Kill a Man for Me

The old broker's hand trembled faintly as he spoke.

"Kill a man for me."

A blank check stamped with the seal of the Imperial Bank poked out from the strings of the pouch he'd set down.

My brow furrowed slightly as I checked the amount.

"...That's a hefty sum."

"Black Jack. I thought it was fitting for your reputation."

The old man swallowed dryly.

The legendary figure of the back alleys. The faceless assassin. The Grim Reaper with an Eyepatch.

Those were the grandiose nicknames people used for me.

The rumors were endless, but no one knew my real name or my true face. I was simply known as a cleaner who reliably disposed of those who weren't worth keeping alive.

"Who's the target?"

"Count Edward, the master of Karman Castle."

The old man's voice dropped lower.

"He's no ordinary noble. Publicly, he's known as a wealthy philanthropist, but behind the scenes, he's been researching forbidden black magic."

He swallowed again and pulled out a single sheet of fine paper from his coat, placing it on the table.

On the front, my alias Black Jack was stamped clearly in red ink.

"...A designated request, huh."

"That's right. The client insisted that you be the one to take this job. Said you're the only one in this business who doesn't know the meaning of the word failure."

A mix of awe and fear flickered in the old man's eyes.

It was a silent gesture of complete trust in my abilities.

"And?"

I jerked my chin, urging him to continue.

"The security will be tight. He's... more suspicious and dangerous than ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠you might think."

The broker finished speaking and fidgeted with his fingers, clearly anxious.

He glanced at me as if trying to read my expression from behind the eyepatch, then finally asked with resolve.

"...Will you take it? Given who the target is, I won't hold it against you if you refuse."

Any ordinary cleaner might have recoiled at the mention of a noble who dabbled in black magic and backed out.

But my gaze remained fixed on the blank check the old man had offered.

There was only one truth I'd learned after rolling around in this underworld: money doesn't lie.

"I'll do it."

I grabbed the pouch and stood up.

I heard the old man let out a sigh of relief behind me.

It was a night lit by a bright, full moon.

The security at Karman Castle was indeed as tight as the old man had warned.

Patrols carrying torches moved constantly along the high castle walls.

Elite knights stood at the entrance with grim expressions, hands on their sword hilts, watching every direction.

It was an ironclad defense that allowed not even the slightest gap.

But none of it posed any obstacle to me.

"Hoo."

I took a light step and wrapped my body in magic power.

I slowed my breathing and reduced my heartbeat to the extreme. Shadows seeped over me as if embracing my form.

Soon, my presence melted completely into the air.

I slipped silently ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠into the blind spot of the nearest guard.

"H-hey! What was that sou—urk?!"

The question never finished. My fingers had already crushed his windpipe.

The man beside him widened his eyes and fumbled for his weapon.

"Intru—! Gack!"

Even that short scream scattered into the air.

I shoved the limp bodies into the darkness, then approached the massive door of the study.

I channeled magic into the lock and gave it a light twist. The heavy door slid open without so much as a whisper.

A cold chill filled the room.

Count Edward stood behind his desk as if he'd been waiting for me.

He was a greasy-faced old man wearing a cruel smile.

"Well now, quite a big rat has slipped in."

When the count extended his hand, dark energy erupted from his fingertips.

The temperature in the room plummeted in an instant.

A bone-chilling cold pierced my joints, as if I were standing in the middle of winter instead of midsummer.

Black magic, huh.

There was no mistaking that unpleasant, sticky wave of power.

The count sneered with a mocking laugh.

"No matter how much you scamper around in the back alleys, you're still just a mere human. Kneel before the greatness of magic, you little rat."

The energy of black magic filled the room.

Goooooo—

With an eerie wind, black vengeful spirits burst forth from all directions and charged at me.

Any ordinary human would have gone weak in the knees.

But I simply adjusted my grip on my sword and swung the blade without hesitation at the oncoming spirits.

Clang!

The heavy sword energy sliced through the air, mercilessly striking down the dark shapes.

With dull thuds, the spirits scattered in every direction.

The count burst into maniacal laughter at the sight.

"Hahaha! Struggle all you want! In the end, you'll only become fuel for my power!"

Cackling wildly, the count pulled out an old, leather-bound book from his coat.

His fingers flipped through the pages roughly before stopping on one.

The black energy in the room surged violently toward his fingertips.

"Haha, hahahat!!!"

Arrogance gleamed in the count's eyes, as if victory were already his.

"The price for daring to set foot in my castle...!"

Just as the count was about to unleash whatever he had prepared—

Swish.

A faint sound sliced through the air.

The count's eyes widened. The action he was about to take would never be completed.

My dagger had already pierced straight through his throat.

"Gack... what...?"

The count clutched his neck and collapsed to the floor. The dark energy rising from his fingertips scattered like a mirage.

"Too slow."

I clicked my tongue as I looked down coldly at the fallen count. Who in their right mind waits for their enemy in a real fight?

