Chapter 26
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 25
Chapter Title: Shopping
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Bang!
The door flew open roughly, and Sharl burst in along with a gust of cold wind.
Behind her, Kain followed, his face pale and fidgeting anxiously.
But the scene inside the room was the complete opposite of what they'd expected—
especially Kain's worries.
"......?"
On the bed, Leon was lying at a leisurely angle, the picture of comfort,
chewing on some jerky with loud crunches.
"Ugh, ever heard of knocking?"
Leon brushed the crumbs from his mouth and waved cheekily.
Sharl's brow twitched.
"......You."
"Ah, should I get up, milady?"
"I heard you were hurt. Bad enough that the bleeding wouldn't stop..."
Leon widened his eyes in surprise.
Then he shot Kain an aggrieved look and let out a snicker.
"Ah... what, all this fuss."
"What?"
"It's not that bad. Just a scrape."
Leon threw off the blanket covering him and rolled up his pant leg.
His calf was wrapped tightly in bandages, with a faint red stain of blood seeping through.
"See? Just a little thing. A bit of spit and it'll heal right up."
"......"
"Looks like our old man... er, Sir Kain's getting on in years,
and his emotions are running a bit high these days."
Leon cackled and popped another piece of jerky into his mouth.
"Cut him some slack, miss. They say the heart softens with age."
".....Hah, this punk..."
Kain's face flushed beet red from where he stood behind her.
Even as relief washed over him at the shameless act, he couldn't help his blood pressure spiking.
Sharl eyed the blood on the bandage and Leon's perfectly fine (or so it seemed) complexion in turn.
Sure enough, he didn't look critically ill as reported.
"Anyway."
Sharl's gaze settled on the top of Leon's head.
"What's with that hair?"
"Oh, this?"
Leon fiddled with his jet-black locks and grinned.
"Suits me, right? Tried spicing things up a bit."
"......Tacky. Wash it out now."
"Aw, what a waste of dye. Gonna let it sit for a week, no shampoo."
At Leon's brazen reply, Sharl made a face like she couldn't believe it.
"Ha."
She let out a short, exasperated sigh.
"Kain."
"Y-Yes? Milady."
"Report properly from now on. Don't make me waste my time."
"Ah... I'll correct that."
Kain bit his lip in injustice but had no choice but to bow his head.
"And you."
Sharl's eyes snapped back to Leon.
"You have two days. Be fully healed by then."
"Can't you give me one more day? Not whining, but walking's a real pain."
"......Fine, three days."
She glared daggers at him,
"Don't wander around doing stupid shit. Just rest.
If you're still limping around like an eyesore after that, I'll break the other leg."
With that grim warning, she turned on her heel and left without a backward glance.
"Take care~"
Kain, about to follow, paused at the door and shot Leon a glare.
Killing intent poured from his eyes.
"......We'll settle this later."
Thud.
I kept up the pretense of chewing jerky until the door closed and the footsteps faded completely.
Once silence finally fell,
"......Phew."
I spat out the jerky with a ptui and flopped back onto the bed.
"That was close, for real."
My back was slick with cold sweat.
I'd been back less than ten minutes.
No sooner had I bandaged up and lain down than the door burst open.
If I'd been even a little later?
Sharl would've flipped at the empty bed.
And my neck would've been the first to go under her hands, no doubt.
"Got lucky."
I glared at the ceiling, enduring the throbbing pain in my calf.
It wasn't just Sharl, though.
There was another real reason I'd turned back.
The scorpion gang's hideout, based on the coordinates that snake bastard spilled.
Their base was a converted slaughterhouse in the deepest part of the slums.
The moment I laid eyes on it, I couldn't believe what I was seeing.
'......Crazy. Is this a gang den? That's a fortress.'
Iron spikes lined the high walls,
and just the patrols at the entrance and around the building numbered over twenty, easy.
Who knew how many more lurked inside.
Nothing like that rundown warehouse.
If the snakes were a corner store, the scorpions were a damn mega-mart.
"Haa......"
A deep sigh escaped me.
That kind of fortress, those numbers.
Charging in solo would be suicide.
No invisibility cloak from some cosmic Harry Potter knockoff.
One step in, and I'd be a pincushion, minced meat.
'Can't call for backup either.'
Not Kaintrea troops, not even old man Kain.
It was all on me, this ratty little body.
"......Not quite."
I fiddled with the heavy pouch in my bosom.
The fat stack of gold coins I'd looted from the snake's safe.
'Not just this body of mine.'
Money was power, manpower.
No friends to call for the wedding? Buy some.
"Mercenaries, huh......"
I smacked my lips.
Plenty of guys who'd swing a sword for coin.
The issue was quality.
Not the that kind of tight quality.
Most scum I'd seen around here were booze-soaked drunks,
thugs who only picked on the weak,
or total noobs who'd never swung a blade right.
