Usually, hiring a hunter for work means killing someone, killing a monster plaguing a small village, or saving a little girl from a monster den—human or non-human.

The definition of a monster within the Nightshade Guild can mean many things. It can range from a Chupacabra that drinks the blood of livestock to a piece-of-shit human being who runs a human trafficking ring. Many other guilds outside the walls only take jobs involving anything but killing humans. Living in a medieval fantasy world isn't sunshine and rainbows like the fairytales make it out to be. Somebody has to do the dirty work—people like me—a mutated human, otherwise known as a Scyftan. There isn't much of us since becoming one had a survival rate of one out of fifty children. The Queen also took liberty in slaughtering all the mages who took part in creating them—most knowledge of becoming a Scyftan was lost. Few mages from those days live. The ones that did escape created guilds for Scyftan, eventually welcoming all types of hunters who weren't Scyftan.

The reason why the Queen killed those mages was because there had been a disappearance of children across the country, which had been reported to her. Those children were either kidnapped or baited into becoming Scyftan. Even if the child didn't want to participate in the Mutation Process, they were allowed to leave, but not in the way you think. They were killed because the mages wished to keep the experiments secret from the Queen. The Mutation Process requires forbidden magic—something outlawed since the country's founding.

Since the creation of guilds, a hunter has become a broad term with a specific definition. Hunters are people in guilds who take on missions that get a percentage of the mission pay. To become a hunter, each guild has its physical and mental test requirements to pass. Once you join a guild, you can freely take on missions approved by the guild's leader and get a certain percentage of the payment from the person who requested the hunter.

So, when I saw an infiltration mission flyer on the guild's central billboard for missions, I ripped it off the board to see if it was real. The fact that there was an infiltration mission poster for the Consort Invitational was otherworldly. Who requests a monster hunter—of all people—to infiltrate a soirée for the nobility? I squeeze the flyer in my fist, scoffing at this joke of a mission.

[Quest: Infiltrate the Consort Invitational]

[Do you accept?]

I shove the screen window to the right so it's out of sight. That blue screen that likes to block my view is called a system, something crafted by otherworldly interferences that lie beyond the earth—something more celestial. The system only popped up after I had cursed the world's creator and gone through something traumatic. It congratulated me for completing the 'introduction phase' of this life. The funny thing is that I am stuck in this world, living a second life like some character in an isekai trope. I've read plenty of those comics where the person reincarnated is born into royalty—a load of shit—that gets their happy ending with their prince or the achievement of slaying the demon lord. There is nothing like a demon lord in this world. The real demons are the people in positions of power—the nobility. If you really think about it, both words have their corrupt politicians; the only difference is how they are labeled.

I've learned to accept my situation as it is beyond my control. Whatever entity had transmigrated my soul into this world had a sadistic streak and gave me a system out of pity. The system did nothing but make me do missions and tasks until I reached a certain level—if I didn't, there would be a life-threatening penalty. After reaching level fifty, I was allowed more freedom with the system. My current level is: [74]

The only good thing about this world is that I can freely summon a weapon or item, and people wouldn't bat an eyelash. Few people were capable of using magic, Scyftan being one of them. A lot of technology was run by magic outside the walls, unlike those living within the walls. The people living within the walls were ignorant of what happened outside them. Good luck leaving them unless you were a world leader, royalty, a family heir, part of the military, or something high-ranking. Almost everything in there is imported rather than deported, so that is why I'm questioning whether that infiltration mission was real.

Before deciding whether to take it, I must speak to my guild leader. I go up a few flights of stairs to find his office. I pressed a glowing white dot outside his door to alert him through his magic that I was there. If he didn't answer, I pulled a Sheldon Cooper and knocked on the door, saying his name until he answered.

The doors whisked open without anyone touching them.

"Yes, Donis?" He said, clearly annoyed with me because the mage wasn't even looking in my direction, and his eyes were on the multiple books floating around his head. Sometimes, I wonder if he thinks the world surrounds him.

"What's with this infiltration mission? A noble family requesting a hunter to go inside the walls?" I questioned, knowing all missions given to the guild must be approved by Evol, the mage I'm talking to.

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The mage whisked his finger in the air, and all the books went to their respective place on the bookshelf. "I was hoping you'd see that flyer."

"Of course you did," I drawled sarcastically, slamming it on his desk where he began to sit down. "Why me?"

He gave a condensing look. "Use your brain for once—you're female and a hunter. I don't see any female hunters in this guild besides you."

