How About a Man with a House? Black Sleep

A man with his own house—how's that sound? Black Sleep.

She was a legendary assassin known in the underworld of the central continent and among certain nobles. She had never once failed a mission. It was all thanks to her unique magic that only she could wield.

"Melt."

Fragments of slime magic stone melted in her palm, seeping into her skin. By absorbing magic stones, she could use the abilities of the corresponding monster. Now she could blend perfectly into her surroundings to become invisible, or refract light to freely alter her size or face.

Not even her clients had ever seen the true face of Black Sleep.

Now, that legendary assassin Black Sleep had ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠set foot in the Wintervalt territory.

Guenter of the Golden Scale Merchant Group had paid her a fortune to scout the new city development progress.

With her tanned brown skin and sharp features, she disguised herself as a southern adventurer and boldly passed through the castle gates. Her alias was 'Sena'.

This place is brutally cold no matter when I come.

In the past, Sena—who had infiltrated the north several times on jobs—clicked her tongue inwardly. In her memory, the north was a hellish place. Emaciated citizens, reduced to skin and bones, shivered from cold and hunger, while beyond the walls came the ceaseless roars of monsters day and ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠night.

It had definitely been that way... but...

"Hahaha! Whole roasted wild boar for breakfast today!"

"Ray! Stop playing and come eat! The food's getting cold!"

Sena doubted her own eyes. The streets were filled with the mouthwatering aroma of food, and plump-cheeked children laughed as they played in the dirt. The northern men, once gaunt and irritable, now sported bulging muscles and smiles as they strolled the streets.

What the hell happened up north?

Clutching her confused head, Sena headed to the adventurer's guild to gather information.

"Come on, no pushing—line up single file!"

The guild was a madhouse like a marketplace. Countless adventurers shouted and snatched requests from the bulletin board.

Sena pushed through the crowd and checked one out.

"What... the...!?"

It was an absurd fake listing. Treants were forest calamities with steel-hard skin. Even seasoned silver-rank adventurers could only flee from them.

Go into the forest to haul those monsters... for just 17 silver?

Sena laughed in disbelief, but adventurers who had picked the same request passed by her side.

"Let's make some safe coin today!"

"Haha! Bro, at this rate, won't our skills rust away?"

They grabbed carts as if they were really going to fetch treants, chuckling among themselves. It wasn't bravado. There was no fear in their eyes.

In this ridiculous scene, Sena nearly forgot why she was even here.

"You. That skin tone... from the south?"

An adventurer who met her gaze stopped on his way out and spoke to her. He had a fierce look with a large scar across his face. His silver-rank tag hung around his neck. An opponent she could dispatch easily.

Sena lowered her guard slightly and replied.

"Yeah. Name's Sena."

"New face. If you're okay with it, wanna join us on the request? I'm Gail."

Then, a man packing gear behind Gail burst out excitedly.

"Whoa! Bro! Are you hitting on a girl right now? First time I've seen it since I joined the party!"

"Shut it, Rick!"

As the flippant guy made a racket, Gail flushed and cleared his throat.

"Join you on a request? With a total stranger?"

Sena showed her wariness, and Gail shrugged.

"Southern adventurers don't have the best rep these days. Lots bail from the training grounds, packing their bags. If you're cool with it, as a senior who's settled here first, I could give you some advice."

Sena pondered briefly, but Rick couldn't hold his tongue.

"Aha. So bro's into that slim type, huh? Makes sense—northern ladies have arms thinner than your thighs."

"You gonna shut up or not!?"

Gail kicked Rick's shin. Sena was dumbfounded. She hadn't expected such frivolous come-ons.

Adventurers are horny dogs everywhere I go.

She clicked her tongue inwardly, but for intel gathering, it wasn't a bad offer. Sena nodded, and Gail beamed.

"It's settled then. Let's hurry—might not be any treants left."

"...What does that mean?"

"You'll see."

Sena followed Gail's party with a queasy feeling.

The sun rose at midnight.

What a contradictory sentence. But at the Wintervalt new city construction site, it was actually happening.

"Huff...! Huff...!"

Sena, hauling materials, gasped for breath. Simple day labor at 16 silver a day had brought the legendary assassin to her knees.

Th-these crazy bastards. How the hell are they so fit?!

Hauling steel trees all day and night labor besides. She needed to revise her assessment of Gail's party.

"Her Highness is shining on us!!"

"Night shift bonus is sweet!!"

Worse than the southern adventurers were the northern locals. Men who looked like they could strangle dire wolves barehanded hummed tunes as they strode with steel trees.

They rested less than Sena, carried heavier loads, yet showed no fatigue— their eyes sparkled instead.

What kind of life goal made them so earnest?

Sena's legs trembled; she couldn't keep up.

