No to Being the Suffering Heroine!

Kwaaaang!

At the edge of the slums stood an old pub. The door of this relatively intact establishment was shattered to pieces by a swift kick.

“What the hell! Is it another junkie?!”

“If you’re on drugs, just lay down and sleep it off…!”

In the swirling dust, the pub, which had fallen silent for a moment, erupted into chaos like a market square the next instant.

Before even bothering to glance my way, they just spewed out insults aimed at the junkie.

It seemed that the only the door had been left in pristine condition because these junkies had been kicking it in every day, causing all kinds of mayhem.

Well, considering they were the ones cooking and selling the drugs, it was the classic case of reaping what you sow.

“Third-ranking executive of Abandon. Jack Whale, right?”

I strolled into the pub and addressed the man smoking cheap leaf tobacco at the innermost table.

To Jack Whale, who was about the third-tier executive of Abandon.

“Uh? Who the hell is this chick? Do you even know where you are right now…?”

Throwing his cigarette to the henchman sitting next to him, Jack Whale slowly rose to his feet.

His slightly dull golden hair, brown eyes. Despite being a product of the slums, he stood at just over 180 cm tall.

His body was adorned with scars, showcasing quite the muscular build, and a snake tattoo snaked from the back of his hand to his shoulder.

Perhaps because of the piercings under his eyes and by his ears, he had the appearance of a blond punk who had been fermenting for a good ten years.

“Jack Whale. Twenty-nine years old. Whale isn’t a family name; it’s a nickname. Originally from the second district of the slums. His wife’s name is Annie. He has a three-year-old daughter named Lucy while running an inn at Fountain Square at the age of twenty-seven, right?”

“…Wait, seriously, who the hell are you? Where did you hear all that?!”

As I rattled off his personal details, the carefree smile on Jack’s face quickly turned to ice.

“Your little brothers told me. They all really love their ‘big brother,’ huh? They know everything from your food preferences to your family matters.”

When I asked how he knew so much, he casually explained that he had been gathering information on him, planning to toss him aside someday.

If he knew where I lived and my weaknesses, it was clear what he had in mind.

When you think about it, I was actually the lifesaver for his family.

“Those bastards dare…!”

Jack’s expression darkened into a fierce rage as he realized that his wife and daughter could have been in serious trouble at the hands of his own henchmen.

“You don’t need to worry too much. They’re ‘still’ safe. If you cooperate well enough, you might just make it out of this alive too.”

Drawing my sword, I advanced toward him.

The drunken patrons who had come in to enjoy their cheap drinks hurriedly retreated to the corners, shouting curses, while the members of Abandon kicked their chairs away and stood up to confront me.

“So, who the hell are you? Do I have to ask three times?!”

Jack Whale held out his left hand to stop his henchmen and asked for my name and affiliation.

“From the sounds of you, you seem like one of ‘them,’ but you can’t be from the Piacere gang, can you? Those guys only wear those dull uniforms. Then you must be from a guild, right?”

These punks all seemed to have this obsession with figuring that out first.

It reminded me of gangsters back in the old world. Was there an unwritten rule among criminal organizations to figure out someone’s backing first?

If you don’t have a strong backing, you get killed, but if you do, they’ll grovel and beg for mercy?

“Shadow of the Eagle, Krimhilde.”

I casually responded since there was no real reason to hide it. I doubted this street punk knew the name of my organization anyway.

“Shadow of the Eagle…? Ah, those idiots who got crushed by Bagest and ran away?”

Oh, he knew.

It seems the rumors of our total beatdown had spread widely. Even this petty criminal knew about it.

“What a joke. What are those cowards hoping to gain by crawling back after running away like dogs?”

Maybe he’d convinced himself that without any backing, I was an easy target. Jack openly mocked me as he drew a weapon from his waist.

A dark steel blade glinted ominously, resembling a butcher’s knife the size of his forearm.

“Why, did you think we look easy to deal with compared to those beasts?”

“Why’re you asking when you already know?”

With that piece of junk posing as a weapon, he really looked like he thought he was tough. Did he think he could pierce my armor with that?

“…Kill him!”

As soon as Jack gave the command in a huff, the beggars who had been waiting for a moment sprang at me all at once.

They looked a bit more organized than the ones I’d encountered before, but they were still nothing more than riffraff with nowhere to go but the slums.

Except for the one semi-impressive executive, they were just a pack of losers who would turn into meat patties without even a troll showing up.

“You guys are the ones who jumped me first?”

I grinned as I charged toward them.

◆◆

Three minutes later, the slums lost a single pub.

It wasn’t my fault, but rather the shoddy construction of those fly-by-night builders. Who knew just breaking a few pillars would lead to such a collapse?

Fortunately, there were no additional casualties.

