"!"

It was him.

The face of the man who killed my mother.

Even under the dim torchlight, there was no mistaking it.

How could I ever forget that face, even though I saw it only once as a child?

Not even in my dreams had I forgotten it.

In my imagination, I had sliced that face countless times with a blade.

But I never knew his name, his occupation, or where I could find him. All I knew was his face.

As I grew older, I thought he might be the notorious Helga that I’d heard in rumors, but Helga was said to be a woman. Though some claimed she looked like a man, I was still unsure.

But now, it seems that Helga was not my true enemy.

No, it was this man.

Recalling the memories from my childhood, I was certain.

"Yes, there’s no mistake. It’s him."

The face was exactly the same as the one I had seen as a child.

My teeth ground together with a loud creak.

The memory of that day flooded back into my mind, as vivid as if it had happened just yesterday.

I was, what, seven years old? Maybe eight?

I can’t remember my exact age.

In fact, I’m not even sure if my age now—somewhere in my late thirties—is accurate.

I grew up following my mother from place to place, wandering endlessly. Sometimes she told me I was five years old, and then, during the same year, she’d say I was six.

Sigh.

Taking a deep breath, I tried to calm myself.

The year my mother died, we stayed in one place, a little distance from the capital, for a long time. It was much longer than usual, so even as a child, I found it odd.

Looking back, I think my mother was waiting for someone’s message.

I didn't know for sure, but it seemed my mother was part of some kind of shady guild.

All I knew was that she accepted assassination jobs to make ends meet. From what I could tell, she wasn't particularly skilled at it.

If she had been an exceptional assassin, she wouldn't have died so easily.

One day, my mother had placed me up in a tree with dense leaves, and we waited for a long time.

Eventually, that man appeared, and she approached him.

She seemed to be trying to speak to him.

Even back then, my mother wasn't a stunning beauty, but she had a captivating presence.

She smiled once and leaned slightly toward the man.

And then, the man’s massive axe moved.

For a moment, I didn't understand what had happened.

I saw the axe swing, and the next thing I knew, my mother’s head was rolling across the ground.

Her face, still looking as if she might answer if I spoke to her, turned toward me up in that tree.

She had told me not to make a sound, but I couldn’t help it—a scream burst out of me.

Or maybe it was more like a wail. Whatever it was, it was loud, and the man glanced up at me.

I thought I was going to die too, but instead, he just left.

Even after he left, I didn’t know what to do. I sat in that tree and cried for hours.

That's all I remember about the day my mother died.

Because of the shock, everything before and after that moment is a blur.

Thinking of that gaze meeting mine through the leaves, a chill ran down my spine, as if I were back in that moment.

Suppressing the rising fear, I muttered quietly to myself.

“To meet here of all places…”

There could be no worse kind of ill-fated encounter.

When I searched for him for so long, he was nowhere to be found. Now that I had given up and resolved to start a new life, he appeared before me.

And it wasn't enough that he killed my mother; now he had even taken the woman I was supposed to marry.

"I won’t forgive him. Never."

My grinding teeth made a grating noise.

I came to this village about four years ago.

I had seen a woman who resembled my mother.

I heard she had been alone for a few years after losing her husband.

The village chief had promised that if I settled down, worked hard, and supported myself, he would let me marry her.

I trusted his words, and that’s how I ended up staying here.

And just a few months ago, after countless delays, our marriage was finally set.

If it hadn’t been for the one-eyed dogs, I’d be living with her by now.

Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.

But those strange creatures ruined everything.

It cost too much to hire the guild.

One single extermination cost 150 lira.

If an extra one showed up, it was another 100 lira.

But beyond that, the difficulty level increased, and each subsequent extermination would cost 200 lira.

There were three one-eyed dogs that appeared in the village.

That wasn't the kind of money a poor village like this could easily produce.

One of them showed up alone, but the other two were always together.