In my book, there was no such virtue as showing mercy or waiting for an opponent to use their ultimate move.

I wiped the bloodied dagger roughly on the count's expensive silk clothes.

What a boring ending.

No matter how great a black mage one might be, once their heart stops and their neck is severed, they die just like anyone else.

I knelt on one knee in front of the count's corpse.

I pulled out a small knife and neatly sliced off his right ear. It was solid proof that the request had been completed.

I slipped the ear into my pouch and stood up.

Now I just need to head back and collect the money. That's it.

Thinking of my soon-to-be much heavier wallet, I walked lightly toward the study door.

Yes, that's what I had intended to do.

But the moment I tried to leave the room, I noticed the bookshelf behind the desk trembling slightly.

"Hm?"

It seemed that with the count's death, the magic binding the hidden space had broken.

Is there something else back there?

The strange intuition I'd honed in this line of work held me back.

If there was a hidden treasure vault, that would be a huge bonus. If not, I could just leave.

I approached the bookshelf cautiously and placed my hand on it.

Creeeak...

When I pushed the shelf aside, a dark staircase leading underground appeared.

Following the stench of blood and musty mold, I descended until I saw a prison cell blocked off on all sides by iron bars in a corner of the basement.

Someone was huddled inside.

"..."

As if sensing a presence, the crouched figure slowly lifted their head.

I caught my breath for a moment.

It was a young girl.

Even though she sat on the filthy floor of the iron cage, she shone like a jewel.

Her long, curly hair the color of the night sky flowed past her shoulders, and her skin was so pale it looked almost translucent.

But it wasn't her appearance that stole my gaze.

"..."

The girl's eyes, revealed in the darkness.

They sparkled with an otherworldly light even in the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠gloom—brilliant sapphire eyes that looked as if they had been meticulously carved from the gem itself.

A unique constitution that manifested in only one person per century.

Blue-Gold Eyes.

A powerful shock, like static electricity, flashed through my mind.

I knew those eyes. No—I knew the future of the one who possessed them.

This child... was Estelle. The final boss and villainess from the romance fantasy novel.

How the Saintess is Loved, or Saintess Method for short.

According to the novel's setting, she would become obsessed with the female protagonist—the saintess—and drive the empire to ruin.

In the end, she was destined to be executed by the male lead.

"Ha..."

A dry laugh escaped me.

Of all people, it had to be this kid.

In typical stories, protagonists who get possessed usually start off as hidden geniuses from ducal families or receive some overpowered blessing from the gods, right?

But the so-called god had been brutally indifferent to me.

To survive, I'd rummaged through trash and taken up the sword. With no backing whatsoever, there was only one path I could choose: cleaner of the back alleys.

I'd been dropped into the back alleys of this unfamiliar world with nothing but my bare body—no connections, not a single coin.

I held my breath during the day and bled at night.

Only after building up my reputation bit by bit had I finally risen to the position of the legendary mercenary known as Black Jack.

I always wore an eyepatch to hide my face, which only fueled the endless rumors.

The fact that I remembered the setting of that romance fantasy novel my little sister used to ramble on about was purely thanks to my survival instincts.

I needed to understand the world to stay alive. But until now, I'd thought this world had nothing to do with me.

After all, the genre my sister had mentioned was romance fantasy.

A happy healing story where the protagonist just gets pampered and loved.

It was a million light-years away from my hellish life as a mercenary, where blood and flesh flew everywhere.

And yet, the final boss villainess from that novel was right in front of me.

The child—Estelle—looked up at me with eyes full of terror. She seemed to have instinctively realized I was the assassin who had killed the count.

"Ah..."

Her pale lips trembled.

But her gaze was strangely calm for her age.

With the demeanor of someone who had already given up on life, she squeezed her eyes shut and murmured in a voice as small as a mosquito's.

"If... if you're going to kill me... please make it painless."

Though the words were filled with resignation, tears she could no longer hold back welled up between her long, quivering lashes and trickled down her cheeks.

No matter how composed she tried to act in the face of death, she was still just a frail little girl.

The moment I met those tearful eyes, a sliver of conscience stabbed at me.

What should I do with this child now?

If I left her here, she'd either be killed by the count's remaining forces or become twisted into a monster just like in the original story. But what was an assassin like me supposed to do with a kid like her?

My head grew tangled as I started to sink into thought.

Thud. Thud.

Rough footsteps echoed from the top of the underground stairs.

They must have heard the alarm the count sent out before dying and come rushing in—the remaining knights and guards of the castle.

There were quite a few of them. If I lingered here, I'd be surrounded.

There was no time to think deeply.

"Tsk."

I clicked my tongue and sliced through the iron cage's lock with a single swing.

With a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠clank, the door opened.

Without hesitation, I stepped inside and lifted the huddled girl into my arms with one hand.

Her body was as light as a feather.

"Eek?!"

The child let out a small startled cry, but I paid it no mind.

"Stay still. If you want to live."

I murmured quietly, then held her firmly and broke into a full sprint.