Sloth and Dad [3]
"......Already morning?"
I'd kept watch by Lulu's side all through the dawn, and the moment I pushed open the door of our box house, the piercing sunlight made me grimace.
After staring at Hell's red skies for so long, this world's light felt way too intense.
As I slipped out of the alley, I mentally sorted through what I knew about this place. Not that it amounted to much—just fragments from Lulu's memories.
'......War.'
From what I'd gleaned from her recollections, this continent was in the grip of a massive war.
I had no clue who was fighting whom or what the justification was.
To Lulu, scraping by without starving tomorrow had always mattered far more.
But the instant I stepped onto the main street, I froze, scowling hard.
"......War? This?"
The streets buzzed with life.
"Fresh rye bread, hot from the oven! Milled from the finest imperial grains!"
"Hey, friend, that ration silk was top quality this time—got any extra to spare?"
"Haha, my storeroom's overflowing—no worries there."
Merchants bellowed at the top of their lungs, and the passersby's clothes were far too neat for refugees. Not a single gaunt, starving face in sight—instead, plenty of greasy, well-fed types.
'......Need solid intel.'
Asking around felt like too much hassle. Even waiting for answers was a luxury I couldn't afford.
I went with the quickest, surest method. Flicked my gaze to a few humans strolling by and methodically rifled through their memories.
'Refugee settlement under Holy Kingdom oversight...... Massive aid shipments from the Empire and Holy Kingdom every month, portioned out precisely by headcount?'
Confirming the details sent a chill through my chest.
This village was state-managed for war refugees.
They kept ledgers, reported numbers, and got meat, bread, even silk accordingly.
"......Ha?"
A hollow laugh escaped my lips.
It wasn't a shortage. Lulu hadn't been digging through trash because food was scarce.
The warm bread and clean clothes sent for her share had gone straight into the pockets of these healthy bastards strutting around.
While my daughter risked her life on a half-eaten, dirt-caked sandwich, they'd written her off as "dead" or "invisible" and pocketed her rations to fatten themselves up.
Anger overrode sloth. My half-lidded eyes narrowed, glowing with a cold red light.
That's when a middle-aged man caught my eye.
He leaned against the damp alley wall, old hat pulled low. Head down, but his eyes darted ceaselessly from under the brim, gauging the crowd.
"......That one."
I raised my hand quietly and delved into his memories.
Disgusting sludge poured in—stuff I didn't even want to see.
"Rations are thinning out lately. Not enough tribute for the bosses."
"Hey, squeeze harder."
"Those old folks on their last legs, the sick ones? Clean 'em up."
"You scout around."
"Fewer mouths, more for you."
The follow-up memories were even worse. Scenes of his "cleanups" unspooled across my vision like a panorama.
"......Off you go. Living's hell for trash like you anyway?"
A drizzly night. He loaded immobile elders onto a cart like luggage and hauled them to an abandoned house behind the village.
Clamping a gasping old man's mouth with rough hands, kicking him into the corner—the cold thrill of it.
Snatching mute orphan kids by the scruff, dragging them into the dark woods—his excited breaths.
"One name off the list: three loaves, a pound of meat...... Heh heh heh."
My face went stone-cold in an instant.
'......Figures.'
Even in my past life's modern world, worse happened daily. In a medieval dump like this—where fists ruled law and admin was a joke—what did I expect? The weak vanish, the strong take over. Same in Hell or here—nature's way.
But.
"......My daughter's here, though?"
The low mutter slipped out.
World rotting? Nameless elders wiped from lists? None of my business. But if my kid's on that "wipe list," that's a whole different story.
And her survival hinging on some rat like this wielding a pen? Infuriatingly petty.
"Tch."
I flicked my hand lazily, like swatting a fly.
Krunch—!
No time for screams.
The man's massive body crumpled under invisible pressure, compressing into a small marble in seconds.
Plunk.
The red orb hit the ground and rolled to my feet.
I crushed it expressionlessly underfoot.
Splat!
Blood erupted in impossible volume from the tiny thing, soaking the street and creeping toward my shoes.
"Kyaaah! M-murder!"
"What the—! What just—!"
