Chapter 4: The Art of Fencing the Loot
The following night
The moon floated over Lugunica like an old coin. Neither pretty nor ugly—just like everything else in this kingdom.
It still surprises me to find a moon in this world. When you're in an *isekai*, the least you expect is to see three suns—like on Tatooine—or no moon at all. This world isn't Earth.
The lights in the slums were dim, flickering as if struggling to stay lit. Someone has to pay the electric bill, after all.
Felt walked with her hands in her pockets. Her light, springy gait made the shadows dance in time with her ponytail. She kept hopping off the walls; she seemed restless. Rom followed behind, carrying a barrel that would have crushed any other man.
And me? Well, I was just trying not to look like the rookie of the group, even though my legs were shaking on the inside. Today's heist was nothing compared to my old jobs. This was an intermediate-level gig—trickier than usual.
Felt was inside the barrel, per Rom's orders. Yeah, I know it's a cliché, but we had to give it a shot. If it worked for that rubber pirate, why not for us?
"So, the target is a caravan from the Magic Merchants' Guild," I muttered.
"Exactly," Felt said without turning her head. "Rich bastards who think they're untouchable. They're hauling magic crystals and minor artifacts. Nothing wrong with people like us getting our hands on that stuff."
"'People like us.' I love how you say that—like being a thief is a legitimate profession."
"It is—if you survive long enough to make a name for yourself and sink your teeth into a juicy steak," Felt replied with a grin that was half pride, half defiance.
Rom let out a low growl.
"Enough talk. We're almost there." We made our way along the streets, which stretched out like scars—so battered and neglected were they. The slums were so abandoned it felt like a *nahual* might spring out at any moment.
The lower streets of Lugunica's commercial district always reeked of stale bread, metallic rust, and the palpable fear of the locals. It was the kind of fear you feel when you know that one wrong step could lead to someone stomping on your head just to steal your shoes, your backpack, or the classic "you know the drill: phone and wallet." Well, I'd like to think it wasn't quite like that here.
That night, the air hung heavy—not with fog or magic, but with the tension that filled the space.
At that hour, only beggars and drunken merchants remained; windows were shut tight as we passed. No one wanted to know what we were up to. In Lugunica, ignorance was a form of respect—a way to live in peace.
We stopped behind an abandoned cart. From there, we could see the guild's warehouse: a large, boxy building guarded by armed men who looked more bored than alert.
Sounds familiar, doesn't it? What is this—my magical Mexico? Latin America? Where have I heard this before... hmm.
Felt crouched down and sketched a small map in the dirt with the tip of her knife.
"Hey, Ice-Cat," she murmured, barely turning her head. "You sure you've got it all straight?"
"First off: I told you not to call me that. But yeah," I said, adjusting my cloak. "You distract the guards in the alley, Rom lifts the gate, and I grab the chest before the guild boss notices. Easy."
"No heist is 'easy,' kid," Rom growled, lowering his voice. "If things go sideways, you run. Don't try to play the hero."
Yeah, sure... but saying it was easier than doing it. The target was a merchant caravan belonging to the magic crystal distributors' guild. It was one of the few shipments not guarded by knights, but rather by cheap mercenaries. Ideal for a quick heist... in theory.
"Listen, say it one last time: who are we dealing with?"
"Those armed men are mercenaries from a group called the Order of Od Laguna."
"Those guys are lunatics. They aren't the Witch's Cult; they worship some other shitty god, like the Dragon. Let's shatter their illusions and make off with a few silver coins."
"Witch's Cult? What's that?"
"It's a bad joke... What do you mean, you don't know? I'll explain later, kid."
The alley where we were hiding smelled of bitter ale and rotting garbage. From there, I could see the guild's main building: a sort of square warehouse with two doors and a balcony where a potbellied guy was smoking nonchalantly.
"Alright," Felt whispered. "As soon as the fat guy goes inside, we move. Rom, you know what to do."
The giant nodded. With a slight movement of his shoulder, he snapped the padlock on the back door. Not a sound. Not a creak of metal. He had the precision of a sniper.
"Inside, quick," Rom said.
Felt slipped away like a shadow; I followed, trying not to make noise with my shoes.
The warehouse smelled of cheap incense and damp wood. It was clearly the work of religious fanatics—the annoying kind. I remembered going through something similar at my local church: shouting and blasphemy, the stench of fish and alcohol. Later on, I heard rumors that the priest might have been a pedophile. I got lucky; maybe that's why I never liked being in church.
Not to mention those two bastards... I still can't believe that son of a bitch Cedric and that fucker Reed stabbed me. I wonder what they're up to now, knowing I changed my route.
There were chests lined up in three rows. One of them—according to the info Felt had gotten from a drunk—held raw magic crystal shards, which were highly valuable on the black market.
"Third row, fourth chest," Felt said, stepping closer with a faint light illuminating us. "We open it, grab what we can, and get the hell out."
I crouched down, pulled out a small pick I'd improvised from a hairpin (yes, one of Felt's damn hairpins), and inserted it into the lock.
"Do you know how to do that?" she asked, crossing her arms.
"I watched a lot of lock-picking videos online and did this with candy machines," I replied without thinking.
"What are 'online' and 'machine'?"
"Nothing, forget it."
The click was soft but distinct. I opened the chest, and the light caught the bluish gleam of the magic crystals.
"They look like jewels, and they're worth way more than my life."
"They're worth more than all three of our lives," Felt added. "We're definitely going to make a fortune."
"Come on, stuff everything you can into the bag and dump it in the barrel." We both grabbed heaps of *metias* and magic crystals, trying to empty the chest completely. We looked like raccoons from some average cartoon back in my world—funny and hilarious to hear about, but dangerous in practice.
But fate, as always, decided to get creative. Footsteps echoed from the hallway outside. Several of them. Heavy ones.
And a gruff voice said:
"I heard something in the storeroom! Come on, hurry!"
Damn.
Rom turned toward us, frowning.
"Take what you can. I'll hold them off."
Before we could protest, the giant grabbed an empty barrel and hurled it against the wall, creating a massive crash. The door burst open, and three guards rushed in.
"There he is! The giant from the slums!"
Rom gave a lopsided grin.
"Just like the old days..."
As the guards tried to surround him, Felt shoved me.
"Come on, Kino! Out the window!"
We jumped through a small opening that led to a side alley. We landed on some crates, rolled, and kept running. Rom's shouts echoed behind us—the sounds of blows, splintering wood, and the roar of the giant working his magic without using any magic.
We ran a fair distance before Felt stopped dead in her tracks.
"Wait, the path to the bazaar is blocked! Let's take the side bridge!"
The bridge was narrow and slippery, paved with old, creaking planks. Below, Lugunica's drainage canal smelled of anything but clean water. Halfway across, an arrow whizzed past my ear.
"We're being followed!" I shouted.
Felt drew a knife and hurled a stone with surgical precision; it struck the archer square in the forehead.
"And now we aren't," she said with a grin.
We reached the far side of the bridge and turned into a narrow alley. My heart was pounding like a drum. I couldn't tell if I was exhilarated or on the verge of collapse.
Rom caught up with us minutes later, covered in dust and wearing a proud smile.
"Heh... the old bones have still got it."
Felt looked at him with a mix of pride and annoyance.
"You had us worried, old man."
"And you made me run, brat. We're even."
I sat on the ground, breathing heavily. The bag of crystals was still intact. The three of us fell silent for a moment, listening only to the distant sounds of the night market. It wasn't the first time we'd done this; we'd been at it for weeks.
Not just surviving... but winning.
But deep down, something nagged at me. This wouldn't last; it was only temporary. It's something everyone tells themselves, but in our situation, it was impossible to deny. Every heist was riskier, every score bigger, every danger greater. Rom was getting old, Felt relied too much on her speed, and I... well, I barely knew what the hell I was doing.
And right there, as the two of them rested, I felt something new stirring inside me. Not just adrenaline, but caution and calculation. A small voice telling me: "This worked, but it could have gone better."
I began to mentally review everything we'd done wrong: the timing, the route, the distraction. There were holes in the plan, and if we wanted to stay alive, we had to fill them. "Hey, Kino," Felt said, wiping her hands. "You've got that look again. The one you get when you're planning something stupid."
"It's not stupid," I said, "but it is dangerous."