According to the village chief, who had dealt with one-eyed dogs before, the lone one was likely just a young pup trying to fend for itself.

Its parents probably drove it away, but it hadn't yet learned how to survive alone, so it kept following them.

But even this "young pup" was the size of an adult.

There was no way the villagers could deal with them on their own.

And by then, those creatures had already taken two of our children.

The village chief believed that the one-eyed dogs wouldn't leave, having realized that our village was an easy source of food.

A village meeting was held, and it was decided that each household would contribute a bit of money to pay the guild for the extermination request.

If any household couldn’t afford it, the chief and the rest of the village would provide a loan.

[“First, we’ll submit a request to the guild for one of them. Then, when an adventurer comes, we’ll just have to beg them to take care of the rest.”]

When the chief said that, he glanced over at the woman I was to marry.

He was suggesting offering her for a few nights.

I vehemently refused, but then the chief said, in that case, I should be the one to pay for the extermination of the one-eyed dogs.

Of course, I had no such money.

I even tried convincing her to run away with me, but she refused.

Having known nothing but this village since birth, she was terrified of the outside world.

She accepted it as something inevitable and cried, asking me not to abandon her.

So, unable to do anything, I swallowed my rage until it was like choking on bile.

“...”

I pressed gently on the small pouch I carried close to my chest, almost like a talisman.

Inside the tiny pouch, about the size of my thumb, were tools my mother had used for assassinations.

When I was a child, my mother taught me how to use them, time and time again.

[“You do it like this, put it in your mouth, careful—it must not touch your tongue… One mistake, and you'll end up killing yourself.”]

My mother’s voice echoed in my mind.

If she were to die, she said, I would need a way to protect myself.

Sigh.

I let out a soft breath.

Since settling in this village, I hadn’t taken the tools out. But I had kept practicing, just for this—just for revenge.

As I glared at my enemy’s face, I muttered inwardly.

“This is my chance.”

In broad daylight, I’d end up dead, just like my mother.

No, I needed the darkness—places filled with people. Only there would he fail to notice me.

He’d die without knowing who or why.

When I saw my bride-to-be heading to the chief’s house, I pulled my mother’s pouch out from my chest.

***

After walking deep into the village, I finally reached the chief’s house.

Several men were moving large wooden barrels inside even in the dead of night.

Several women, holding baskets woven from wood, were also going inside.

I had no idea what they were doing so late at night.

Growing cautious, I asked the chief.

“What are those barrels?”

“Ah, that’s liquor made in our village. I heard that… well, people like you, adventurers, enjoy drinking.”

Oh, it was something they had prepared for me.

And the entire barrel, filled with alcohol?

Unfortunately, other than wine, I hardly touched any other type of alcohol.

The drinks here didn’t really suit my taste, having been used to canned beer back in my past life.

My mother used to make liquor from goat’s milk, and I couldn’t stomach that at all.

I couldn’t even swallow a single drop.

I immediately threw it all up.

So, while I appreciated the gesture, even if they gave it to me, I couldn’t drink it.

I felt bad that they went through so much effort, but I didn’t need it.

Still, it felt wrong to ask them to take back what they had worked so hard to bring in.

Seeing my conflicted expression, the chief quickly added, “We once had an adventurer help us in this village before. We treated him the same way. You really don’t need to feel any pressure about it. We’re just so grateful that you came to this remote village to get rid of the monsters.”

Well, I was getting paid for this job, so of course, I’d come. Expecting more than that would be the real problem.

“Please, please, come inside. I heard that people like you, I mean, adventurers, especially enjoy food and drink, so we prepared plenty for you.”

The chief had almost called me a barbarian before catching himself, smiling nervously while sweating profusely.

“I didn’t witness it myself, but I heard that you killed that massive one-eyed dog with just a single axe blow. Truly remarkable! Having someone of your caliber come to our village is incredibly fortunate for us. We cannot thank you enough—no matter how many times we express our gratitude, it won't be enough.”

