Paranoia Takes Root
Porter: Johann40
The hero's response came late. His voice cracked irritably, like a feral cat with a foul temper. It sounded like he'd just been jolted awake from sleep.
"Who is it?!"
The voice carried sharp aggression. Whether it was annoyance at being disturbed or extreme wariness kicking in, it was hard to tell. Probably both.
"It's me."
"Oh. The porter. What do you want?"
With a metallic click, the door swung open. It was the kind that locked from the inside, as expected. True to form for someone on the run, the hero made a habit of securing his room diligently.
"I came to check on your condition, Hero. Was I disturbing your sleep?"
"Honestly? Yeah."
The hero flopped back onto his bed. The dark circles under his eyes spoke volumes about his exhaustion. Both his mind and body were crumbling steadily. Physically and mentally, he was in a groggy haze.
"Is there anything you need? I'll bring it next time."
"I'm craving something sweet. Might be indulgent, but snacks would hit the spot."
"Got it. There's a bakery nearby with an amazing aroma—I'll grab a variety of pastries."
"Thanks. Porter, this might sound weird out of the blue, but... I actually thought you were a bad guy at first."
"Huh? Was my first impression that bad?"
"Nah. Probably just my inferiority complex. I realize now how pointless that feeling is."
There was one fact the hero hadn't grasped yet. The man standing before him, smiling innocently and chatting casually, was the deadliest dagger aimed at his throat.
"I'm glad you think better of me now, even if it's late. Oh, by the way, I ran into some shady guys on my way into the inn."
"Shady guys?"
"Yeah. They were going on about how they'd clearly seen a murderer's face, and that the guy was holed up here."
At Johann's words, an earthquake rippled through the hero's pupils. Johann pretended not to notice and continued smoothly.
"Something about a bounty, too. Probably tied to that murder a few days ago. Just some worthless loudmouths spreading rumors, I'm sure. No way a killer the guards couldn't catch is strolling these streets unscathed, right?"
"Y-yeah. Adventurers get swept up in dumb rumors all the time. What'd they look like?"
"Dressed like a priest and a mage. The priest had broad shoulders and a sturdy build—like a monk. The mage was your typical nerdy wizard type. You don't buy into that nonsense too, do you, Hero?"
"Of... course not. Just curious what idiots fall for baseless gossip."
"I see. Oh, look at the time. The others might worry if I'm out too long. I should head back. Take care of yourself, Hero."
"Thanks. Watch your step."
As soon as Johann left, the hero frantically scanned the room, stuffing anything of value into a small bundle. His breathing came in ragged gasps, as if he'd sprinted a marathon. Ominous scenarios flooded his mind, tormenting him.
"Witnesses... Damn it. Gotta get out of here fast."
He'd just secured a hideout, and now fate was tightening its noose again. The brief relaxation from rest had vanished; his body stiffened once more.
"I won't get caught. A dungeon or the gallows—that's not how my life ends..."
The hero muttered fiercely, eyes flashing.
At least the heavens hadn't abandoned him yet. Thanks to the porter's tip, he could prepare in advance.
"With witnesses around, I can't stay in this village long. Gotta leave as soon as possible..."
That thought led to another. Drugs.
"......"
Leaving the village meant no more supply. That fact shackled his ankles.
He'd sworn just hours ago to quit, but as his mind grew dizzy, the drugs resurfaced. Their languid pleasure and ecstatic high were the only escape from his crushing sense of defeat.
He swallowed dryly. Could he really live out the rest of his life without them?
He already knew the answer. No.
"Can't leave this place..."
He needed another way. Fortunately, a solution came easily—one he'd used plenty before.
Murder.
The witnesses to his crime seemed few and far between. If there were many, he'd already be caught. Those guys might be the only ones.
'Probably hiding it to claim the bounty solo.'
That left him a chance. The hero checked his condition.
*-*-*
The Wanderer's Village was full of curiosities. For Vints, hailing from another world, its retro charm turned the streets into a personal amusement park. With some rare alone time, he stepped out in high spirits.
Even in his original world, he loved casual strolls for a mood boost. The exotic vibes of Wanderer's Village made it the perfect walking route. The bustling crowd noise served as soothing white noise for his contemplative mind.
No destination in mind. Just wandering wherever his feet led. Clearing his head meant anywhere, anyone was fine. Still, new paths for fresh vibes sounded best.
Passing the merchant-packed market, paths branched out. Straight ahead lay the fountain square. The right alley led to the adventurer's guild, he recalled. He turned left, uncharted territory.
The inn district teemed with adventurers, easy to spot by their gear. Massive weapons no civilian would carry, slung ostentatiously.
Ragged clothes reeking of hardship or faces etched with fatigue screamed "not locals." He probably looked the same to others.