"Tough, huh?"

"Just a bit tired."

Gail approached, wiping sweat, and Sena replied coldly. Losing in stamina to mere laborers—especially a silver-rank nobody—wounded her pride.

"No need to mope."

Gail grinned and handed her a canteen.

"When we first came north, we tapped out faster than you. Stick with the guild's hellish training and eat meat stew regularly, and your stamina'll skyrocket."

"Meat stew in the north? ...This isn't some scam to recruit adventurers?"

"Why would I scam a fellow southerner? Hang in there. Her Highness's midnight snack ration's coming soon."

Sena's head spun from the flood of info after a day of grueling labor. A sun in the night sky, the Silent Forest, monstrous northern stamina. All defied common sense.

"Alright! Bring the slime mucus!"

The construction master's call widened Sena's eyes. Slime magic stone fragments were rare; even she couldn't use them freely. Yet the laborers scooped huge vats of slime mucus, mixing in stones and dirt.

"What... the hell are they doing?"

"Oh, that. Slime mucus hardens tougher than steel."

Gail answered casually, leaving Sena dizzy. Commoners building shops and homes, yet pouring rare slime mucus and forest calamities like steel trees—materials hard to get even in the central continent.

Guenter, you poor fool.

Guenter had misread the board completely. The north wasn't just self-sufficient in materials; they'd scoff at central ones now.

"We'll never run short on construction materials in our lifetime."

"Haha! No need to worry about that crap. Just work diligently."

Gail, slacking beside her, stood slowly.

"Fyi, I'm gonna be... owner of one of those houses going up soon."

He cleared his throat, glancing at her.

"Ho. Not bad for an adventurer—saved up nicely."

"Y-yeah. Might borrow a bit, but I'll have a proper house in my name soon. Uh, so... what's your schedule tomorrow, Sena?"

"Dunno. Still thinking."

Sena replied indifferently to his stammering. Rick, eavesdropping, snickered.

"No way. Barely any savings, banking on one housing right and going full throttle. Bro's beating me to marriage!"

Thwack!

"Ow! Bro! Why step on my foot!"

"Shut your trap!?"

The unexpected topic made Sena's face heat up. Back-alley scum who'd tried dirty moves on her had ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠lost tongues and heads. She was the empire's top assassin, Black Sleep.

But... the clumsy southern adventurer's awkward boast didn't feel so bad.

Am I crazy? Too much labor's messed with my head.

Sena hurriedly turned, using light refraction to hide her flushed cheeks.

A short time later. Golden Scale Merchant Group headquarters.

"Wh-what the hell is this bullshit!"

Guenter's wail echoed in the luxurious office. On his desk lay the report from the legendary assassin, Black Sleep.

"This... this is it!? Damn it! What legendary assassin Black Sleep!"

He'd shelled out big to investigate northern corruption or secrets tied to Wintervalt's development.

Childish scribbles like that. Guenter tore at his hair, sobbing.

The timber he'd planned to sell north at 50% markup was molding in hastily rented bad warehouses. All bought on debt, including high-interest loans.

"A dream... I've been dreaming this nightmare lately...!"

As Guenter spun impossible hopes, the office door exploded inward. Burly men stormed in.

Bam!

Infamous central continent loan sharks. The Blood ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Axe gang.

"Aigoo, aigoo. Our merchant lord. So hard to see your face."

"K-Karos! What brings you here...?"

Guenter paled, slumping in his chair. Karos sauntered casually.

"Here for my money. Said you'd pay principal and interest in one go from selling to the north? What's the deal? Deadline passed. Impressive. Screwing the north deal, screwing mine. A merchant's life is credit, yeah?"

Karos placed a hand lightly on Guenter's shoulder.

Then squeezed hard.

Guenter screamed at the unprecedented pain.

"Heard funny rumors. Monster Duke blacklisted you—permanent ban from the north? Wow~ What's the secret to keeping your head?"

"J-just wait a bit... Gah!"

Karos hurled Guenter to the floor. With a nod, thugs ransacked the office: legendary paintings off walls, statues, gold bars from bookshelves—all swept into sacks.

"N-not that painting! That's my goal as a merchant..."

"Shut it, punk."

Thud! Karos's kick smashed Guenter's face mercilessly. Blood poured from his nose.

"Interest covered by this. Principal by next month. Run... you know."

Karos patted his axe and grinned. The sharks left sneering. The opulent office was rubble.

"Urk... Waaaaaah!!"

Guenter collapsed on the empty floor, weeping blood tears.

The merchant lord who'd strutted the central continent recently was now a pathetic wretch threatened by loan sharks.

The princess... I have to go to Princess Luluen.

Guenter clutched his broken nose, his only remaining choice.