Ibaiyo Village - 2
For a moment, I considered wiping Ibaiyo Village off the map entirely. But I held back. It wasn't the right time to leave traces of my actions, and it wouldn't solve the root problem anyway.
If the village vanished, that young couple would have to flee somewhere else. Would there really be no NTR villains in their new home? My answer was a resounding no. At least within the Empire, no matter where they went, there would always be some bastard eyeing another man's woman.
And I can't just kill innocents along with the trash.
Burning down a house to get rid of the garbage inside. I decided to come up with another way.
The standard approach would be to crush them with overwhelming force and preach some moral lesson. But if they were the type to listen, they'd have reformed long ago. More than that, I didn't care for lecturing. It left me with zero satisfaction.
After preying on so many innocent women, I can't just let them off with a slap on the wrist.
Before my possession, I'd seethe every time I heard about some heinous criminal getting a light sentence for whatever reason. I'd wished for private retribution countless times in a society where it was impossible. So, letting them off with a mere scolding wasn't in my dictionary.
"Alvin? Where are you going?"
"Just out for a quick walk."
"Dinner's almost ready."
"Won't take long. Go ahead and eat without me if you want."
"I'll wait, so come back before the soup gets cold!"
I nodded and stepped outside. The rural village basked in a sunset beyond the hills, the fresh air and orange scenery breathtakingly beautiful. The problem was how this peaceful place filled with men's vile lusts once night fell.
I need someone to put an end to this yo bai culture in my stead.
Conveniently, I had the perfect candidate in mind. Following the horse hoofprints in the dirt led me to a house with smoke curling from the chimney. A familiar horse munched hay in the nearby stable.
"Anyone home?"
"Who is it?"
Knock knock! The door cracked open, revealing a familiar face. I waved at the Coachman, who stared back with a stony expression.
"Here about tomorrow's schedule?"
"What if it's something else?"
"I have no interest in chatting about anything but business. Please leave."
As the door started to close, a sharp woman's voice rang out from inside.
"Dad! You can't turn away a guest like that!"
"...Dalia."
"Come on in!"
The woman flung the door wide open in welcome. Unlike her gaunt father, she brimmed with vitality, strikingly pretty. She gestured me inside, and the Coachman shook his head, turning away. He couldn't stand up to his daughter's spirit.
"Thanks for the warm welcome. If you don't mind, I'll come in."
"Please, make yourself at home!"
No fancy parlor in this humble home. We sat across from each other at the dining table, and Dalia brought tea and fruit. I bowed in thanks, and she smiled with her eyes before slipping away discreetly, not wanting to interrupt our talk with her father.
"Your daughter's sharp as a tack."
"You're not here to talk about that, are you? Get to the point."
"Fair enough."
His tone was prickly; he clearly didn't like me. He'd only let me in for his daughter's sake, drawing a firm line. I wasn't offended. I was an uninvited guest who'd shown up out of the blue, after all.
If anything, it was perfect. No need to beat around the bush if his opinion of me couldn't sink lower.
"Any regrets weighing on you right now?"
"If you're just going to spout nonsense..."
"You know damn well this isn't nonsense."
For a split second, the Coachman bit his lip. But he quickly schooled his expression, hiding his emotions. A tough nut to crack.
"We have nothing to discuss. Leave."
"No wife around? Doesn't seem like she's out."
"I told you to leave!"
"Your daughter's a real beauty. No wonder the village men have their eyes on her."
"I'll die before I hand Dalia over to those bastards!"
He slammed his fists on the table, his reaction explosive. No need to deduce what had struck a nerve.
Wife and daughter. The only words that drew a response from this emotionally dried-up man. There was trouble in his family history, and it was undoubtedly what had turned him into a walking corpse.
"That must be your deepest wish. One you'd pursue even if it wrecked other families."
"Urk!"
"Never regretted it, not even once? You think it's fine to keep living like this?"
"..."
"Tell me what's eating at your heart, and I'll give you a chance. To right your wrongs and protect your daughter."
The moment we'd arrived in the village, the Coachman had gripped the reins tight and bolted from his seat. I'd thought he had urgent business, but no. He lacked the face to meet ours after dumping us into that pack of beasts, wracked with guilt.