"Uh-huh. Spit it out."
"We need more people."
"More? Aren't my legs and Gramps's muscles enough for you?"
"Not this time. If we keep going like this, one of us isn't coming back from the next heist. Did you see all the weapons those bastards were using? They probably didn't use magic because it would've ruined the goods we were after."
Rom opened one eye.
"He's not wrong. Every job gets bigger, and luck runs out eventually, kid."
"Tch..." Felt clicked her tongue. "And where are you going to find 'more people'? There aren't many folks in the slums with quick fingers and a brain."
"We need more hands to fill the bags fast; we need a lookout—we can't rely on Mr. Rom all the time. We need someone else who can fight, because if we get caught, the two of us won't make it out alive, Felt." I smiled, feigning confidence. "I'll look around. There are people living worse than us. Thieves, ex-soldiers, disgraced mages... people with nothing to lose."
Felt crossed her arms, looking at me curiously.
"You talk as if you were putting together a gang."
"Actually, that doesn't sound like a bad idea."
I've been thinking about it for a long time, and I've memorized various things that happen on the streets of Lugunica for that very reason. I've come up with a list of people we could get on our side.
"So, kid, what do you have in mind?" Rom asked. "Because even though you can use magic, you need to improve. I'm not saying you're useless, but my limited knowledge isn't enough. Maybe if my partner were here, she could teach you, but she fell in battle."
"Was she a giant?"
"No, an elf. An old comrade-in-arms; she died years ago," Rom said with a touch of nostalgia and melancholy. "Besides, even though the staff is a good melee weapon—I tested it out on some crates and wood, after all..."
"Ouch... and on me..." Felt rubbed her head, remembering the blow Rom had dealt her for disobeying an order.
"Ahem... and the little bit of help I gave you with that magic won't hold up if we face other mages. The staff is useful, but it's nothing compared to a bladed weapon like a spear, a dagger, or a knife."
"Mr. Rom, could you help me find a magic teacher? I want to master my magic."
"I'll try, but I can't promise anything. It's hard to find people willing to teach, especially when you're broke."
*Grumble...*
"Oh, if your stomach is empty..."
"Haha. It's not funny. I'm starving, Kino!"
"Mr. Rom, is this enough to stock up on food?"
"Yes, but if we don't want to draw the authorities' attention, we'd better be discreet with the crystals. You'll have to hold out until tomorrow; maybe a small heist could secure what we need."
Money laundering. That must be it. Rom's caution is the wisest course of action here. We don't want to attract ill-intentioned people or any nosy guards.
"Mr. Rom, could we use a bit of the money?"
"No, kid. It's better to save it for an emergency; besides, that's your money. That money isn't our business."
"I insist—you've done so much for me these past few weeks, and I think it would be nice to eat something that isn't dried out."
"Hmm, I wish it were that simple, but nobody sells food like that in this kingdom."
Even if that's what she's asking for, I don't want to see Felt go hungry. She's a growing girl who needs food so she doesn't stay small. Tomorrow, after the heist, I'll look for food and a good teacher. And, of course, I'll look for recruits for our own well-being.
We headed back to the slums, moving more cautiously this time.
The bags were empty; we'd dumped all the crystals into the barrel Rom was carrying. It's still a shame we couldn't pull off the "person-in-the-barrel" trick again. I'd wanted to try it.
Putting my fantasies aside, we stashed the loot in the warehouse. I helped Felt move the furniture and helped Rom quickly arrange the barrel of *metias* and magic stones.
"The one part of this job I hate..." Felt was breathing heavily, trying to catch her breath after helping carry several of the containers. We ended up separating the *metias* into a chest and the magic stones into the barrel.
"Ha, tired already from so little?"
"I'm not tired, I'm bored!" Felt shouted, baring her teeth.
"Meh, it's no big deal. These things are huge; it'd be worse if they were tiny—*then* I'd understand not wanting to do it."
"Damn it, this never ends!"
"How's it going over there?" Rom turned to look at us while moving things around to make room for the new acquisitions.
"All set. We've got our part sorted out." —Alright, sit down; dinner is served.
Fruit pastries sat on the table. The food, though somewhat misshapen, looked appetizing; the meal was sure to be delicious.
The three of us sat down to eat. Felt bit into a still-hot fruit pastry and burned her mouth, yet she kept eating because it was so delicious. Rom, for his part, used a fork to portion out large servings onto the plates.
I had taught them how to make this recipe. It was just a matter of stealing the ingredients, scraping together some money, and... ta-da! A delicious dessert, just like the ones my mother used to make. We might be poor, but we've got class. Ha, who would've thought—my cooking skills have ensured we eat well.
—Mr. Rom, now that we're free of that other mess... do you know anyone around here we can trust? I'm serious; we need to find more people to help us.
—Hmm... —Rom rested his hand on his chin—. Define "people we can trust." Finding folks like that in these slums is like finding a needle in a haystack.
—Yeah, I know. I'm not asking for much—just people who are docile and easy to deal with. People who won't kill—cowards, really; no violence, just quick and cunning.
Felt, without stopping her meal, leaned over and gave me a friendly punch on the arm:
—Oh, bro, you're asking for miracles. In a sewer like this, people would kill each other for a crust of bread. You and the old man are enough. The three of us are all we need. —She smiled with her mouth full, not caring a bit about table manners.
—I wish that were true, but if we want to pull off bigger jobs...
—We have a saying on the streets of Lugunica: everyone's on their own. Besides, trusting the wrong people just leads to backstabbing—and you could end up dead in the gutter like a stray dog. But there *are* some guys who fit your description; they're bad-tempered and always stick together. It could be trouble, but if you keep practicing your magic using the few pointers I gave you, it might just work. Now, we need to get ready to make sure things go the way we want.
Dinner at the bazaar went on, the atmosphere warm and a stark contrast to the cold streets of Lugunica. A meal on the table and the campfire were all I needed right then to keep my mind off how to get back to my own world.
Days later
The murmurs of the capital mingled with the noise of footsteps and voices. The city was so packed I could barely walk without brushing against someone with a tail or pointed ears. Humans who, in essence, felt more like animals—or "furries," to be specific. I still wasn't used to it, and I didn't think I would be anytime soon. It was simply hard to process, even after all this time.
I walked along wearing my jacket, my plan already set. Felt was following me from the rooftops, ready to step in if anything went wrong.
We'd tried a few heists—some successful, others disastrous. But it's better to steal discreetly than to end up in a cell over an orange. And after seeing the bathrooms in this kingdom, I'd lost all hope for their hygiene. God, I almost threw up. They were worse than the bathrooms at my public high school. And that's saying something.
Anyway. I'm getting sidetracked again.
I walked toward the spot where the show was supposed to start. And right then, as if fate had read my script:
—Hand over everything you've got.
The gravelly voice cut through the air. Perfect.
Gaston, Camberly, and Ranchi had walked right into the trap. Three thugs—the "bait" Felt had provoked—were mugging them. I appeared behind them with a faint smile.
"So hostile. And here I come in peace."
The thugs turned their heads, confused. The three thieves did the same.
Ranchi was sweating as if he'd been placed over hot coals. Camberly was darting her eyes everywhere, looking for an exit. Gaston was frowning, clearly suspicious... but not quite suspicious enough to figure it out.
Perfect timing. I pulled out my phone.
The three of them recoiled as if I'd drawn a forbidden relic. The glow from the screen hit them right in the face.
"W-what is that?" Camberly murmured.
"An insurance policy," I replied calmly.
I tapped the camera.
FLASH! FLASH! FLASH!
Ranchi squealed like a slaughtered pig.
"D-d-did it hit me?! Gaston, the white light hit me! I'm DEAD! I'm DEAD!"
Gaston smacked him on the head.
"If you were dead, you wouldn't be screaming, you moron!"
I sighed, weary.
"Relax, I didn't kill you. I just... marked you."
All three of them went pale.
"M-marked... how?" Gaston asked, swallowing hard.
"With a tracking spell," I lied without hesitation. "If you betray me, this device vibrates, and I'll know exactly where you are—even if you run to the other side of the world."
My phone vibrated—a weather notification I hadn't checked that had just triggered on its own; one of those typical phantom notifications. It worked out perfectly.
The three of them jumped so high they nearly hit the ceiling. Up above, Felt was about to burst out laughing.