Mob extras like that gonna help?
Doubtful.
They'd piss themselves and bolt at the door,
or get one-punched by that muscle pig from the warehouse.
But,
"Better than nothing."
Meat shields. Cannon fodder to draw eyes.
If they pulled that off, I'd count my blessings.
"Hoo......"
I dragged myself up from the bed.
My aching leg and screaming body begged for mercy, but I ignored them.
Three days. Precious grace period I'd whined out of her.
I knew this scene's underbelly best, anyway.
Money draws flies,
and sifting the usable ones was my job.
"Time to go shopping."
Off to buy some cheap lives.
Truth be told,
for proper hires, the mercenary guild in the commercial district was the way.
Guys there wore good armor, hunted beasts or did escorts as baseline,
and real heavies got drafted for noble squabbles over land or interests—
mini-wars, basically.
But that was pie in the sky for me.
[Please present your identification.]
[What's the request? What's your affiliation?]
They'd hit me with that before I crossed the threshold.
No papers, no nameless drifter could spill the job details.
Lucky if they didn't call the guards on the spot.
So in the end,
"Damn, slums again."
The "Corpse Nest," as the locals called it—tucked under Sector 11.
No guild master, no clerks here.
Just bottom-feeders hoping for a blind mark with cash, hunkered in the trash heap.
"......Ha."
Descending the stairs and scanning the place, a sigh burst out.
The underground hall reeked of moldy damp and sweat.
Dozens of men sprawled on the floor or slouched against walls, yapping nonsense.
"Hey, new girl showed up in Sector 3."
"Bullshit, with no money?"
"Win this hand, and I'm going. All in, double up!"
Hollow eyes, ragged clothes.
Lucky if they had a rusty sword; no real armor in sight.
Armed bums, the lot.
But what could I do?
Not in a position to be picky.
I straightened my clothes and stepped into the stinking mess.
Then hopped onto a wooden crate piled with barrels and junk in the hall's center.
"Attention."
My voice cut through the noisy hall.
Some glanced over, smirked at my getup, and laughed.
"What's with the masked freak?"
"Black hair? Foreign trash?"
"Hey, kid. Go suck mommy's tit some more first, huh!?"
Sucked more tits than you could dream of.
Not mommy's, sure, but still.
Laughter and jeers erupted everywhere.
Black hair, black mask, small build—
to them, just some chuuni kid's bravado.
Hm, yeah, taller would've helped.
"Get down before I snap your ankle."
A rough-looking brute in the corner mimed hurling his bottle.
I smirked.
Yeah, actions speak louder.
Ping—
A golden gleam shot from my fingertip into the air.
It flashed under the dim candlelight.
In that instant, every eye in the hall tracked its arc.
The bottle-thrower, the card-shufflers, even the drooling sleepers.
Clink.
I snatched the falling gold coin and held it up on my palm.
"Hiring for a job."
Silence. So quiet you could hear throats gulping.
"One gold upfront."
"......!!"
"Two more if you come back alive."
Three gold total.
A king's ransom here—enough to buy a man's life five, six times over.
Their eyes changed in a heartbeat.
Contempt and mockery vanished,
replaced by slimy, filthy greed.
"Me! Pick me!"
"Outta the way! I'm first!"
Rumble. Like zombies, they swarmed me in seconds.
Shoving, cursing, clamoring at my feet.
"Whoa, line up. Not taking all of you."
I waved them off, looking down.
Pigs, skeletons, alkies...
One-armed cripples, eye-rotted geezers... all trash-tier.
No x-ray vision to spot hidden masters or legendary swords here.
To me, just breathing meat shields.
Lucky ones block an arrow or two,
unlucky get sliced in one swing. Disposables.
So lower expectations.
No hope, no disappointment.
Just the bare minimum...
"Simple test. One-on-one. Land a hit on me."
Murmurs halted.
"Grazed clothes, tugged hair—whatever.
Touch me anywhere, you pass."
I declared flatly.
"Only passers get hired."
The hall stirred the moment I finished.
After a beat of silence came,
"......Cocky bastard."
"Thinks he's hot shit?"
Viscous malice oozed.
"What if we kill you?"
Someone spat from the shadowy corner.
"If I die mid-fight, who pays?"
I grinned,
untying the heavy gold pouch from my belt.
Jingle—jingle—
The thick metallic clink shattered the quiet.
Eyes followed the pouch left, right.
"Don't worry. If I die."
I dangled it right in their faces.
Loosened the mouth, grabbed a fistful of coins to flash.
"This whole thing's yours."
"......!!"
"Killer takes all, or split it nice—up to you."
I retied it to my belt, taunting with a wag.
"If you trash can manage it."
No sooner said than,
"You fucking prick!!"
The frontmost brute bellowed,
gripping a rusty crowbar and lunging.
Alright, let's see.
Fish something recyclable out of this garbage.
Hoping hard.