The innocent patrons screamed and bolted outside as soon as the knife fight started.

Sure, some idiots got crushed among the ruins, turning into jerky, but they were already doomed to die from the get-go.

In the midst of the horrific sight of blood mixing with meat slices flowing out from the gaps in the broken wood and stone, only one member of the organization remained.

“What… kind of monster are you…?”

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t have jumped me. Your men just bit the dust for nothing.”

Jack Whale was left as a cripple, unable to stand properly with both arms broken and one leg nearly severed.

“Did I… lose in strength…?”

Did he really think he wouldn’t? Dream on!

“Is this what they call being a frog in a well? A three-year-old troll might be stronger than you.”

The only damage they did to me was a little tear in my cloak. Even Jack, the self-proclaimed executive, hadn’t left a single scratch on me.

The moment his full-force strike failed to leave even a dent in my armor, the expression on his face was a masterpiece.

– Did my ‘troll-slaying’ fail?! What the hell is that armor?!

– What ‘slaying’? Have you even fought a troll before?

Just thinking about it made me want to laugh. This fool never even encountered a troll and yet he had the gall to brag like a kingdom knight.

◆◆

Jack Whale knew a lot. At least more than the low-level executives.

Since his kickbacks to the boss were so hefty, he had been granted the favor of receiving a pub as a reward, being a third-tier executive.

Maybe that was why he felt a sense of loyalty, albeit imperfect.

“Ugh, Khhh…! The big boss, Furb, is… at Fountain Square… 6th street… in a three-story mansion…”

Five fingers, to be exact.

“Finally, your mouth is opening a bit. It would’ve been great if you did this earlier. If you had, your left hand would still be intact.”

I grinned as I crushed the five fingers I had ripped off. I added that he should consider it mercy that I left his right hand intact.

“I…! My left hand, is a treasure! You damn bitch…!”

“Oh, really? My bad. You should’ve spoken up sooner. Before I pulled your fingers out.”

“Grrr…!”

Jack glared at me, his face full of frustration and pain. I noticed he was a bit pale, probably because I hadn’t stopped the bleeding from his leg.

Leave him be, and he’d soon be dead.

“Go die, you damn whore…!”

Well, whether this punk died or not was none of my concern.

“Next question. There’s a beastgirl with gray hair and blue eyes, wolf ears. You know who that is? Probably going by the name Ashel.”

“Ashel…? No way, are you talking about that crazy dog Ashel…?”

“Yeah, that’s her.”

I nodded.

Ashel Kazaar.

Known as the rabid dog of the sewers for her rough personality and cruel hand… she was a key candidate for the ally I wanted to recruit, the one I was turning this slum upside down to find.

“Do you know where she is? You guys must have caught her and sold her as a slave.”

In the original story, she had been living as a mercenary who fought for money until Abandon tricked her and sold her into slavery.

The reincarnator had stormed the slave auction, rescuing her and accepting her as a companion.

Having been called a rabid dog, Ashel had eventually grown to be grateful to the reincarnator who saved her, accepting them into her life.

‘Then she probably gave them her heart along with her guts and liver later on, right?’

On the surface, it seemed to be a straightforward ‘rescue narrative.’

The reincarnator’s genuine love for Ashel, however, had been replaced merely by following a guide from the original game to obtain the trophy heroine.

Well, I couldn’t exactly condemn that. I was doing something quite similar with my own Friede.

Anyway, Jack Whale frowned, tilting his head as if asking why I’d want that crazy girl.

“You sold her as a slave…? What the fuck do you mean—”

Before he could finish his thought, a group of men vaulted over the wall and appeared before us.

There were seven in total. Unlike the riffraff lying around the slums, they were all dressed in decent garments, with chain armor layered over them.

“Didn’t you learn? You can’t just wreck someone else’s business and hide away? What a joke.”

Leading the way was a greasy-haired man in rich clothing that only a wealthy merchant or noble would wear.

With his long and poorly-kept beard, he looked utterly ridiculous in his flabbergasting outfit.

“Boss!”

As soon as Jack Whale spotted him, he struggled to rise, desperate not to show he was half-lying down in front of the boss.

“Hey, hey, I told you again and again to call me Boss, not some chief!”

“I’m, I’m sorry, Boss…!”

The greasy-haired guy shot a glare at Jack, disgusted, as if calling him ‘chief’ made him look lousy.

“…Well, you’ve saved me the trouble of searching.”

Slowly standing up, I focused on the greasy-haired man.

I casually swung the longsword I had been holding, shaking off the blood that clung to the blade along with its remnants.

This executive was now useless.

Before me stood the infamous ruler of the slums, Dan Furb, the man who had gathered the beggars and thieves to form the crime syndicate known as Abandon.

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