Humans shrieked in horror. Eyes everywhere, chaotic murmurs. ...Annoying.
I scratched my head and snapped my fingers lightly.
Zing—.
An unseen wave swept the square, market, whole village. Their frenzied eyes dulled, losing focus.
'Don't question who I am. Don't wonder what I do.'
My will-embedded Sloth Force drilled into their minds.
'People vanish? Whatever. Blood sprays? Just scenery. Only way you sleep safe tonight.'
Like power flickering back on, they resumed their routines as if nothing happened. A bizarre peace: stepping over blood puddles, chatting about the weather.
I stepped away leisurely, muttering low.
"......Better."
Crooked my finger at the spreading blood.
It evaporated on contact with my power.
I peeled my foot off, muttering again.
"......Stinks."
His soul was already plummeting to Hell's deepest pit—one I'd cracked open.
There, he'd eternally relive the starvation he'd inflicted on his victims, crushed underfoot.
"......Getting Lucian's human hate now."
I murmured, chuckling softly.
Resumed walking.
My gaze landed on a woman in the square's center, beaming as she played with kids.
Radiant smile, kneeling to their level, holding hands. Passersby cooed, "An angel descended!"
"......Hmm."
I propped my chin, half-lidded eyes studying her.
First time peeking into a memory just to learn something.
How to handle kids? Fake that smile? Needed a rough idea to try with Lulu.
But—
The moment I tapped her mind, I wanted to gouge out my eyes.
"Gonna die soon anyway? Waste feeding you. More productive in me."
Snatching an elder refugee's ration bag without mercy.
Crushing his frail, clutching hand under her heel as he wheezed for breath.
Ah, gross. Seriously......
Sneering at his desperate eyes, wolfing bread in the corner with a cynical smirk.
Stepping back out, wiping crumbs, practicing the world's kindest smile.
Stroking kids' heads while inwardly retching, 'When will these vermin drop dead?'—shameless hypocrisy.
Stealing even the kids' shares to stuff herself.
The fragments clung like vile slime to my consciousness.
"......No need to learn from vermin."
Mood soured.
Exploiting kids like Lulu for clout, then severing their lifelines behind their backs.
Not human, not livestock. Just trash to clear.
I twisted my lip and snapped my fingers.
Thud—.
No screams, no tears allowed.
Her body—mid-reach for a kid's hand, smiling—dissolved into air like wet paper in water.
Only a thick, nauseating blood reek lingered where she'd stood.
Onlookers blinked in confusion, oblivious.
I brushed off the fishy stench indifferently and turned away.
Shaking off the foul mood, I walked on—then paused at the aroma of fresh bread.
'......Oh, right.'
Forgot amid the mess. Lulu'd wake soon, and our upgraded box house had zilch edible.
Wasted time on garbage memories, nearly missed the important stuff.
Figured I'd grab stuff for her mouth when she opens it. Followed the scent to a food stall: neat stacks of hot bread, fresh fruit, dried meats.
'......Where's the refugee vibe?'
Pretending to browse, I reflexively scanned the merchant's memories.
First up: useful world info.
'......At war with the demon race?'
Demon race. Paused at the unfamiliar term in the fragments.
'Hell got demon souls? Nah, never heard.'
Doze off in Hell, and sometimes Bael, Satan, Mamon would crash at my place, sipping tea, yapping. I'd block my ears, but they'd ramble about human souls' frailty, elves', beastkin' traits.
Never a peep about "demon race" souls from those chatterboxes.
'Recent emergence? Or outsiders beyond Hell's jurisdiction.'
Digging deeper, a recent memory filled my view: Lulu.
"Ah, yes! Regular customer—bonus for you! Haha!"
Grinning wide, packing bread for a buyer.
He hadn't noticed one drop in the scuffle.
That's when starving Lulu, staggering by, spotted it.
Hesitated, then carefully picked up the dirtied loaf.
Not for her mouth. She extended her tiny arm to return it.
"Th-this... Uncle... bread... dropp-ed..."
But before she finished—
His jolly face twisted viciously, slapping her cheek.
Smack—!
Head-snapping force. So hard, her frail body tumbled far away.
The sting vibrated through his palm into the memory, right to me.