"D-does it vibrate if someone... if someone thinks about betraying you?" Ranchi asked, trembling.
I nodded nonchalantly.
"Exactly. So you'd better cooperate."
Silence. Finally, Gaston lowered his head.
"All right... We'll work with you. But put that thing away, please."
Camberly had gone pale. Ranchi was already praying for his soul. I put the phone away.
"So, from today on... we're allies."
All three of them gulped at the same time, as if they'd just sold their souls to someone worse than the cult.
"It's not a threat; it's a recommendation... You're hired, by the way."
"Seriously? That's it?"
"Take your pick: that, or having your dicks fall off?"
"AH!"
None of the three men put up a fight. The poor fools fell for the oldest trick in the book. I remember very well how, back in my world—in the old days—people feared cameras because they thought they stole your soul; even today, some still believe it. The beliefs of morons.
"Good. Now stay right there while I talk to my partner. And by the way: if you leave this spot, the curse will activate. So, think twice if you don't want to lose your appendages."
"AHHHHH!"
The trio's shrill screams rang out at the top of their lungs across the streets of Lugunica. They bowed as if they were in Japan—out of respect, sure, but also out of sheer terror at the empty threats I'd thrown at them.
"Looks like the trick worked. Even I didn't expect that," Felt said, hopping down.
"I told you, I've got tricks up my sleeve."
"But seriously, can that gadget actually do that? Rip off limbs or steal souls?"
—I told you, I've got tricks up my sleeve.
—But seriously, can that device really do that? Rip off limbs or steal souls?
—What, does it scare you? Nope, quite the opposite: it just dazzles with the little light it emits; it doesn't hurt or steal anything. It's only good for seeing in the dark—aside from that, it's pretty useless. Though it does make for a decent improvised pair of binoculars using the camera. Better than nothing, I guess.
—That's a relief. I was starting to worry you were carrying a weapon that powerful while hanging out with us.
—You're exaggerating. Believe me, it was just a bluff to get you to cooperate without complaining and keep you from jumping us like rabid dogs later on.
—Don't turn into one of those idiots who use fear to make a name for themselves. There are already enough of them in this shitty kingdom. —Felt looked at me with a serious, worried expression. She didn't like what I'd done.
If this were a visual novel, a message like [Felt will remember this] would probably pop up.
—Relax, it's completely harmless. Let me show you real quick. —I stepped behind Felt, put my arms around her shoulders, and pointed the phone at us.
—I'm serious, don't be an asshole.
*Click!*
—AHH! ARE YOU CRAZY?!
—Look, here I am, and there you are. This is a way we save memories—they're called photographs. We store moments in this device—what you call a *metia*, but is actually called a cell phone.
—AHH! WHAT DID YOU DO?!
—Felt, sis, look—don't be scared, just look at this. If it were actually a weapon, do you think I would've fired it at myself, too? Besides, look: it's both of us. It's a memory. Most people back in the kingdom I come from use them to remember their most fun, moving, and happy moments.
—Oh... That's me. That's great; it's amazing.
—I know. It's an advancement from my world.
—It seems my brother is a lot less cold than he looks.
—Meh... I just thought I'd better explain it so you wouldn't get scared like a lion cub. Ugh, that slipped out.
—Hahaha. There's the funny brother I know.
—Don't laugh; I looked like a startled cat when the camera flash went off.
I don't know when it happened, but for a moment, that girl who would steal without batting an eye looked just like a child playing house.
—By the way, what the hell is a lion?
Shit, that was a bad comparison. For starters, why do Lugunica's flags feature a lion if they don't exist in this world? I remember asking Rom about the flag, and he said he didn't know either; he just said it was probably a thing for rich men—nobles or the elite.
—Oh, about that... It's a cat—only more powerful, big, and strong—that commands respect.
—WOW! So I'm that big? That shit is awesome!
—I said *lion cub*. You haven't reached that height or maturity yet.
—GRRR! I am *not* small! I'm fifteen!
—Don't lie; you're fourteen. Rom already told me. Hahahaha.
The tavern's din almost drowned out the creak of the door opening, but not enough to hide Rom's reaction. His eye narrowed, and his hand dropped—almost out of habit—toward the club that was always kept a little too close to the table.
Three nervous shadows entered first. Ranchi stumbled over the doorframe, Camberly swiveled her neck like a paranoid owl, and Gaston gulped as if swallowing ground glass. And then, Felt and I walked in. "...What did you do this time, shorty?" Rom growled without getting up from where he was drinking root beer from a mug. It seemed we had interrupted the old giant's moment of bliss.
Felt crossed his arms, puffing out his chest as if trying to make himself look two meters tall.
"Not me. *Him*." He pointed at me as if I were responsible for a fire, when all I'd done was gain a quick and useful advantage.
"I just convinced them." I moved my hands with all the peace and serenity in the world, as if I existed on a completely different plane of reality.
Ranchi raised his hand, as if he were in class.
"I'd say he threatened to rip our limbs off!"
"With a magical rectangle of white light," added Camberly—the dwarf—trembling.
"And he said it vibrates whenever someone thinks about betrayal," Ranchi whispered. The tavern fell silent enough for the murmur to be heard clearly.
Rom raised an eyebrow.
"It vibrates when... what?"
I pulled my cell phone from my pocket as casually as if I were showing off a set of keys. The three thieves recoiled as if it were a nuclear device.
Ranchi, Camberly, and Gaston sat at a table, stiff as boards, afraid to touch their drinks lest they trigger who-knows-what kind of "technological curse." Felt strode ahead confidently, dragging her small sack of coins with exaggerated satisfaction.
Rom was wiping down a mug, but his gaze—that look of an old dog weary from having seen it all three times over—locked onto me instantly. Those who know the streets recognize the streets. Those who have survived betrayal can smell a lie before they even see it. Rom didn't say a word yet, but his eyes were like knives.
I felt that involuntary pang: the sensation of being sized up. Of standing once again before an adult who measures your existence by your usefulness.
Felt spoke first:
"Rom! We've got three more!" she said with almost childlike excitement. "They're dim-witted, but obedient. And this trick..."—she pointed a thumb at Kino—"...worked like a charm."
Rom slowly set down the mug.
"Uh-huh. I see."
A single growl from him was enough to send the three recruits nearly tumbling to their knees. I raised an eyebrow. Wow—even I didn't have that kind of power back in high school. Well... except with the math teacher, whom I blackmailed after catching him with a student. I took advantage of that moron, thinking it would guarantee me a passing grade; I kept quiet for a while to bump my score from a 6 to a 10, then reported him anonymously. He was expelled; the old lecher was kicked out of the school. He deserved it. It came as no surprise to learn he was an abuser—a piece-of-shit adult. Rom turned toward the thieves:
"You three, to the storeroom. There are boxes that need stacking. If you break one, I'll break your bones."
He didn't repeat himself. He didn't have to. They vanished like rats spotting a predator that had marked them for the hunt.
Felt stayed at the counter. Rom poured two drinks: milk for Felt and a beer for me—even though I'm not much of a beer drinker.
Only then did he speak:
"Felt, go to the back room for a moment. I want to talk to Kino."
Felt hesitated—which was rare; she never hesitated.
"Rom... if this is about the trick..."
"Felt," he said—his tone paternal but firm—"please."
She pursed her lips. She looked at me, narrowing her eyes as if to say, "Don't do anything stupid," and walked away.
When the door closed, Rom poured another drink but didn't take a sip.
"I know how to spot someone who intimidates without lifting a finger," Rom said bluntly. "You did that today."
I adjusted my jacket and shoved my hands into my pockets. Rom stared hard at me.
"That's not magic, is it?"
"No," I replied curtly. "Just a harmless little lie. It worked, didn't it?"
Rom leaned toward me.
"What do you and that device of yours stand to gain from Felt? How deep do your intentions go?"
I studied him closely. My mind worked on three levels: psychological, practical, and emotional. He wasn't an enemy... but he wasn't a fool, either. I decided to answer in the way that was both most honest and most deceptive: the edited truth.
"Playing fair never worked where I lived. I learned to manipulate when others were better at it. I learned to steal when necessity moved faster than morality. When my gut growled, I'd just take food from the stalls. Or the shops, really. It was just a phase, sure, but my brother and family were starving; so I didn't give a shit about the rules and took advantage of the fact that there were no cameras back then. Free bread and chips—the easiest things to grab and run with unseen."
