Chapter 6
Chapter 6
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 6
Chapter Title: Aira, Flower of Evil #6
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If I had to sum up the novel *Villain Hunter* that I remembered in one word, it would be dark hero story.
A psychopathic protagonist crushes the world's overflowing villains with even greater evil. Along the way, he gathers allies, punishes the bad guys, and grabs whatever benefits come his way. That kind of tale.
It was the textbook example of a villainous protagonist, with a refreshingly straightforward plot that had earned it some popularity, and that's how I ended up reading it.
Once during its serialization, there was a comment like this:
「Why aren't you killing that one when you kill everyone else?」
It was about a certain villain character. Taeo, the villain who boosted comment counts every time he appeared.
And whether that guy showed up or not, there was someone fervently demanding his execution in the comments—
That was me.
「Rip that bastard apart and kill him!」
...Fuck.
Maybe the added line in the novel, *'One day, Taeo was executed for all his past karma,'* was thrown in because of me.
Or maybe it wasn't karma after all.
Was I the one being punished?
No, what punishment could I deserve? What did I do wrong?
I just lived diligently. Worked hard, read novels and left comments in my spare time. That's not a crime, right?
Now, looking back, those days feel like a dream.
With those thoughts swirling, I lay down in bed and tried to sleep.
Of course, I didn't forget to check that the barrier stones at the windows and entrance were working properly before drifting off.
I could die anytime, anywhere.
Hell, there could be an assassin hiding under my bed right now, and it wouldn't be surprising.
“…….”
But there really wasn't one, right?
Rustle, rustle—
Tilting my head, I could definitely sense something stirring under the bed.
Ever since becoming this body, I'd survived countless brushes with death, sharpening my senses to those of a deer drinking at a river teeming with crocodiles. I was confident in that.
Something was really under there.
I quietly drew the dagger from beside the pillow.
━When taking someone down, aim for the throat or eyes. Don't hesitate.
Recalling how Elga once taught me how to kill, I slowly extended my foot toward the floor.
Swoosh—
My bare foot touched the warm carpet, but nothing happened. Was the assassin waiting for me to fall asleep?
That thought kept me tense for a moment—
━Woof woof.
“Ah—.”
The sound from below loosened my taut nerves like a slackened rubber band, draining the strength from my body.
“What the hell, not an assassin.”
Of course not. No assassin could breach the barriers protecting my house. I must've been on edge from today's chaos.
Peering under the bed, I saw a pair of black eyes staring back.
“When did you get here?”
━Woof woof—!
As I reached out, something small scampered into my hand. Anyone could guess what it was from the barking cries.
That's right, a squirrel.
In this world, squirrels go woof woof. No idea why, but it's common sense.
What do squirrels normally sound like? Chirp chirp or something, since they're rodents?
...Whatever.
“Come here—.”
I held out my palm, and the squirrel, a bit smaller than my hand, scurried onto it.
━Woof woof—.
This one had a scar near its left eye. It lived in a nest in the nearby street trees and often popped up in my room like this.
“Did you sneak in when I opened the door?”
━Woof woof.
Pretty smart; I'd fed it sometimes, and now it was tame enough to climb into my hand.
“Wait here.”
I grabbed an almond seed from the wooden shelf by the bed and gave it to the little guy. It snatched it up, crunching away happily, then pawed the air for more.
━Woof woof—!
“No more almonds. Want to try this? Fresh mint flavor—”
━Grrr—!!!
“Got it. Damn, picky for an animal.”
Still, watching its cheeks puff out made all the complicated worries from moments ago vanish.
Animals are the best.
They don't scheme or harbor malice.
They just eat, sleep, play in the fields, climb trees. Living instinctively peaceful lives makes them easy to deal with.
Around animals like this, even I could be just a normal person, not the villain Taeo.
“You're my only ally, huh?”
I raised my index finger to stroke its head.
━Grrr—!
But it bolted like a shot, vanishing as if the snacks were a lie.
Heartless little shit.
It probably sees me as a vending machine for food.
At least it wasn't an assassin under the bed. With tension gone, exhaustion crashed over me like waves.
Busy day tomorrow. Better sleep.
The hero might show up soon.
I'd told Aira I was taking a day off tomorrow, so I'd head to the market first thing.
* * *
Monarch City, home to Angmar's palace, was about the size of modern Seoul.
Dense population, that scale.
From what I remembered, it was described as *'a city ringed by tall mountains and bisected by a great river,'* which felt very Seoul-like.
But stretching my limited vocabulary further—
Truth be told, it was closer to late Joseon-era chaotic Hanyang than modern Seoul.
Outside the pristine central district where nobles lived, clean roads were rare.
It was a city swarming with slum dwellers, bandits, hustlers, and cult preachers.
On my days off, I'd wander the city like this, from clean central streets to filthy outskirts.
To get some air, check things out, and gauge public sentiment—nothing beat strolling the markets firsthand.
━Look over there—hey! The hero's passing by—!
━That on his back... the blessed weapon? Looks weird.
Hero?
I whipped my head around, hood up against the muddy road.
There, amid the bustling crowd, stood a strikingly tall, gaunt man with a bushy gray beard like a broom.
━Hero of the plow—?
━Just a regular plow. How's that a holy weapon?