The other perk of living in a medical world is that women were housewives or pretty objects to forge alliances. Not only does the technology suck, but so do the stereotypes. The only reason why I'm the only female in this guild is because Evol's requirements to let hunters join the guild are ridiculously high—for humans. Every hunter in this guild was something of supernatural origin or a Scyftan. I'm almost starting to think that Evol has something against humans.

The reason why I'm a Scyftan is that nobody thought to bring in a female human child to the Mutation Process because of their beliefs of gender roles—men went to battle so women could tend to the home. I had no vendetta against a woman playing housewife, but I do when people expect you to be one simply because you have a different private part. I'm certain there would have been female Scyftan if people had changed their way of thinking, but I am glad that there isn't because to become one is great. I traded my fertility in exchange for power. The same goes for male Scyftan. It's a matter of equivalent exchange—dark magic's basic law. We traded our ability to give life in order to take them.

"If this involves your vendetta with the Queen, I want no part of it—she's royalty. If I kill a human like that, just think of how many people will be after my ass."

"That's the thing, she's not human."

"I don't care if she's a werewolf, a Chupacabra, or whatever, I'm not gonna be the one who suits her throat."

"I never asked that."

"You never specified either."

There were a lot of things we never saw eye-to-eye on. I knew Evol wanted the Queen dead for slaughtering the mages involved with creating Scyftan. He witnesses their deaths; he was sparred by her because he wasn't directly involved with everything. His role had been to assist the mages and do what they say—like someone handing a scalpel to the surgeon.

"You've never argued with me before."

"That's because you didn't let revenge cloud your mind."

"I'll kick you out of the guild," he threatened.

This mission was his opportunity to get into the walls and get close to the Queen because of the Consort Invitational. Either he wanted me to slit her throat or spy on her.

I smiled devilishly. "We both know I have a second home within the walls, and they take almost anyone in. Besides, do you really want to kick out one of the few Scyftans left to exist?"

"You mean the red-light district? Good luck becoming a whore with all those scars on your back."

"Do not bring that up again," I warned. "Just because I was born from the legs of a whore doesn't mean you get to criticize them for work they were sold into—most didn't have a choice. I had no choice but to become who I am now."

"Treasach brought you here so you didn't have to live like a whore."

"He brought me here because he saw what I had done to the man who tried to have his way with me. It was either that or rot in a jail cell because the man killed was nobility," I argued.

Kill a noble and be jailed for life, regardless of age.

I was born in a brothel in the slums of the grand dukedom and lived a life training to become like my mother; a man mistook me as one of the shadier brothels who offered children to patrons and lost his life when he tried to touch me. Being from a world where I had never taken a life changed my outlook on reality. Treasach saw the bloody mess, took pity, and offered a different life by buying me from the brothel. I didn't know that it was to become a Scyftan. If I had known what that life entailed, I'd rather rot in a jail cell than go through those mutations again. There was no point in blaming Treasach because he had been in a similar situation. The people I blamed were dead, and I saw no point in taking revenge on the one left alive. Many had assisted the senior mages, not knowing what they were being trained for. If they didn't like what they were being taught, they were killed because they didn't want their whereabouts getting relayed back to the Queen.

"In exchange for information about the Queen, I'll give you 95% of the mission's pay," he offered.

"How much?"

"10,000 gold coins—"

"Deal, as long as I don't have to kill her."

With that much money, I could retire. I could live normally in comfort.

"Perfect," Evol said, snapping his fingers so that a piece of paper under other mission papers could fly into my hand. "Those are the coordinates where the client will meet you in order to smuggle you into the walls."

I pocket the paper into my trousers, walking up to the desk with one last request. "I want a contract made out about the pay—a magical one—so that you can't back out your promise.

He cocked an eyebrow. "Seriously? When have I ever lied to you?"

"Just make the contract."

One incantation later, the contract terms were made on a scroll from Evol's spatial magic, a concept similar to my inventory granted by the system.

[Do you accept this contractual agreement?]

[Yes or No]

I mentally tap Yes. The nice thing about the system is that it is exclusive to me, acting like a computer inside my brain.

I followed the instructions given to me to perform a magical signature. Biting my thumb, I place my blood on the scroll next to my name, written in the Ioroian language of the earliest mages who created the language to cast magic. The language served as a conductor for magical spells.

"Cet, Donis, tral fo otuis."

Evol rolled up the contract, putting it back into his spatial magic portal before returning to work.

"At least I know that my retirement fund can't be taken from me," I noted aloud to get a riot out of the mage.

I bet he has never heard of Scyftan retiring.

"Excuse me—"

I slam the door behind me.