Chapter 1
Chapter 1
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: uly
Chapter: 1
Chapter Title: The Start is Shabby (1)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
A world where swords and magic danced in perfect harmony.
What if you suddenly fell into a place like that?
Suppose you gained some incredible power as the price of entering that other world?
Congratulations. You could just rampage around with that ability and live life on your terms.
But what if you didn't have any amazing powers? What if you were just a hotel chef from back home?
You could open a restaurant with your cooking skills. Once your name gets out, some big shot might even hire you as their head cook.
Or if you graduated from somewhere like Harvard or Oxford's engineering program and knew machines inside and out?
Time for an industrial revolution. Give those barbaric knights and mages a taste of hot lead.
But what if... you had no special talents, no standout skills like cooking, and not even any practical knowledge?
What would happen then?
You'd end up just like me.
-Cock-a-doodle-doo!!
The rooster's crow jolted me awake on reflex.
"Already morning? Damn it."
I started another shitty day with a yawn. Stretching as I got up.
I roughly ran my fingers through my messy hair and splashed water from the basin I'd filled onto my face.
Ready to head out. I stepped out of my rundown shack and made for the square.
The sun was just rising, but there were already plenty of people in the square. Mostly folks opening up shops.
I found a spot with a clear view of the whole square and plopped down.
Now came the waiting game. I pulled out some hardtack and shoved it in my mouth.
"...Fuck."
The taste made curses spill out naturally. Hard, dry, and utterly flavorless. But it was cheap and packed with calories. If not for that, there'd be no reason to eat this crap.
I munched on the hardtack while waiting for people to fill the square.
About an hour later, armed guards started patrolling bit by bit.
Three hours in, crowds gathered in the square. Travelers passing through or shoppers heading to stores.
"Fewer people today."
The turnout was down from last time.
Maybe because the festival had just ended?
I pushed aside my disappointment and scanned the crowd intently for prey.
Prey meaning, of course, someone worth picking pockets from.
There were a few rules for choosing marks.
First: Never hit the same person twice. They might shrug off one loss as bad luck, but twice? They'd feel insulted and hunt you down.
Second: Avoid regulars in the square. Unless you're planning to quit pickpocketing after one or two jobs, better steer clear.
Third: Similar to the second—target tourists as much as possible. The city had plenty of entertainment, drawing crowds of visitors. They were safe marks with solid payouts and no backlash.
"Jackpot."
Found a good one.
A neatly dressed man wearing a hat with a brim.
I'd never seen him in my two years here, and his outfit screamed money.
I trailed him slowly, waiting for him to buy something and flash his wallet.
But like he could read my mind, he showed no sign of shopping.
'Damn, just passing through, huh.'
I was about to give up tailing him when he stopped at a fruit stand.
I halted my retreat, crept closer at a snail's pace, and fixed my eyes on him.
He haggled with the shopkeeper, sighed when it fell through, and pulled out his wallet.
I watched closely where he drew it from and stowed it back.
'Left hip.'
He had it tied to his left hip with a string.
Position noted, I strode past him briskly, then casually turned and walked back.
Now we headed opposite ways.
The moment we brushed past each other, my hand flashed like lightning.
Right hand snagged the wallet; left hand's dagger sliced the string.
Honed from hundreds of reps, he noticed nothing. I pocketed it and ducked into an alley.
"Let's see how much we got..."
Three 5-copper coins and five 1-copper ones.
"20 copper? Score."
Typical pocket usually yielded 5 copper tops, 1 at worst.
This one score beat four average hauls.
Big win.
I couldn't stop grinning as I pocketed the coppers. Heading out of the alley—
"There you are. Been looking for you."
A voice I hated grated from behind. I clicked my tongue and turned.
Kalrix approached, his sleazy face twisted as usual.
"Too early for tribute, isn't it?"
To survive doing shady work in this city, you paid tribute to the Masked Gang.
I couldn't dodge it either—forked over 2 silver every month.
Kalrix was the errand boy who collected from me.
"Yeah, it is."
"Then what do you want?"
"Can't I just drop by?"
"Nah. You can't."
Kalrix always acted buddy-buddy with me. Spend that effort managing his goons instead.
"Cut the crap and get to the point."
"Fine, straight to it then."
Kalrix nodded and spoke up.
"You ever been to Kalita?"