━Don't mock it. He's killed more bandits with that than you can count on two hands—.
As people whispered, the sturdy-built man carried a plow on his back, like for tilling fields.
But if he was truly chosen by a holy relic, that plow could bisect most folks without issue.
That's what heroes were in this world.
But not this guy.
I sighed in half-relief, half-disappointment. Not the one I was looking for.
Don't confuse people like that.
Still, like a butterfly's wingbeat birthing a storm, any variable here could turn the blade at my throat.
Better file away *'Plow Hero'* just in case.
━Weird guy. But what's a hero, anyway?
━You idiot. Hell if I know. Some big shot, right?
The distant chatter made me recall what heroes meant here after a while.
In this land, one day, an everyday object you're attached to might gain mystical power.
The Church of Radiant Flame calls them holy relics, and their wielders heroes—errand boys on call.
That plow guy probably had his tool turn holy, making him a hero. Farmer, maybe?
No use hiding it now: the one I sought was a hero too.
The protagonist of *Villain Hunter*, this world's mirror image.
Another bust today.
No word on those guys at all.
Their unique weapons should've spread rumors fast.
━Hero with a crossbow? No idea.
━Nobody like that here!
Despite wasting time and coin, no leads on my target.
Just burned hours.
He definitely existed in this world, right?
Hunched somewhere, sharpening claws to emerge as my greatest foe.
Even with every resource, no whispers of *Villain Hunter*'s protagonist.
Hell, I'd even wondered if this world differed from the novel—no hero at all.
Not impossible.
Sunset before I hit one last spot.
* * *
My final stop was a tavern in the western slums, far from Monarch City's central avenue.
Named *Nymph's Gutter*, the name was odd, but it was a massive three-story inn drawing crowds.
A dumping ground for all sorts.
Surprisingly, that's where juicy rumors and wisdom clustered.
Of course, so did bullshit and slander—always stay sharp.
Ding, ding—
Pushing open the sliding door, I saw folks already drunk by early evening, chugging away.
Floor littered with shattered cups, spilled booze, and a rat snatching cheese heading for its hole.
“Ugh, booze stench—.”
Hygiene was abysmal. But my nerves weren't that frayed.
I grabbed a dim corner seat unnoticed, ordering something like pork belly from the freckled server girl who stood out.
Then tuned into the noisy scene.
I, villain Taeo Gospel, had freakishly good ears—could pluck desired intel from tavern chaos like magic.
━Baby, I skipped panties today.
━One more round, then all-nighter—I'll go poof poof for ya.
Poof poof? Intriguing, but not it.
Heroes.
Any hero talk?
Ears perked, something twitched my brow.
━Heard? Sir Belmont knelt to that queen, swore loyalty.
━Yeah. Never thought he'd surrender. Guess Taeo's the real deal. Broke that stubborn knight's honor.
━Why waste that talent on evil—tsk.
They knew about the palace execution with Belmont. I'd ordered silence, but rumors leaked anyway.
━So, is it true? That weedy gardener Taeo packing major heat—
━No wonder the queen's hooked. Man, evil bastard, but jealous. Bet he gropes those huge tits nightly?
Never groped.
━Saw Aira parading central street once. Damn fine. My wife looked like calamari. Kingdom's hottest ain't hype.
━That good?
━Hell yeah—!
Typical tavern chatter about Aira and me.
Mostly curses for me, envy mixed with hate for her.
Not blind hate; she wasn't just called tyrant for nothing.
Surprisingly, these streets had fervent Aira fans, rowdy types.
Politics: looks were a huge plus.
Aira didn't leverage it well, though.
With my support, maybe it'd work. No—had to make it work.
Crash—
Glass shattering snapped me out.
Looking up, the freckled server who'd taken my order lay sprawled, scowling.
“Kyaa—!”
“What's your problem?”
Ahead, a ferret-mustached man fumed.
Chess pawn brooch on his shoulder: low-rank kingdom official? Yellow armband screamed tax collector.
He slicked back his oily hair, ranting.
“What, can't like you? Huh? Liking you a big sin? Pitied your sorry ass, patted your butt for encouragement—and.”
He yanked the skinny girl up roughly by her hand. She shrieked, face crumpling.
“Why—why?! Let go—!
“Lowly slum barmaid—!”
“I'm not a barmaid, just a server—.”
“Shut it—! Sophie, I got pure feelings too. Crush 'em with your heel, and you'll be a real barmaid—!”
What.
Typical tavern drama. Happens everywhere.
Bouncers'd thrash the official soon.
The madam running *Nymph's Gutter* was no-nonsense.
“H-Help—! Someone—!”
“Come to my mansion—. Yeah? Won't get your hands dirty—!”
But no bouncers.
Glancing over, staff watched grimly from afar with others.
What gives? Madam wouldn't let her place get trashed.
Curious, I asked an old man tsk-tsking nearby.
“Excuse me, why's everyone just watching?”
He exploded like he'd waited for it.
“How could we move—! That bastard's backed by *that* scum—!”
“*That* scum—who?”
“Who else but *that* scum? Taeo, the queen's boy toy, uses him as right-hand man—no one dares step up—!”
“Ah—.”
News to me I had a right-hand man.
Hilarious.