The chief practically gushed as he led me to the door.

Compliments are nice, but too many start feeling insincere, as if they were mocking you.

Plus, the chief’s subtle glances toward the people around us made me uneasy.

The suspicion I’d had before coming here began to rise again.

It seemed Rella had woken up, likely drawn by the scent of food.

She started chirping, demanding her meal.

‘Ah… right.’

Right now, I had something far more valuable than any white fox pelt.

A phoenix.

A rare treasure that could bring even the dying back to life.

‘Maybe someone recognized Rella.’

If that were the case, their reaction would make sense.

Neither the chief nor the men nearby seemed openly hostile, but it was possible they had put a sleeping agent in the food.

I couldn’t let my guard down.

My sense of caution shot to its peak.

Which was why I noticed it.

One of the men carrying the barrels hadn’t come out.

I distinctly remembered four men going in, but only three had come out.

One of them was glancing around as if searching for the missing person.

Something felt off.

And the moment I thought that, I felt a gaze from beyond the door.

Turning my head, something glinted in the flickering torchlight.

It wasn’t a sword or an arrow.

It was something much smaller.

If I hadn’t been on guard, I might not have noticed it at all.

It was truly minuscule.

Danger.

As my instincts screamed, I swung my axe upwards.

My target wasn’t the man standing in the darkness.

It was the door frame between us.

Before the axe could hit, I met the eyes of the man beyond the door.

The gleaming eyes were filled with hatred.

One look at those eyes, and I knew my instincts were right.

With a loud crash, the door frame shattered, the surrounding wall collapsing.

Debris and a thick cloud of dust rose between us.

Judging the spot where the man had been standing, I thrust my axe forward.

Not the blade, but the blunt end.

I wasn’t trying to behead him. I needed to crush his mouth.

That’s what I thought.

As soon as I felt the sensation of human flesh meeting the axe, different from the rocks and rubble, a small groan escaped the man.

Almost simultaneously, the chief screamed as he rushed over.

“Aaaah! My house! I just had it repaired last year!”

He raised his arms to the sky, wailing.

“A barbarian has destroyed my house!”

This reaction felt strange.

Hadn’t the villagers been in on this?

The thought flashed through my mind, but for now, everything seemed gray, uncertain.

Keeping my eye on the people’s movements, I grabbed the chief by the scruff of his neck.

“Gurk!”

His face turned pale from his collar choking him, but he soon started shouting again.

“He’s killing people! The barbarian is killing people! First, he destroys a perfectly good house, and now he’s trying to kill me!”

Too loud.

While the other villagers had turned pale and either ran or collapsed in fear, the chief kept shrieking.

He must have been furious over the damaged house.

Gripping the chief, I walked into the thick dust.

“Someone help! Please, save me! You there, help me! The barbarian is killing people! Ahhhh! I put those expensive stones in there, and now they’re ruined. If I’d known, I’d have bought cheaper ones. I’m going to file a complaint! I’m going to report this to the guild! If you think I’ll just stay quiet, you’re sorely mistaken! I’ll get every coin I’m owed, I swear!”

“...”

Wait a minute, if he complains to the guild, am I going to have to pay for the damages?

I needed to think this through.

‘If it turns out the guy I just killed was innocent, I could be in serious trouble.’

All I could do was hope my instincts had led me right.

I was certain—at least, mostly.

Just a tiny bit of doubt lingered.

The man hit by the axe lay amidst the dust and rubble.

Seeing his face, I let out a sigh of relief.

His face, in just that brief moment, had turned half-black.

“Poison…”

It seemed the chief misunderstood my muttered words.

“Aaaah! Oh, no! The barbarian used poison! He used poison!”

The chief’s shouting escalated into hysteria.

How could anyone interpret the situation like that?

Anyway, it seemed the chief and the village were in the clear.

‘But what about all those strange behaviors?’

There was still something going on with the villagers.

What it was, I still had no idea.