Rom stared at me without blinking. I went on:
"Felt is smart. She just needs someone who thinks two steps ahead. That's me. Nothing more, nothing less. She's a kid; she needs to eat. I'm not doing this out of selfishness, if that's what you're thinking."
Rom rested his massive hand on the bar—heavy as a wrecking ball.
"She doesn't need a savior."
"I know, but we all need something in our stomachs to stay alive."
A heavy silence fell between us. Finally, Rom took a drink. Then he said:
"You're dangerous."
"Only to those who play dirty," I replied. "To everyone else, I'm a good partner. Besides, you said it yourself, right? Everyone here looks out for their own skin. Yeah, everyone looks out for themselves, but who protects the kids? I don't know how long that girl's been living like this, but there she is—jumping and running around just to put a meal on the table and help the old man out. That's no life. Like it or not, the good stuff doesn't come for free; sometimes things get dirty and dishonorable if you don't want to end up digging through the trash for scraps."
A lot of people would call that being a degenerate, but no—I don't want to crush people or be the center of attention. I just want to eat a damn loaf of bread now and then, instead of watching others throw it away because they're already full. So, as far as I'm concerned, they can shove their stupid morality up their asses.
Rom let out a slow breath. The old man neither smiled nor frowned; he simply accepted that bitter truth of life in the alleys: no one survives by being entirely good.
"Don't confuse necessity with a permanent excuse," Rom said gravely. "A hungry thief is understandable; a thief who learns to enjoy it stops being a figure of pity and starts becoming a danger. And dangerous things end badly."
"It's not like I think I'm anything special."
"Then I'll give you a warning." Rom set his glass on the bar. "If you hurt her... if your game comes at too high a price... there won't be a trick, a sleight of hand, or a lie that can save you. Because I'm not one of those idiots who gets spooked by the lights."
I held his gaze. And for the first time in a long while, I admitted something without a mask:
"I know. And... I don't want to hurt her either. I just don't want the girl to suffer."
Rom nodded. He sealed the deal with a brief statement:
"Good. There's another job tomorrow. A bigger one."
I raised my glass.
"So, Rom... we're partners."
"No, lad," the old man corrected, serious. "We're responsible for each other. And that's more dangerous than being partners."
I downed the drink—not with pleasure, but with resignation. And I understood something I had long forgotten in my world: when the street adopts you... it never lets go.
A new heist has been planned. But with only weeks to go, I have to do the reconnaissance work. So here I am with Felt, scouting deeper into Lugunica's royal capital. I brought along my meager savings to buy some tasty food and maybe a trinket—something unlike anything from my old world. It also helps maintain the cover that we aren't just thieves; that even though we're from the lowest class, we aren't starving... well, we *are* starving... but not *because* we're low-class.
Thinking that way is actually kind of classist.
The blonde loli and I were walking together, keeping a watchful eye on the streets. Felt looked at the surroundings with a sort of bored indifference, but for me, it was thrilling; I still hadn't quite gotten used to seeing dragon-drawn carts. Though it stings knowing my *isekai* life isn't turning out quite the way I expected.
I mean, I'm not saying I want a harem—that's just greedy—but it would be nice to have a roof over my head or a proper team. The magic here is amazing in its own way, and I won't deny that I LOVE it. It's a damn shame there are no adventurers' guilds! I want to be a powerful mage. Like... Merlin, Gandalf, or Doctor Fate. Come on, is it too much to ask to find a mentor?
I'm limited. I want to improve; conjuring a few icicles or a tiny fireball just doesn't cut it for me. What am I, some RPG newbie? No! I've had to use my wits day in and day out—deciding what to do, what risks to take, and where to draw the line. Being hungry doesn't mean I'm going to be reckless. I'm not that kid playing Pokémon anymore—the one who'd delete non-damaging moves just to load up on raw power. That screws you over in the long run if your Pokémon is under-leveled or if the move simply doesn't match up with a physical or special attack stat.
Without Dragon Dance or Swords Dance, a well-timed Quick Attack is more devastating than Guillotine. It's not about probability; it's about guaranteeing the win. By the way, when am I going to get my dragon? I want to train one. It's the only rare creature I've seen in this world that looks like it could be tamed. Is it too much to ask for a pet like that?
But come to think of it, how would I even keep one? I'd better put that idea aside.
This is my day-to-day life in this new world, in the Kingdom of Lugunica. It's pathetic... I worked so hard in school just to end up on the street—jobless and hungry. The reality of my world isn't any different from this stinking medieval one.
Outside the fancy castles and the capital's market stalls, there's nothing interesting... well, there *is*, but they won't let you in. Those bastard knights won't even let you take a peek inside certain places. I tried once, and they kicked me out like a filthy dog. I don't even bother trying anymore.
I had no idea what was in store for me.
I watched Felt stealthily approaching the food stalls like a lion cub stalking unguarded prey; she was being careful, though—there were too many people around to pull off a theft. It was better to save that for another day. Right now, it was just a recon mission—though I won't deny that, just like her, I was practically drooling over the food. It's only natural.
Felt was eyeing the food hungrily. I walked up to the stall and saw prepared dishes that made my mouth water. Both Felt and I were dying for a bite. They were hearty meat skewers.
"Want one?" I asked her.
"WHAT?! Really? You're not kidding... Yes, yes, yes, I want that meat!"
"Calm down, kid. Mister, give me two meat skewers."
"That'll be 20 coins each," the vendor replied.
40 COINS?!
Are they trying to fleece me? This is the first decent thing I've bought for myself in this world! It looks delicious, though—honestly. Even though it looks like humble fare, I wonder what kind of meat it is: veal, goat, or pork?
I paid for the two meals. With one in each hand, I told Felt to take one of the skewers. She happily grabbed one, opened her mouth wide, and popped the whole skewer in. As for me, I just studied the food on the stick with curiosity, turning it over between my fingers. I took a sniff and then a bite.
"Felt, this is good. What is it?"
The vendor was about to speak, but Felt clamped her hand over his mouth.
"Just eat and don't ask questions; it's better that way."
I slowly tasted the meat on the skewer.
"Hmm, it's good."
I took bigger bites of the skewer until I'd nearly finished it.
"Felt, why didn't you show me this sooner?"
"Do I look like I have money lying around?!" Felt snapped bitterly.
"What? Did I say something wrong? Haha. But seriously, what kind of delicious meat is this?"
"Rat meat."
...
I froze upon hearing that word—the ultimate taboo of squalor: *rat*. There was no doubt about it; this other world lacked both abundance and cleanliness—at least for the poor and the lower class. Still, resigned to my fate, I finished the meal. There was no reason to waste food in my current situation.
"It's not bad... I'd really been craving a decent meal."
Rat meat. Yeah, it was better than nothing...
Weeks later
I can't believe my plan actually worked in the long run. Thanks to those three, our heists have been far more successful. We started with small jobs, like robbing caravans or market stalls. Even though the profits are split among more people now, the total haul has skyrocketed!
We managed it all without violence—just empty threats or ruses, like: "Oh no! You ran over that poor dwarf from Camberly!" We'd pick a fight with the guy while the others robbed him. We didn't need to brawl; we just threatened to ruin them. That dwarf is a better actor than I am; nobody can resist the "you hurt a child" trick. You cause a scene, create a distraction, and leave their wagon vulnerable so the girl can dash in and work her weird magic.
With my magic, my threats are far more convincing than they ever were with just knives and daggers. Everyone runs away when faced with a fireball. Hah, imagine being afraid of a red ball.
With the added distraction, it was easier for Felt and me to lift the money bags from their trouser or coat pockets.
"That actually worked?!" one of them exclaimed.
"Sure did, Piercing."
"Ranchi is the man..."
"Ranchi, got it." I made an obscene gesture with my thumb, which made Felt burst out laughing.
We had arrived at the alley where we'd ambushed our three new accomplices—who were now our fellow street rats.
"I still can't believe it worked... A tomato and some meat bones for a heist. How did we never think of something like that?" Camberly, the short one, mused thoughtfully.
"Gaston, why the hell didn't *you* think of that?" Ranchi snorted angrily, snapping at his burly partner.
"Shut your trap! We almost died because of the target *you* picked!"
