Crazy, I Remembered!
"Crazy, I remembered!" The curse slipped out in my head as the memory sharpened into focus. The field boss, Red-Handed Brenda. Leader of the bandit group near the royal capital—the first field boss players typically encountered. Unlike regular mobs, she spawned at random while roaming the fields around the capital. Plenty of players had met her before they were ready, only to have their throats slit in an instant.
And here I was, with zero growth and not even a weapon, running straight into her. Talk about rotten luck.
"Ugh… grk…"
A mercenary groaned in pain and collapsed inside the carriage. Time seemed to freeze. The sudden ambush had halved our already meager forces. My face burned from the shock, yet my mind stayed oddly calm. It was survival instinct, the body's desperate need to protect itself—like squeezing your eyes shut and curling up when a fist flies at your face.
I hurled myself toward the open side of the carriage. Dust clouded my vision, and gritty sand scraped inside my sleeves. They say a person's true nature shows in the direst moments.
"Mister! Run!"
Before I even steadied myself, I shouted toward the front of the carriage.
"Ah, aah!"
Esmar finally snapped out of it and started moving. The only ones who could fight were the two mercenaries. Right now, survival mattered more than cargo. While Brenda tangled with the guards inside, Esmar frantically cut the traces connecting the horses to the carriage.
"Where do you think you're going?!"
A dagger flew from inside the carriage and buried itself in a horse's rump. The startled animal screamed and bolted, tearing free of the wagon.
"Kuh, hahk…!"
At the same time, a dying mercenary's ragged breaths came from beneath the canvas cover. Realizing something was wrong, Esmar jumped down and sprinted toward me. I ran toward the capital as fast as my legs would carry me, lungs burning, heart hammering, knees ready to give out. The only proof I wasn't alone was the frantic footsteps pounding behind me.
But that didn't last.
"Aagh!"
A short scream and the sound of someone hitting the dirt made me stop. Panting, I looked back. Esmar lay sprawled on the ground with a dagger lodged in his thigh. My mind, which had been racing during the ambush, went completely blank. I knew I had to keep running, yet my legs refused to move. My head ordered me to stay still.
While I stood frozen, something heavy slammed into my stomach.
"Ugh…!"
"Kuh… what are you doing?! Run!"
Esmar's voice boomed like thunder, carrying the weight of a money pouch that struck me square in the gut. The sheer volume jolted me back to my senses. My trembling legs started moving again. Even as the sound of a final breath reached my ears, I kept my eyes fixed forward and ran. Every so often I heard the whistle of blades embedding themselves in the ground behind me. I veered slightly; a dagger thudded into the spot where I'd just been standing.
I snatched up the weapon as I passed, then flung it backward without looking.
"Aagh!"
A woman's sharp cry rang out. Brenda, her clothes stained with blood, clutched her face and dropped to her knees. A stroke of unbelievable luck.
Then something slammed into my back.
"Ah, ugh."
A burning sensation spread through my body like hot electricity. Every heartbeat sent fresh waves of pain through the wound.
"You little brat! I'll kill you!"
I ignored the furious voice behind me and kept running. Gritting my teeth, I yanked the shallowly embedded dagger free and pushed onward. The capital never seemed to get any closer. The distance that had felt short by carriage now stretched endlessly; I doubted I'd reach the gates before sunset. Blood from my wound trickled into the hollows of my body, making me shudder.
When I finally reached the end of the line at the capital's entrance, a wave of cold relief washed over me and I collapsed sideways.
"Wh-what? Hey! Over here…"
Strange voices swirled around my fading consciousness. My vision had already gone black, yet the only thought repeating in my mind was: I'm alive.
Some time later, I opened my bleary eyes to a white ceiling.
A healing house…
The place that restored health and mana while cleansing all status ailments. Pale moonlight spilled through the window and covered my body. I pushed myself up on the edge of the bed—and heard a heavy clink beside the pillow.
The money pouch.
I clutched it with both hands as if it were treasure. Everything that had happened yesterday was real. Everyone knew the truth: in this fantasy world, life was merciless to anyone who wasn't the protagonist. Just yesterday, two mercenaries and a merchant had vanished. No one cared. It was just another common occurrence.
So I had to get used to it. Sudden partings like this should mean nothing… but apparently I wasn't mentally strong enough for that.
…Damn it.
I cursed under my breath and covered my eyes with my forearm, still hugging the pouch to my chest. Out of the four of us, only I had lived to see the morning.
Early the next day, a healer came to check on me.
"I took a bit out of the pouch for the treatment fee. That's all right, isn't it?"
"…Yes."
I nodded. The wound on my back had been healed, though a scar would remain. After finishing her explanation, the healer asked gently,
"Could you tell me what happened?"
My lips parted slowly. I wanted someone—anyone—to listen. I wanted to pour out this sick feeling in my chest. So I told her everything without holding back: the deaths of the mercenaries and the merchant. Tragic, yet ordinary stories in this world.
"I see…"
The healer lowered her head in quiet sympathy. The other healers who overheard looked equally somber. Apparently I'd already become something of a celebrity among the staff—a boy who staggered into the checkpoint line covered in blood, clutching a heavy money pouch, then collapsed from exhaustion. They'd speculated wildly about my story. None of them could have imagined the dark truth behind it.
I touched the scar on my back and kept my head bowed in silence. With the money I had, I could return to the village anytime.
"So, what will you do now…?"
What will I do…?
Going back felt wrong. Red-Handed Brenda had given me the worst day of my life. I wanted to make her suffer just as badly, as soon as possible. But right now I lacked the strength or ability to hunt monsters. All I had left was the pouch Esmar had thrown to me.
Money. With money, almost anything was possible. Since it had belonged to the materialistic Esmar, I'd use it to give Brenda the worst days of her life.
Right after leaving the healing house, I headed to the capital's request office—the place where mercenaries worked and accepted jobs. I dumped most of the gold coins from the pouch onto the counter.
"Th-that's fifteen gold coins…?!"
The receptionist stared in shock. It was an enormous sum for a single request. Every mercenary in the hall turned to look at the glittering pile. One gold coin could feed someone in the capital for half a year. Fifteen times that amount was impossible to ignore.
"So… what kind of request would you like to post?"
At that price, people might expect a quest for ancient ruins or a dragon's heart. Instead, my answer shattered every expectation.
"Capture one bandit. Red hair, red eyes, female. Name is Brenda."
"…Excuse me?"
It was a lure no mercenary could resist, regardless of rank.