"Kalita?"
Kalita was a city about two days' travel from here.
"Why there?"
"Boss's orders. Deliver this letter. So you're coming with me to Kalita."
Kalrix slipped the letter onto his finger and wagged it.
"Deliver a letter?"
"Yeah, to the boss's little brother in Kalita. Easy, right?"
"Sounds easy. But why me? You've got goons for that."
"Goon? They're my friends. And those friends have other jobs."
"Other jobs? Spill it, don't hold back."
"If you insist."
Kalrix shrugged.
"You know a new gang moved into town recently?"
Yeah, I knew.
The slums had been buzzing over it. Some group selling drugs cheaper than the Masked Gang.
Heard it was a pink-haired woman, a bob-cut girl, and a guy with a small dagger.
"Three people count as a gang?"
"Nah, three ain't a gang."
"That's what I heard. So what, they built one?"
"Yep. Over twenty strong now."
I couldn't believe it.
It'd been less than a week since I heard about those three, and they'd already assembled twenty-plus?
"What was the Masked Gang boss doing, not crushing them?"
"New guard captain just took over. Boss was busy schmoozing him."
"Then ask the captain to sweep 'em up. Good PR for him, clear streets for the boss."
"Would've been ideal. But get this—the new captain's tight with that woman... Roxy, was it? Yeah, Roxy."
"He just got the post. Already connected?"
"Exactly! Sudden captain swap. Captain linked to Roxy. Smells fishy, right?"
Kalrix hammed it up.
His tone grated, but I agreed.
Assembling a gang in under two weeks, right as the captain changes.
No coincidence.
"So the boss went hardline."
"Hardline?"
Kalrix glanced around, confirmed no listeners, and said gravely,
"War."
"Crazy."
War.
Bit grandiose for thugs slinging drugs.
But they used the word for a reason.
These gangs didn't do half-measures. Fought till one side was smashed.
When war hit, the slums turned into a morgue.
One slip, and I could end up a corpse. The thought soured my face.
"Sigh... Fine. So the letter's a call for reinforcements?"
"Bingo. Deliver to the boss's brother in Kalita, and he'll send guys."
I crossed my arms against the wall, sorting my thoughts.
But one thing still bugged me.
"Got it. But why me for Kalita? Send one of your guys. Not all seven can be busy."
Kalrix had seven underlings. No way they were all tied up.
He flashed his signature sleazy grin.
"All busy. Super important stuff."
"Important? Now? Wait, you don't mean..."
A bad premonition hit.
Affirming it, Kalrix kept smiling and slung an arm around me.
"Meet at the east gate tomorrow morning, before dawn."
He patted my shoulder twice and sauntered off.
I scowled at his back.
"Friends my ass..."
Calling the guys he'd sell out for a leg up "friends."
Even with a thick skin, that's low.
I shook my head and left the alley.
After chatting with Kalrix, I lifted two more wallets.
Total haul: 30 copper.
Double my average 15.
I tucked the heavier purse inside my shirt and headed to my shack.
Sun had set; twilight lit faces devoid of smiles.
Nothing like the bustling square.
Business as usual in the slums.
"If war breaks out here..."
Once before, gangs had clashed.
Bodies every ten steps in the slums.
"Gotta hole up at an inn for a while."
Inn stays dodged the worst. Fancy "underworld" talk aside, they were just crooks.
The guards ignored slum antics, but trouble elsewhere? They'd crack down.
"Ugh, but inns are pricey."
Cheapest was 3 copper a night. Meals extra.
Money drain soured my mood.
"Pisses me off more the longer I think. Why trash this place..."
I cursed the unseen Roxy. Villages and cities everywhere—why here?
Muttering expletives about Roxy, I reached the shack.
Opened the door.
Dim, frigid interior—not a speck of warmth—greeted me.
I stepped into the familiar gloom, lay down. Didn't forget the latch.
Staring at the dark ceiling from the cold floor...
"Fucking hell."
A wave of misery hit. On impulse, I drew my dagger to my throat.
Blade pricked thin skin. Just a push...
"Fuck off. Cut it out. Not like I'd do it anyway."
I flung the dagger away. Who knew how many times this made.
Kindled a fire, closed my eyes. Another shitty day sank into dusk.
And the next day.
"You're here? Running a bit late."
A new shitty day dawned.