"How the hell was I supposed to know he was such a hellish swordsman?"
"Knock it off, you two aren't kids." Felt crossed her legs as she leaned against the alley wall. "That nonsense is in the past; focus on the here and now."
"Well said, Felt—just like I taught you. If we keep this up, we can all run our own operations. The five of us can handle this."
"I'm still not sure," said Ton.
"What? Don't you want money, Chin?"
"OF COURSE I DO! But I'm worried about the guards and the knights."
"Relax, Old Man Rom will handle everything." Felt smiled with all the sassy confidence in the world. "It'll be a piece of cake."
"Alright. But it's time to eat." Gaston let out a loud yawn.
"Fine, go get something to eat—just don't spend too much. Only what's necessary."
"DON'T YOU GO COUNTING MY MONEY!" —Ranchi stormed off toward a food stall with his bag of gold. Gaston followed him to keep him out of trouble.
"Man, what a crazy day. When can I get this filthy stuff off my clothes?" Camberly shook out his grimy garments.
"Wait until they forget about it. Just change your clothes."
"I don't have more than one pair!"
"Well, maybe they'll forget by tomorrow. It all depends on how gullible—or smart—people are."
"They're idiots; they wouldn't tell salt from sugar even if they tasted it." Felt gestured proudly, with a hint of malice.
"Come on, Felt, who'd be dumb enough to confuse the two? You just have to taste them to know which is which."
"In any case, no one would understand these methods."
"Why?" Felt tilted her head.
"It's confidential—an S-rank secret."
"Alright, now that this is over, I'm going to clean this off."
"Camberly, don't forget to put the bandages on to make the accident look convincing."
"But I'm taking this thing off; I reek of shit!"
"So, Ice-Cat, what now? Food or sleep?"
"You guys go ahead; I'm going to explore on my own. I'll just change my disguise."
"Fine, but don't take too long; Rom gets annoyed if he's kept waiting."
"Relax, I know the drill."
"Alright, but don't say I didn't warn you."
"Can we get going, Blondie? I'm hungry," Camberly asked.
"Hold your horses, but stop whining, Shorty."
Ah, Lugunica... The Dragon Kingdom. How I hate this dump.
Aside from the lack of pollution or toxic fumes—like gasoline or firecracker smoke—everything here is plastic and fake. There's so much propaganda about some "Royal Selection." Do those posters show the faces of the future queens? Strange, I know. When I arrived in this world, there was a monarchy in charge, but it seems they all died. How? I honestly don't know. That's all that was revealed; nobody knows exactly how they kicked the bucket. We went from a monarchy to a matriarchy.
Interesting.
I wish I could read the text. It's different from the writing in my world; it's Japanese, but with a different script. I only see four women, but I really hope one of them improves the kingdom's slums.
The posters displayed a rather pretty girl with dark, military-green hair; a redhead clad in red, exuding an air of authority; a silver-haired girl whose face radiated innocence; and—among the four—only one familiar face: Anastasia Hoshin.
I don't know why looking at her vixen-like face on the poster unsettled me... I still don't understand how I ended up here.
I hope they fix this hellish dump. A few touch-ups using the new royalty's "creative mode," and it'll be divine. This landfill can be salvaged, though who knows if things will actually improve or just go from bad to worse.
I walked on, dismayed to see that Lugunica was about to undergo a complete 180-degree turn. Who would have guessed? I ended up living in a country in decline.
"Could I have your attention, please?"
A voice I never expected to hear again...
Still lost in thought, I approached a crowd. I warily observed the scene, and the only faces I recognized were Cedric and Reed. I didn't think twice about checking out what they were up to. The mere sight of them was repulsive... and I didn't like the vibe I was getting. It felt like a needle pressed against my neck—like my life was hanging by a thread all over again.
The Order of Od Laguna... If what Rom said about the Witch Cult didn't sit right with me, knowing what Cedric was capable of in the other timeline made it even worse. The thought alone gave me the creeps. Religious fanatics acting as a cancer within their own faith. That's all I see in these lunatics—people who make your faith hinge on someone who's probably worse than the very devil they rail against.
Yeah, no thanks. I'm out of here; just being near them makes me want to puke. I don't want to lose my ear to these psychotic extremists again.
I was about to walk away when I spotted a silhouette moving behind Cedric and Reed. I couldn't believe it: right there in plain sight, the guy was swiping things from those cultists! Who would be crazy—or brain-dead—enough to pull a stunt like that?
Wait... is that a damn kid?
I knew that if those sick cultists spotted him, they'd tear him to shreds. I touched my own ear, imagining how easily it could be sliced off like butter in a single stroke. That guy didn't want to go through what I'd endured in that failed timeline.
It wouldn't be long before those guys turned around. I have to do something... Come on, legs, move...
My legs were seizing up, and my breathing was racing. I slapped my thighs to snap them out of their trance.
Move, damn it—not now.
Chest, stop pounding like that... just stop. I pressed my palm against my ribcage to try and calm my heart, but it did nothing to shake the terror I felt. My eyes were trembling; I didn't want to watch that kid get killed. "Hail Od Laguna; he is our kind and gentle god..."
"Reed, I don't think this is working. We'd better get going..." Cedric said before one of the cultists turned around.
"Oh, what's this?"
The cultists closed in on me like vultures circling a fresh carcass. I could sense their intent to recruit more believers for their rotten dogma. No one who speaks of love would dare commit such acts—certainly not sane people.
Even if I *could* have listened to them, the truth is, I don't care. I want nothing to do with these lunatics; I wish the earth would just swallow them up and make them vanish... Their presence is repulsive.
"Thanks," I muttered.
They handed me a pamphlet; I tucked it away and walked off—I wasn't about to waste time on all that empty chatter. My only concern was ensuring the kid didn't get caught, so I feigned complete ignorance.
If only it had stayed that way... but no: the fool stared right into my eyes.
I darted my eyes toward the exit to signal him to get lost. The kid just went back to what he was doing and kept stealing things... What an idiot...
As time passed, more people arrived. I hope this doesn't become a regular occurrence... If what Old Rom told me is true, having another sect like the Witch's cultists around doesn't sound good.
Come to think of it... that girl on the poster... doesn't she look just like how people described the Witch of Envy?
Better not to think about that. Honestly, I don't know what to make of that story I was told; it sounds like nothing more than a legend. I'll believe it when I see it with my own eyes.
The kid whose neck I saved from being snapped had apparently vanished... Shit, where'd he go?
My shoulders tensed up; sweat poured off me like a downpour, and my face betrayed an unnatural unease amidst the quiet. I took a breath, trying to calm down. I wasn't about to give them the satisfaction of seeing me like this.
Screw it, I'm out of here. I don't want to deal with this crap.
I took a few steps back and spun around quickly, ready to bolt toward the alleys.
Tsk... why did I even come here?
I could've stayed to eat with the rest of the guys, but no—I just had to be the one trying to be "unique and different." What did I think would happen? That some stranger would pluck me off the streets? That's not how life works!
Why did I do that? Why become an accomplice to some guy I don't even know?
I slapped my forehead; the frustration of getting into trouble yet again was going to cost me my hide.
Damn conscience, shut up.
Maybe I should get something to eat... that might help with the anxiety.
"Hey!"
"AHHHHH!"
Someone interrupted my conversation with myself. I snapped back to reality and... there in front of me was the kid who'd stolen from the cultists.
He was young—maybe younger than me—with blond hair and average height. He looked a bit unkempt and quite malnourished; the latter being a sure sign of living in destitution.
"IT'S YOU!" I exclaimed.
"Hey, comrade."
"What do you mean, 'Hey, comrade'?! Who do you think you are?"
"Hey, you saved my ass. Thanks a million."
"Um, no."
"Yeah."
"No." —Yup!
—Nope!
—Okay, you're shy about it—I get that. But thanks anyway.
—Ahem, yeah, sure... keep dreaming.
—Hey, you're a thief too, right?
...
—I guessed it!
—Kid... that's not the sort of thing you talk about lightly...
—Right, I didn't introduce myself: my name is Ryuzaki.
—Okay, Ryuzaki, watch what you're doing. You're way too impulsive.
—It was a once-in-a-lifetime chance; those religious types had plenty of money.
—Yeah, that's just alms from the gullible. People give money hoping for a blessing, but it's a total scam.