The path opened into a residential area. Wanderer's Village seemed advanced for this world. Tech here lagged far behind his home, yet progress lingered in the air.
Streetlamps dotted the roads; three- and four-story buildings abounded. Unlike Start Village's dusty trails, everything gleamed with care.
Well-kept upscale homes lined the way, high fences signaling wealthy owners. Unlike the bard-filled market's raucous din, the quiet was dawn-like serenity.
"Heh heh. You there, young man. An adventurer?"
As he pondered chicken-or-egg nonsense, a frail old woman's voice—like a withered branch—interrupted.
It didn't irk him. Chatting with strangers on unfamiliar topics was part of travel's charm.
"Yes."
He turned toward the voice. Amid the posh street sat an old woman at a modest stall, mismatched to the vibe. No typical peddler setup.
Her shop was a purple one-person tent. No wares in sight—just a small table, crude chair, and a crystal ball atop it.
The setup screamed her trade. He'd seen similar back home.
"A fortune teller?"
"Aye. A real one, not like those other frauds."
She tossed out the standard scam line. So clichéd, even a chuckle felt wasted.
Back home, most "seers" were con artists. True foresight was beyond sages—a heavenly gift for the rare few, none of whom he'd met.
No way this stranger read the world's will.
Still, fortunes had a fun pull, even knowing they were fake. Pure entertainment.
"You're not from around here."
She grinned, and Vints paused, weighing her words. Not local. Could just mean not from Wanderer's Village.
Nothing special—adventurers were mostly outsiders. But her follow-up shattered that.
"Haven't seen someone from another world in ages."
Another world.
Spot-on. Curiosity surged. How'd she know? Real precog power, or a hustler's hook?
"How much for a reading?"
"Not bad. Fifty copper."
Odd price. Too steep for fun, too cheap for real intel.
"Heh. That face—bargain, eh?"
Her seasoned eyes read him instantly. Vints stayed silent.
"High prices mean no customers. Basically charity work."
"Fifty copper tells me my future?"
"Limited scope. Can't say where you'll strike gold or flop. Just broad advice: avoid booze, watch the ladies."
Without waiting, she gently took his hand, placing it on the crystal ball.
Her grip was feather-light; he could pull away easily but didn't.
The orb felt like plain glass—cool, hard, ordinary. A pro scammer would've jazzed it up.
"Hmm..."
She hummed gravely. No glow, no hum—just his hand. Yet she peered as if seeing visions.
"Demonic taint. Deeply rooted."
After staring long, she spoke.
"Bad outcome?"
"Never seen a fate this bizarre. You... Demon King's exec?"
Random question, intent unclear.
"No. Why ask?"
"Immense evil clings to your fate. Absurdly strong, purely malevolent."
"Absurdly strong and pure evil?"
Vints ran through his circle. No matches.
"Yes. So potent, I doubt my own eyes. No clue what to advise."
She rambled.
"Stay cautious. Everything."
Vague as fog.
"First time like this. Feels like I scammed you. No charge."
She sighed, deflated.
"Sorry. Thought I'd gift a promising hero something fun, but just empty words."
"You seem no ordinary soul."
"Heh. Just a street seer now. Was a party priestess in my wild youth. Anyway, watch your back. A vast evil hungers for your fate."
Vints nodded. She seemed sincere.
Mighty, pure evil... Someone comes to mind...
A strikingly handsome man flashed by—immensely strong, flawless. Evil? Debatable, but his domineering power rivaled the Demon King's.
He shook it off. Ridiculous.
Mood's killed. Better head back for dinner.
He turned toward the inn. Earlier than planned, but reflection was ruined.
Sharon and Priest should be back from the guild; early dinner it was.
"Hero. Back early."
Only the thief guarded the room. No mage or priestess.
"Where're the other two?"
"Dunno. Not back. Guild run shouldn't take long, but they're late. Probably blowing our hard-earned coin on street food."
Casual dismissal. They did wander off often.
Normally, Vints wouldn't care. But post-fortune, their absence nagged.
Vast evil in his fate. What could it be?
"They went to the guild, right?"
"Yeah. Wanna fetch 'em? Let 'em be—they're splurging."
"Suddenly worried."
"Aww, such a softie. They'd cry happy tears."
Ignoring the thief's teasing, Vints headed out. He had ways to find them.
"Lightning."
Crackle!
A thick spark leaped from his right hand. Lightning power, now well-mastered.
"Polarity Detection."
New skill: track stigma-marked targets. He'd marked his comrades already.
Crackle! Crackle!
Blue sparks danced briefly, pointing a direction. Toward them.
"Probably fine."
He followed, unease gnawing despite reassurances. The sparks veered away from the guild—not the market either. They led to the village outskirts.