"Why don't you worry about yourself?"
The scarred man's voice slid in close, rough and low, like gravel dragged across stone.
Then came the blade.
Its cold spine grazed the back of my neck—slow, deliberate—then slid upward, settling beneath my chin.
I froze. My breath caught, stuck somewhere between my lungs and lips, while my arms instinctively tightened around the wounded young man slumped against me.
Still… I made the mistake of glaring back.
Metal whispered.
The blade nudged my hood aside.
Snip.
Something brushed my cheek as it fell. A few strands of pinkish hair—sliced clean. I felt the air shift around them, soft as a sigh, as they drifted down.
The blade lingered at my throat, colder than death.
I forced my voice out—brittle and shaking—afraid my neck might be next.
"B-Boss, why don't we just… talk this through? Maybe we can negotiate..."
"Negotiate?"
He echoed the word with a tilt of his head, voice laced with mockery—like he was savoring the taste of it.
"Y-yes, yes..." The words tumbled out faster than I could think. "As you can see, I'm not a beggar—I'm a customer!"
He stilled. His gaze dropped to the boy cradled in my arms, then slowly rose back to my face. His eyes lingered—sharp, unreadable.
"Speak."
Hearing his voice—flat and cold as winter stone—made me swallow my own saliva.
"W-well, you see…"
My mind raced, scrambling for anything—anything—that could get us out of this.
Then, the boy in my arms let out a faint groan.
Like a spark catching dry wood, something lit in my brain. I straightened a little, trying to sound confident.
"You see," I said, clearing my throat, "I'm really interested in this slave. I'd like to buy him."
Silence followed.
The scarred man looked me over—taking in everything from my mud-caked boots to the strands of hair still clinging to my face. Then, he raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching into something like a smirk.
"I didn't know you swing that way."
His words hit like a slap, and for a full second, my brain just… stopped.
Wait—what did he just say?
Then it clicked—and heat rushed to my face.
"No! N-not like that!" I blurted, louder than I meant to. My voice cracked.
Panic scrambled for a save. "As you can see, my clothes aren't exactly… aristocratic," I said, gesturing vaguely at my mud-smeared cloak. "But I do have money! A bag of it!"
I cleared my throat, scrambling to sound official. "I—I'm a servant of Duke Frallizer. Yes! And the young lady I serve, well, she wants a slave. One who's… younger and prettier than the rest—before the market opens!"
The words tumbled out in a rush. My mouth ran far ahead of my brain.
"My lady doesn't like them old or... unpleasant-looking!"
I felt my hands trembling under the boy's weight while blinking many times, trying to make sense of the nonsense I'd just spat.
Still… Looking at him now, maybe the lie wasn't so far off.
Even covered in dirt and writhing in pain, he looked...
Well... Stunning. Like some tragic painting—bruised, but beautiful..
That wild white hair—soft, messy and snowlike. Pale skin that somehow still looked smooth beneath the grime. Eyebrows perfectly shaped, like they'd been drawn with a careful hand. And his eyes—those eyes—like they held a whole ocean inside them.
Yeah. He was handsomely beautiful. No denying it
'This lie might actually work.'
To my surprise, the scarred man's eyes widened—just a fraction. A flicker of confusion crossed his face before his voice dropped to a low murmur.
"You're a servant of Lady Frallizer…?"
"Yes! Yes, I am!" I jumped on it like a drowning man to driftwood. "And I'm here strictly for business!"
He went quiet. The confusion drained from his face like it had never been there. Cold returned to his eyes—sharp as broken glass.
"You chose this guy for the Lady?" he asked, voice dripping with sarcasm. Then he laughed—short, dry, humorless.
"You've got skills, I'll give you that. Sneaking past all of us... Disguising yourself as some poor, stuttering fool, just to pick out a little plaything for your mistress?"
I swallowed hard and forced myself to stay composed. "I'm just a servant... fulfilling my duties."
He tilted his head slightly, studying me the way a butcher sizes up meat.
"A servant. On an errand. Carrying a full purse," he mused. "Sounds... appetizing."
Then he moved.
The dagger vanished into its sheath, and in one fluid motion, he drew a longer blade—heavier, darker, humming with quiet menace.
Steel caught the low light as he raised it—not at me, but at the boy in my arms.
I moved without thinking. Twisting my body, I stepped back. The sword cut through the space between us—far too close.
"Why do business," he said coolly, "when I could just take your money?"
I kept my stance firm, forcing my voice to steady despite the unease gnawing at my insides. The last thing I needed was to slip up and shatter the lie I'd barely kept afloat.
"You saw it, didn't you? I pulled the money from my subspace. No one can access that kind of artifact except its owner. Isn't that why I'm still breathing?"
For a split second, his smirk faltered—then vanished. His eyes sharpened, more dangerous than before. From beneath the bandages, that cursed purple dust began to leak again.
With his speed and that mysterious power, I had nowhere to run. Not a chance.
Moreover, my muscles screamed in protest. Each breath burned. Holding the young man upright was like trying to lift stone with snapped arms. I was running on fumes.
"Fifty gold," I said, blurting the words before I lost my nerve. "That's what I'm offering for this slave—plus the bonus I already gave. That should keep your boss happy, shouldn't it? Maybe enough that he won't think about killing you... for letting his slaves escape and wasting his precious time."
A flicker—barely there. The twitch of an eyebrow. But I saw it.