—I really took those rich bastards for a ride.
—Ahem, that's unnecessarily vulgar, but no: they steal from the poor, too—the poor are the main victims of those religious types...
—What sons of bitches.
—Yeah, I know... Ah, you got me: yes, I'm a thief. How long have you been on the streets?
—My whole life, honestly.
For a split second, I felt my heart sink when I heard that. This kid has lived like this his whole life. It's true: Felt isn't the only one who's suffered from hunger and homelessness. This kingdom doesn't protect those who don't have a single gold coin. They just see us as trash; I've noticed it... I hate how people in carriages look at us with disgust; some won't even look us in the eye.
Seeing Ryuzaki doesn't exactly comfort me or lift my spirits... This world remains a disappointment. I seriously hate that there are no adventurers' guilds; something like that would at least make my situation a bit more bearable. I can't even get a job here just because I can't read that strange language. I tried to get ahead, but it's as if the world slapped me across the face and spat on me for good measure. I'm tired of this...
"Hey, don't feel bad; I'm used to it by now," Ryuzaki said.
"No, don't worry about it, Ryuzaki. It's a common thing. At least for those of us at the bottom of the economic food chain."
"Indeed, it's just the norm. They eat like kings, and we eat the scraps."
"We're scavengers. Yeah, it doesn't sound great, but what can you do? I suppose you're off to meet up with your crew or your family now, right?"
"Crew? Family?"
"What...? Don't tell me... you do this alone..."
"Always."
I grimaced in utter discomfort; I wasn't very good at dealing with people in this kind of situation, and it was awful to witness up close.
"I'm going to keep looking for a juicy score," Ryuzaki announced.
"Ryuzaki, wait. Do you even have a plan? Don't tell me you're just going to dive headfirst into another heist."
"Just small-scale plans. I don't overthink things—especially not when I hardly ever get a decent meal."
...
"Ryuzaki... that's practically suicidal."
"I know. So what?"
I hated how casually Ryuzaki viewed this whole situation. How the hell does he manage to live like that? I get the feeling of rarely having a meal, but I don't get how someone can't exercise even a shred of caution... I understand hunger, but not that hippie attitude.
"Hey..."
I looked at him. I wanted to avoid looking at him, but I couldn't; he was annoying and, on top of that, a reckless moron. But... why didn't I want him to leave? Is it pity? Or do I just want more people for my super-team of thieves?
Various ideas swirled in my mind; concepts of utility and compassion clashed wildly, giving me a sudden headache. Why is it so hard to silence those thoughts? Ugh, it sucks.
"Wait..." I said.
"Yeah?"
"Are you hungry?"
"Yup. So?"
"Come on, I'll treat you to something."
"Okay, but what do I have to do?"
"What?"
"You know, the usual street stuff. What do you want in exchange? Do you want my clothes? Some of my food stash? Or maybe you're one of those... lucky you... who just wants my body. Just so you know, I'm not a virgin anymore."
My brain nearly exploded... What the fuck did I just hear?! Okay, clothes are one thing, food is pretty standard... but what do you mean "I'm not a virgin anymore"? What the hell happened to this guy? Did someone take advantage of him?
"Whoa! What, do I look like a pedophile to you?! No, shit, no. I don't want any of that..."
"You're offering me a meal with nothing in return? That's not stupid..."
YOU SON OF A...!
Asshole! I try to help you out, and you go and act like a smart-ass!
Even though it didn't show on my face, I was completely irritated. What a shameless brat!
Ugh... it's not worth it; I'd better just forget it...
—Shut up. Do you want it or not? It's an offer that expires in minutes.
—If that's the case, then yes, I do.
—Okay. But first, I think I forgot to tell you: my name is Kinomoto Kurosaki. Just call me Kino; it's easier to remember.
—Okay, Kino, let's go—I'm starving. Get it? Ha, ha.
—Yeah, cut the jokes; don't get too comfortable. —I composed my face and gave him the most incredulous look possible. I still couldn't believe how someone who had been treated so badly could remain so cheerful. Deep down, I envied him; I wished I had that kind of strength.
We went to get something to eat, and things were a lot more relaxed. I went for the cheapest food available—something that wasn't total garbage, though. Meat skewers are tasty, but honestly, I need to forget what they're actually made of; besides, I wasn't going to make him eat that meat... especially not in his condition.
I chose chicken and vegetable soup—something light yet filling. It would definitely put a strain on my wallet for the month, but I felt it was necessary. It was time to eat something decent—something you didn't have to swallow without asking questions, something you didn't have to eat without knowing what it was.
I was just trying to find a bit of normalcy in my life on the streets and, in the process, gain a new partner. That's how it all works: money controls everything. I'm just following that obvious logic; it's not like I'm a Good Samaritan—far from it. I just want to eat something good for once and recruit more people for the heists. That was always my goal.
—GOD! This is so good, Kino. The vegetables are soaked in chicken broth, and I'm not even done yet.
—Take it easy—you have to savor it. Enjoy it; don't just wolf it down.
—Ugh, don't put it like that; it sounds awful. "Fine, I won't."
Ryuzaki used only his spoon to devour the entire dish; he even picked up the bowl with his hands to drink down all the hot broth—he didn't leave a drop. For my part, this meal was a breath of fresh air in my monotonous life of crime.
I asked for the check. As we left, it looked like Ryuzaki and I were about to go our separate ways. Nope? Of course not; that wasn't something I was going to allow.
"Ryuzaki, come here."
"Kino, what is it? Do you want to talk about something?"
"Nope, it's just... I lied to you."
"HUH?!"
"Relax, I'm not asking for anything unpleasant; I just want to propose something."
"And that would be?"
"Do you want more food and a slightly easier life?"
"Okay, what do you want?" Ryuzaki looked dejected, anticipating what was coming. He knew he might be walking into an inescapable trap by trusting me blindly, but he couldn't help it—he was starving.
"What I'm saying is: why don't we work together on heists?"
"OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! Right. I thought you wanted my body."
"NO, DAMMIT! All I want is for us to pull off... robberies," I whispered in his ear.
"Oh, you should've just said so. That's easy, Kino."
"It's not just 'easy': you're going to be working not only with me but with other people, too."
"And *they're* the ones who want those intimate services, right?"
"HELL NO! There's nothing sexual involved! Stop getting the wrong idea!"
"Kino, you just want us to work on robberies, right?"
"THAT'S IT! YES! JUST THAT—NO SEX INVOLVED!"
"Well, let me think about it..."
"This is a limited-time thing, so don't take too long: the offer expires in five seconds." —That's not nearly enough!
—I know, but didn't you say taking risks didn't matter?
—I accept! I have nothing to lose.
—Alright, I'm leaving now.
—Wait, you're not leaving just yet.
—What?
"We're going to test your skills; think of it as an exam."
"What's an exam?"
"...A test..."
"Are you sure you don't want that? I'm good with my mouth."
"NOOOOOOOOO, for fuck's sake, NO! I have 0% interest in that! I mean, absolutely none, damn it!"
"Hahaha, I know. I just wanted to see how you'd react."
*Kid... son of a bitch...*
"Ugh, forget it. Let's go find an easy target."
We went looking, and the easiest mark was a guy who looked careless with his belongings. You could tell he was in a rush. Distraction and a hit—that's all there is to it.
And the result was... DISASTROUS!
"WHAT THE HELL...?! No! Not like that!"
"You said 'hit.' Well, I thought I could show off my strength—wasn't that what you wanted?"
"I DIDN'T MEAN IT LITERALLY!"
The man groaned from the direct smack to the face. He was dazed; not seriously injured, just stunned stupid by the blow. Luckily, we were in a secluded spot since we'd followed him there.
"When I said 'robbery,' I meant the sneaky kind, not a fistfight!" I scolded Ryuzaki for his sheer recklessness.
Since he'd taken my words literally, I had no choice but to divert the victim's attention. The best thing I could think of was kicking him in the balls. I kicked with all my might to distract the man; we couldn't afford to let him counterattack.
"Ouch! You didn't have to do that..."
"Shut up and run!"
We fled quickly, leaving the guy curled up in the fetal position. What happened to him was just humiliating... That wasn't what I wanted... well... at least I see he's versatile; that counts for something. Although, Ryuzaki might just be a walking headache... I think I'm starting to regret this. —Come to think of it, do we split the profits among everyone?