"...You?"
"I won't ask a stranger to trust me blindly. Instead, ask your own conscience. Do you really think it's okay to keep living like this?"
It was the key question. If he clammed up to the end, I'd have to abandon him. Ignoring his own faults and standing by made him no better than the NTR scum.
"...I regret it."
"Regret what?"
"Not helping my beloved wife. Sacrificing others to protect my daughter. And failing to be a proper husband and father!"
For the first time, the Coachman bared his honest feelings. And he told me everything about his past.
He'd come to Ibaiyo Village with his wife by chance. For the first week after settling, the couple lived harmoniously. But the village's disgusting custom ruined everything.
"Every time I left for work, my wife's face grew darker. At first, I thought she just couldn't adjust to village life, but..."
One night, the Coachman awoke to a noise. As he turned to cover his sleeping wife's ears, he saw it: several men surrounding her, gang-raping her. Her desperate cries, begging him for help as she searched for him.
"I tried to help at first. But I couldn't properly fight back against the village men. They beat me down, subjected me to one-sided violence, beatings, and endless torture until I lost the will to resist. And in the end..."
"You gave up on your wife."
"Yes. I turned my back on the woman I loved because I couldn't bear more pain. When she was the one suffering most...!"
"What happened then?"
"A year later, she ended her pain, leaving one child behind."
Suicide. The child she'd left wasn't the couple's—by timeline, it was a bastard from her and another man. That explained why Dalia didn't resemble the Coachman.
"You raised her like your own, even knowing she wasn't your blood."
"She's not mine, but she's my beloved wife's daughter."
He'd known she was a cuckoo's child yet loved her as his own. Pity and admiration mixed as I let out a deep sigh. I truly felt sorry for him. But his tragedy wasn't over.
"Even after my wife died, the villagers kept coming, demanding I drive the cart to bring other couples. I tried to refuse, but they threatened to sell Dalia into slavery."
"What about her real father?"
"No idea. No one but me took responsibility."
"...I see."
I'd decided their fate. Standing, I placed a hand on the Coachman's head.
"What do you want to do with them?"
"...We need to uproot every rotten rule in this village. And ensure no one else suffers like me."
"Good. I'll give you the power to make that wish come true."
Through my hand on his head, I infused Void Aura. What I erased was his hesitation—the frail memories of failing his wife—instilling courage in its place.
"From now on, what happens is by your power. Think of me as your sword."
"Yes...!"
Resolve burned in the Coachman's eyes.
"Everyone ready?"
"Of course!"
"My dick's already rock-hard thinking about fucking those two bitches!"
"I get the black-haired one first!"
"I don't care which—as long as I can pound their asses."
Naked men huddled in the village hall, a single candle in the center as they awaited the deepening night. To rape the newlywed wife and the stunning traveler who'd shown up by chance.
Bonus points for watching their lovers' reactions. The despair on a man robbed of his woman fueled their excitement. That's why they targeted couples with partners.
"This waiting is the worst torture."
"True. But they say the reward's sweeter after endurance."
"Can't argue there."
The men leered and chuckled lewdly. But their laughter didn't last.
BAM! Someone kicked the hall door open.
"Who the hell—?!"
"Huh? That guy..."
"It's Dalia's old man!"
"No way! He finally manned up to fuck some women... huh?"
The Coachman strode straight to the village chief and, without hesitation, plunged a kitchen knife into his gut.
"Gah! Guhuk! What the fuck—?!"
"I'm here to claim the chief's seat, you piece of shit!"
"That bastard dares touch the chief?!"
"Get him!"
The chief's cronies swarmed the Coachman. But he didn't flinch. He bellowed.
"I proclaim Ibaiyo Village's new rule!"
A breeze blew through the open door, carrying the Coachman's declaration after his successful coup. He'd become the new chief.
Any man who rapes another's woman shall face castration!
The candle flickered out in the wind. From the darkness emerged a new black knight. His sword sliced the air, birthing a new gale—a flurry of crimson blood spraying everywhere like scattered chrysanthemum petals.