Got him.
His voice came low, edged with steel.
"You've come too far just to walk away. Make it a hundred. Pay the price—keep your life."
'Typical mercenary.' Greed practically oozed from him, just like his boss.
"Fifty."
I held my ground. My voice didn't shake. "Take it or leave it. And if I'm dying here, so are you. Every second counts for your boss. His clients aren't just nobles—the emperor himself is among them. Who knows? Maybe your time's already up."
He stilled.
Eyes narrowed. Processing. But instead of reacting to the threat, his attention shifted—to the name.
"The emperor?" His voice lowered, suddenly cautious. "Who are you? How do you know that? Did the Duke...?"
I didn't skip a beat. "Like I said, I serve House Frallizer."
And I pushed on before doubt could crawl in.
"And if this slave dies, you won't see a single coin. I can't deliver ruined merchandise, can I?"
His eyes widened, just a bit. Then he gave a quiet laugh and shook his head. Slowly, he sheathed his sword.
"You're pretty witty for a servant. No wonder the Lady trusts you."
"I'm just doing my job."
A smirk curled at the corner of his lips. "We have a deal, then... dear customer."
"Yes."
I finally let out a slow breath, tension and relief coiling around each other in my chest.
Never imagined I could lie that smoothly.
'Must be a hidden talent I've been ignoring.'
I glanced down at the young man again—his messy white hair falling across his face. His unconscious form reminded me exactly why I needed to hurry.
Reaching for my inventory was harder than expected. My arms felt like lead, stiff from exhaustion, and I couldn't risk setting him down—not even for a second. Every moment counted. I had to be ready to run.
Awkwardly, I fumbled with one hand and tapped the gold coin icon. Three bags appeared, each packed with fifty gold coins. I hit the decrease button until the number dropped to twenty-five.
"Here," I muttered, teeth clenched as I wrestled with the bag, trying to keep it from slipping. "Twenty-five for now. I'll leave the rest by that tree." I nodded toward one about twenty meters away.
"You're quite cautious," he remarked, stepping forward to take the bag.
"Well, in this line of work, trust doesn't come cheap."
He let out a chuckle—dry, but seemingly satisfied. "Heh. Alright. You're free to go."
As I turned to leave, I stole one last glance back at the captives.
Bodies lay scattered like fallen leaves—limp, broken. A few were curled in on themselves, faces contorted in pain or frozen in fear. The sight twisted something in my chest.
But I couldn't afford to dwell.
'Kaiser will come for them.'
I told myself that. I had to.
My chest tightened for a moment, but I pushed the feeling away. There was no time. No room for lingering thoughts.
I quickened my steps, heading straight for the tree where I promised to leave the rest of the gold.
"It was a pleasure doing business with you," I said, forcing the words out as I pulled the money from my inventory. I dropped it quickly, kicking it farther away before turning on my heel and sprinting in the opposite direction.
The young man in my arms coughed violently, jolted by the sudden motion. The ride was rough—but I couldn't afford to slow down.
"Hang in there," I muttered under my breath.
His HP continued to drop steadily. I needed to find a trail, a village—anything with proper medicine. But could my body even hold up long enough?
The Cloak of Narda boosted my stamina and HP, but I knew it wouldn't last much longer. Fifteen minutes at most. My muscles were already burning, the strain of carrying him almost unbearable.
Barely conscious, the young man whispered, "...J-just leave me..."
I nearly tripped from frustration. After everything I'd done to save him, he wanted me to abandon him?
"Tch. If I could, I would. Save your breath—I need you alive."
But before I could take another step, a voice rang out behind me, sharp and mocking.
"Who said you can run away?"
I glanced back. The scarred-man was chasing me, twisted excitement gleaming in his eyes. Just like I feared. He must've taken the gold for himself, probably why he knocked out his own men—so no one could get in his way. With that kind of money, of course, he wanted more.
"I'm not your piggy bank!" I shouted back, tightening my grip on the boy.
But he didn't stop. Only grinned wider.
Then... something shifted.
The air grew colder. Heavier. Like time itself held its breath.
The scarred-man froze mid-chase, his eyes widening in disbelief.
The eager legs that had been chasing me moments before were now locked in place, as if his body had sensed something I hadn't. And then, a primal instinct screamed inside me—something was coming. Fast.
A gust of wind rushed from the direction ahead, carrying with it the metallic scent of blood. Thick. Foul. Far stronger than the young man's wound.
The woods fell silent. Even the flamebees—those mesmerizing, buzzing creatures—were gone. They fled, sensing something far worse than even a high-ranking monster.
The light dimmed. The wind bit deeper, colder.
And then I saw him.
A blur cutting through the trees—silent, terrifying.
He emerged into view, slowing his pace, every movement deliberate, as if he were a storm knowing exactly where to strike. His eyes—storm clouds, dark and unreadable. His sword dragged along the ground, sparks flying with each step.
My heart nearly stopped.
"...Kaiser…"
[ Warning! The Author is not allowed to meet the protagonist. ]
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[ Quest: Locat[] and S[]ve the In[]ocent On[] ]
Time Duration: 7 days and 1 minute
Location: Annonno-o's Forest
Condition: The Author must succeed without interfering with Kaiser's destiny.
Rewards:
- 10 RP points
- Eye of Tharm (skill)
- The Map of Yoodok (skill)
Failure: Death