"Filthy beggar touching my stuff! Stealing, huh?"
"N-nooo... Lulu just... pick up-ed......"
Before groaning Lulu could respond, he stormed over, yanked her hair.
Three, four more slaps on her helpless face, then flung her into the muck.
"Touched by dirty hands—can't sell it now. Tch, spit!"
Chucked the soiled bread at her crumpled face, dusted his stall like nothing.
Memory cut off.
Next: Lulu huddled in the corner, tiny hands cradling her swollen cheek, sobbing silently.
"......Hah."
A quiet sigh escaped. Not rage—too serene. Not killing intent—too heavy a silence.
Zing—.
Snap. Market din vanished. Dust hung frozen, people mannequin-still.
In the time-stopped hush, I stared into the merchant's eyes. Slowly lifted the "whatever" suggestion.
His glazed pupils regained life, focus.
"Wh......? Why's it so quiet all of a sud—"
Glancing around in panic, his gaze hit me. The bread-browsing customer. But now: something abyss-eyed under human skin.
"H-hiiik......!"
Terror-wide eyes—the only one moving in the eerie quiet.
"Wh-what! Why's everyone—! Hey! Snap out of it!"
Flailing, paling as reality sank in.
I stepped toward him slowly.
Thud. Thud.
My footsteps shattered the silence like a death knell.
He screamed, fleeing—bounced off an invisible wall.
Not a wall.
Transparent cage locked around him.
"Wh-what!! Why!! Wh-who are you! Stay back!"
Pounding fists bloody on the unseen barrier.
I gazed down at his pathetic thrashing.
Sudden wave of exhaustion crashed over me.
Resolved to hustle for Lulu, but dealing with this shivering worm clashed with my core sloth.
Temptation screamed to sleep now.
But I crushed it. Her swollen cheek's memory anchored me.
"......Gonna put real effort into you."
Raised my hand slowly.
Hovered it, plotting how to carve him apart piece by piece.
"Hmm...... Legs first."
Pointed fingertip at his toes.
Riiip—!
Shoes shredded like paper.
Then flesh tearing, bones splintering.
"Gaaahhh!!"
Unbearable agony—merchant convulsed, howling.
Eyes rolling back, shock-death imminent.
"Oops. Dies too quick."
Placed hand on his head.
Cold red Sloth Force invaded his brain mercilessly.
'No dying. No fainting. No madness. Senses thousands times sharper.'
Life snapped back to his eyes.
Eternal torment began—no death's mercy.
Lowered hand, raised it veeeery slowly.
Delayed pain from toes to calves to thighs.
Bone-flesh separation hammered his brain real-time.
"Too quick's no fun. Right?"
I smiled lazily at his blood-tear face.
Throat too wrecked for screams, he gurgled, head thrashing wildly—his only movable part.
Finally, hand reached neck, face. Cage held a boneless, flesh-stripped thing barely breathing.
"Hmm...... Good enough."
Clenched fist satisfied.
Cage shrank to a tiny box.
Pocketed the grotesque cube, tossed into Hell's black rift casually.
Click—.
Snap again.
Noise erupted, mannequins walked.
Stall spot: empty. Passersby just shrugged, "Huh? Where's the shop?"
Bread bag in hand, I melted into the crowd like nothing happened.
Back at the box house, tossed the bag on the table.
Tidal fatigue crushed me.
For Lulu or not, today was my busiest in eons.
Dragged my near-collapsing body beside sleeping Lulu, lay down slowly.
Her tiny warmth melted the twisted irritation from those trash memories.
Hugged her gently, exhaled low.
"Hoo...... Did way too much today. Right?"
As if answering, sleeping Lulu burrowed closer, mumbling.
That little shift erased my slaughter-lust.
Chuckle-sigh, stroked her soft hair slowly.
"Now Daddy's here...... No more hurt."
Pledge to who-knows-who done, I closed my eyes.
On this cozier-than-Hell-home bed, a faint, lazy smile curved my lips.
"......My turn to sleep."
Warm noon sun filtered through box cracks, dusting their hair.
Outside bustled the market, but inside, only their steady breaths echoed in quiet.