—Yeah, but our job is to be quick and leave no trace. Don't pull a stupid stunt like that again...
I grabbed the money bag from the guy lying there—the one we'd tried to knock out—who was writhing on the ground. He's really careless. Now I had to take him to the hideout. It's going to be a long day...
I decided to walk Ryuzaki over to the shack that we—humble thieves—called home. I approached the door and knocked, waiting for someone to let me in.
—What's the password? —I heard Felt's voice; she was watching me through the crack with one eye.
—Felt, it's me. Open the door.
—That's not the password! —Felt's mocking voice rang out—. You know the rules: the password.
—You've got to be kidding.
—Nope. If you want in, you have to say the code.
—The master key... ugh.
Ryuzaki looked cheerful, though a bit impatient to get inside Rom's bazaar. Meanwhile, Felt was playing one of her typical, tasteless pranks on me. She's just a kid—what did I expect?
—Step back and cover your ears; this is an elite-class secret. Capiche? —I told Ryuzaki.
—Okidoki.
—Where did that come from...? Ugh, whatever. The password...
Felt started speaking. Even though I couldn't see her, I knew she was enjoying messing with me and watching my reaction.
—For the giant rats...?
—We give poison.
—For the great White Whale...?
—A fishing hook.
—For our most honorable Great Dragon...?
—BURN in hell, you scum!
"Heh, heh! That's the spirit, brother!" Felt opened the door with a triumphant grin, though her expression quickly shifted when she saw an unwelcome guest. Still, she let him in; Kino looked cheerful—unlike most days—so it was a nice change of pace.
"Come in, but if you try to pull a fast one with anything in here, you'll lose your hands," Felt warned bluntly, crossing her arms right in the doorway and fixing Ryuzaki with a sharp, piercing glare.
The blond didn't even flinch; instead, he let out a light chuckle as he surveyed the place with brazen curiosity.
"Quite the welcome... Relax, Blondie. I've got no intention of robbing the people who feed me... unless it's absolutely necessary," Ryuzaki joked, earning a death glare from the girl.
"Kinomoto..." Old Man Rom's deep, heavy voice boomed from the back of the shop as he set a mallet down on the wooden table. "Mind telling me who this lad is? You know perfectly well we don't bring just anyone into the warehouse without talking it over first. This place is our sanctuary, not a homeless shelter. Bringing people in like that... that's not how we do things here."
I sighed, running a hand over my face to shake off the exhaustion of a day that had completely spiraled out of control.
"I know, Old Man, I know... I know the rules. But hear me out first," I said, stepping forward and signaling Ryuzaki to stay put. "This is Ryuzaki. I found him in the central plaza. The guy was trying to pick the pockets of some cultists in broad daylight. He's reckless, sure, but he's agile and fearless. We just pulled a job together—well, actually, he served as a disastrous distraction, and we ended up swiping a pouch off some careless guy." Off to one side of the room, the trio of Gastón, Camberly, and Ranchis watched the newcomer with unconcealed suspicion. They were playing cards with a deck I kept in my pockets; teaching them the game hadn't been hard. They seemed more engrossed in the match than in the visitors; I suppose a bit of dopamine helps one relax—they didn't look nearly as tense as before.
"A heist?" Rom narrowed his huge eyes, sizing up the boy's scrawny, disheveled figure. "Kinomoto, that lad clearly hasn't eaten in days. A starving, impulsive type on the streets is a danger to himself and the group. If the guards or those lunatics catch him, they'll track him right back here. It's an unnecessary risk."
"I understand the risk, Rom, but hear me out," I countered firmly. "He's fast, knows the alleyways as well as Felt does, and has no one. With regular meals and a solid plan, he could be the perfect bait for physical distractions while we operate. We can't keep doing everything on our own if we want cleaner jobs."
While I argued with the giant old man, Felt approached the blond boy, sniffing the air in annoyance before her gaze landed on my pockets. With her characteristic lightning speed, she reached into my jacket and snatched a folded piece of paper that was sticking out.
"Hey, Felt! I told you not to do that!"
"Let's see... what the hell is this?" Felt asked, unfolding the paper and grimacing in disgust at the strange symbols and handwriting. "What the hell is this, Kino? You collecting street trash now?"
"Oh, that... Those religious types in the square gave it to me while I was trying to stop Ryuzaki from getting his throat slit."
Rom extended his massive hand and took the leaflet Felt was holding out to him. His bushy eyebrows drew together in a grim expression as he examined the document.
"The Order of Od Laguna..." the giant murmured. "They're a different kind of sect. In this kingdom, the primary faith is in the Divine Dragon, Volcanica. These guys worship Od Laguna as if it were an entity with a will of its own—one that demands tribute. Kinomoto, I strongly suggest you stay away from those people."
"They don't seem much different from the fanatics back where I come from," I remarked, crossing my arms. "Though they do give off a pretty nasty vibe."
"It's worse than you think," Rom interjected, setting the pamphlet down on the workbench. "In this world, religious fanatics have a grotesque precedent: the Witch Cult."
I frowned. The word "Witch" had left a bitter taste in my mouth ever since I arrived here. Although Rom had given me a very brief overview before, the question gnawed at me.
"What the hell are they, exactly?"
"They're the absolute scum of the Dragon Kingdom," Rom replied instantly, as if reading my mind. "A group of psychopaths who worship the Witch of Envy, Satella. That woman nearly destroyed the world four hundred years ago; she devoured half the continent and was sealed away, not killed. Her followers—the Archbishops of Sin and their cultists—go around slaughtering entire villages and performing insane rituals just to honor the memory of that silver-haired woman. If you see anyone suspicious in black robes or carrying strange texts, don't think twice: run."
Ryuzaki, who had been listening silently while fiddling with a dull pocketknife from the table, let out a mocking chuckle.
"Bah, stories about the Witch are just tales to scare royal brats and kids who misbehave. Look at me—I'm still in one piece. Though... it is true that a couple of months ago, there were rumors they attacked a village in the east. They say they didn't even leave the dogs alive."
"They aren't just stories, lad," Rom cut in coldly. "And with the Royal Selection just around the corner, things are going to get worse."
Ryuzaki pointed his thumb toward my backpack, where one of the propaganda posters I'd picked up was sticking out.
"I see you even brought back the flyer for the future queen. But the old man's right about one thing: we need to hurry up and gather some coin. I heard some merchants say security in the capital is going to triple as soon as the candidates arrive at the castle. The knights are going to sweep through the slums."
"Give me that!" Felt snatched the poster from Ryuzaki and examined it closely. "Let's see... A busty redhead, the merchant woman, a noblewoman, and a half... AHHHHHHH, NO WAY! Is that the Witch?!" "Hey, didn't they seal away the Witch—the one who grabs the legs of misbehaving brats while they sleep?" Ryuzaki blurted out, wrinkling his nose.
"She's a half-elf," Rom explained, rubbing his beard. "They aren't common, but they exist; after all, Satella wasn't the only one. The strange thing is, she looks exactly like the stories describe: silver hair and a half-elf."
"Relax," I interjected, trying to smooth things over. "If the Witch has already been put to sleep, we can't be prejudiced against a girl who doesn't even pay us any mind. Besides, it's awful to judge someone solely based on their appearance."
"Yeah... you're right," Rom nodded, looking at me with a measure of respect, "but one must always be cautious. You're more mature than you look, Kinomoto."
"Ahem... yeah, I get that a lot. But let's not get into that, shall we?"
Ranchis suddenly slammed a knife into the table, right next to the poster.
"Shit! If this is real, it means our scores are going to take a hit!"
"It means we can't just go around robbing places recklessly and stupidly anymore," Felt added, sitting on a crate with her arms crossed. "No more kicking guys in the balls in broad daylight, bro. We need better-thought-out plans."
I remained silent, clenching my fists inside my pockets. Felt and Rom's words echoed in my head, a constant reminder of how precarious our position was. "Better-thought-out plans." I knew I wasn't bad as an improvised strategist, but in a world where beings existed who could slice through buildings with swords or incinerate fields with magic, I felt pathetically useless.
*I need to learn some real magic,* I thought with deep frustration. Shooting sparks of fire or ice isn't going to save my life—or these people's—when the knights or the cultists decide to sweep the area. I have to find a way to master my gate before the Royal Selection tightens the net.
