth.
To survive in a world like this, there was only one goal.
I have to get strong. No matter what it takes.
But Hilde was crushed by despair again.
Thinking of her own arm strength—the kind that couldn’t even open a jar of jam in the kitchen—she had no idea where to even begin.
It was practically the creation of something from nothing.
In the game, you could train in a dedicated practice yard or a temple, but Hilde wasn’t a hero or anything of the sort.
She was just a powerless girl from a mountain village.
Born in the mountains, she should have been sturdier than kids raised in the city, but Hilde’s natural strength was scraping the bottom of the barrel.
Still, she couldn’t afford to stay discouraged.
If she was lucky, she’d at least be able to protect her own body.
This game had a growth system in which even NPCs could become valuable assets if raised well.
In this continent, one in every hundred people manifested something called a Holy Stigma at the age of fifteen.
Some stigmas were comparatively useless, like making you better at laundry or cleaning, but as a former developer, she knew at least one loophole for making sure a good stigma would appear.
If she received a good stigma, she’d be able to escape when the fires of the world came crashing down on her.
As Hilde sorted through the situation, hope began to fill her eyes.
Right. I just need to hold out until the hero party clears everything.
The hero party centered on the playable character’s role, gathering companions for the other positions and making their mark.
A swordsman handled the front line and the main damage.
A mage provided all manner of utility and secondary ranged damage.
A saint chosen by the gods was a universal support who took in the miasma exuded by demonkind and cast buffs and healing.
The hero party wasn’t limited to just three people. If necessary, you could always add a few more companions.
But as the difficulty climbed in the later stages, middling companions tended to die over and over, dragging down morale, so most players didn’t add too many.
If morale dropped, even carefully nurtured companions might suddenly leave the party, and since combat power was reduced by a percentage, management had to be meticulous.
Lost in thought about what to do, Hilde was startled by another sharp knock at the door.
She had never once been surprised by a knock before, but for some reason, this one felt odd.
Like being caught doing something bad.
It was the first time she’d ever felt like that since reincarnating.
Hilde, who had been standing in front of the mirror, hurriedly threw herself onto the bed. She didn’t know why, but her heart was pounding hard.
It felt exactly like being caught doing something wrong.
“Hilde. I made some medicine to help with digestion. May I come in?”
“Yes. Come in, Mother.”
Calming her racing heart, Hilde watched Agatha enter the room carrying a tray with a single teacup on it.
Her dark navy hair had grown long and was neatly arranged in a calm style.
Though she was raising an eleven-year-old daughter, Agatha was only in her late twenties, and at first glance she still looked young and beautiful.
Even now, if she went into the city or the market, people would still turn to look at her.
“You don’t look well today, Hilde. Is there perhaps some child bullying you?”
Agatha stroked Hilde’s hair.
She was smiling gently, but if Hilde were to mention even one name, Agatha would undoubtedly fly into a rage and go give that person a proper beating.
Fortunately, as far as Hilde could remember, no one was cruel to her.
“Everyone’s kind and nice. They argue sometimes, but they apologize quickly and make up, which is fun to watch.”
“I’m glad to hear that, Hilde. If anyone ever does bully you, don’t hide it—tell me right away.”
She sipped the medicine from the warm tea Agatha handed her.
Ugh, spit spit.
The medicine was terribly bitter.
From the perspective of her eleven-year-old tongue, it was the kind of bitterness that practically defined poison.
But because it always worked, she held her breath and forced it all down.
Before she knew it, the pounding in her chest had calmed.
That was less because of the medicine and more because of the mother who always looked after her.
Even with the memories of a past life, Agatha was undeniably her mother.
---