A few meters away, Gastón threw his cards to the ground after losing to Camberly, abruptly shattering the heavy atmosphere.
"Damn the royalty and damn the Royal Selection!" he cursed, spitting on the ground. "Those fucking nobles living in their golden castles while they sic the knights on us just because they're picking a new queen. As if any of them give a damn if we starve to death in this dump."
"And now, on top of that, he's brought another mouth to feed," Camberly grumbled, though his mockery of Gastón for winning the card game was still evident. "There were already too many of us for the few coins we scrape together each day. They're going to put us in an even shittier situation than we're already in."
"Shut your mouth, Camberly," Ranchis cut in, though his face mirrored the same discontent. "Kinomoto's the one who's been coming up with the best ideas lately. But it's true—things are going to get ugly... If the knights start conducting raids for the Royal Selection, they're going to hunt us down like rats."
I looked at each of them: the old giant trying to keep order; Felt, her pride intact despite the squalor; the trio of clumsy thieves who did nothing but complain; and the new blond boy, who was watching everything as if it were a game.
"No one is going to starve, and no one is going to get hunted down," I declared, raising my voice to silence the murmurs. "Starting tomorrow, we play by different rules. If the Royal Selection is going to change this kingdom, we're going to adapt before they crush us."
Weeks later
The night chill in the slums was unforgiving; hunger remained a constant companion.
Three weeks had passed since Ryuzaki joined the group—three weeks during which our street routine changed drastically. Gone were the absurd chases through the main square and the shouts of merchants enraged by a poorly timed kick. Now, things were done with almost surgical precision.
In a narrow alley near the commercial district, I stayed hidden in the shadow of a stack of wooden crates. My gaze was fixed on a fabric merchant counting his day's earnings beneath the glow of a mana-lamp. I didn't move; I barely breathed. With a subtle three-finger gesture against my shoulder, I gave the signal.
A silhouette descended from the rooftops with feline agility. Ryuzaki landed on his feet without making a sound. He feigned a clumsy stumble just two meters from the merchant, knocking over a couple of empty sacks—creating just enough noise to make the man spin around in alarm.
"Hey! You damn brat, watch where you're going!" the merchant growled, taking a couple of threatening steps toward the boy.
That brief, three-second distraction was all I needed. Gliding like a ghost through the man's blind spot, my hand sliced through the air and unhooked the leather pouch from his belt before he could even blink. I gave a slight nod; Ryuzaki apologized with a bow and a submissive smile, and we both melted into the shadows of the alley across the way before the merchant could notice the lightness at his waist.
It was a perfect job. Clean. No violence, no chases, no guards.
However, when we returned to the deep alleys of the slums and sat on some stone steps to count our haul, reality hit us hard.
I emptied the pouch into my palm: seven worn copper coins and two bronze ones.
"You've got to be kidding me," Ryuzaki muttered, slumping back against the brick wall and letting out a sigh heavy with frustration. "That guy was wearing silk, Kino. I thought he'd at least have a couple of silver coins."
"I hate to break it to you, but this is inflation," I replied dejectedly. "It happens when those 'Molten Gold' bigwigs think only of themselves and leave us the scraps, so there's never enough to go around."
Ryuzaki's stomach let out a dry, prolonged growl that echoed through the deserted alley. He clutched his abdomen and gritted his teeth, wincing in pain.
"Damn... feels like there's a black hole in my gut," the blond boy muttered, trying to laugh, though it came out as nothing more than a weary grimace. "I don't think I can tighten my belt any further."
I glanced at him sideways. Ryuzaki had improved immensely; he was no longer the reckless lunatic who stole for the adrenaline rush. He had learned to listen, to stay quiet, and to move like a shadow at my command. But the physical toll was evident. His cheekbones were sharp, his cheeks hollow, and the pallor of his skin betrayed his lack of nourishment. No matter how clean and coordinated our heists were, food in the slums was simply running scarce. The Royal Guard had blocked the normal flow of goods into the impoverished sectors.
I reached into my satchel and pulled out a piece of stale bread—hard as a rock—and a chunk of rancid cheese left over from the morning. I broke it exactly in half and handed the larger piece to Ryuzaki.
"Here. Eat slowly, or you'll get a stomach cramp."
Ryuzaki looked at the bread, then at me. For a second, he hesitated.
"Kino... that's all we have left for today. You haven't eaten anything since yesterday at noon."
"Shut up and eat," I ordered without looking at him, chewing my small portion slowly to trick my own stomach. "If you pass out in the middle of a job tomorrow, we'll both get caught. Consider it a strategic investment."
Ryuzaki took the bread and bit into it hungrily, though he struggled to chew it. We both fell silent for several minutes, listening to the distant murmur of the Upper City and the freezing wind whistling through the alleyways.
"Hey, Kino..." Ryuzaki spoke up suddenly, staring at the ground while toying with a crumb. "Where the hell do you actually come from?"
I didn't answer right away. I just looked up at the night sky, searching for stars that bore no resemblance to those of the world I had left behind.
"From very far away. From a place where people don't starve to death in the streets for lack of a few copper coins. A place where you don't need swords to feel safe... You wouldn't understand."
"Sounds like one of those fairy tales the nobles read," Ryuzaki said with a bitter smile, shrugging. "I don't know anything about that. I was born in a shack three streets over. My mother died of pneumonia when I was six, and the guards hauled my old man off for not paying taxes during a harsh winter. Since then... well, the streets have been my home. I always thought this was what life was: scrounging through trash, avoiding a beating, and seeing if you make it to the next morning."
I squeezed the piece of bread in my hand until it crumbled. The matter-of-fact way Ryuzaki spoke of his misery twisted my gut. In my old world, kids Ryuzaki's age worried about school exams, video games, or hanging out with friends. Here, survival was a relentless, daily sentence.
That pang of guilt surfaced—a heavy, nagging guilt. I knew I wasn't to blame for the kingdom's rotten structure, yet I felt horribly responsible. I'd dragged Ryuzaki into my scheme, promising we'd make it if we had a plan, but all we'd managed to do was go hungry day after day.
He was pretending to be a thief when *they* were the experts. It was awful not fitting in, but I also knew this wasn't just a fantasy anymore—it was harsh reality. Constantly going hungry like this was agonizing. Those damn nobles had left us in the same pile of shit; it was depressing to see how little things bought because of the stupid inflation. And Ryuzaki... always alone, always hungry. I hated this feeling. I'm a wizard, but... I haven't even cast a spell in ages. Am I supposed to be the Harry Potter from the movies?
"This is no way to live, Ryuzaki," I said suddenly, my voice raspy yet charged with grim determination. The blond looked up, surprised by the shift in my tone.
"Huh?"
"Stealing copper coins to buy stale bread isn't a plan; we're just slowly dying." I stood up, brushing the dust from my trousers and gazing toward the upper reaches of the capital, where the lights of the castle and the wealthy districts gleamed with opulence. "We're starving ourselves pulling petty thefts because we're afraid of the patrols. But the Royal Guard is going to tighten the net completely in a couple of weeks. When the knights do a sweep of the slums, guys like us will be the first to go down."
"Kino... what are you thinking?" Ryuzaki asked, feeling a chill that had nothing to do with the cold wind.
"If we really want out of this shit—if we want Felt, Old Man Rom, and ourselves to have enough food for months and a place where we don't have to hide like rats—we need real money. A lot of money. A quick score, one where we don't draw attention."
"That would mean robbing a noble's carriage or a shipment from the merchant district," Ryuzaki murmured, his eyes widening. "Kino, that's suicide. They have armed guards, royal mages..."
"Not if the plan is clever enough," I cut him off, staring at him with narrowed eyes. "But it's going to require preparation. We'll have to tighten our belts even more for a few days. We'll eat sparingly, save every damn copper coin we get, and study the royal convoy routes."
I clenched my fist, feeling the spark of dormant mana within me—that mediocre magic that frustrated me so much, yet was something I'd have to make work, no matter what.
"The game of playing small-time thieves is over, Ryuzaki." We're going to fund the big score that gets us off the streets... or die trying.
That night, I spoke with them in a windowless, enclosed room.
"A restaurant? Are you serious, kid?" Rom asked, bewildered.
"I know how to cook; I can be the chef. Besides, it's honest work," I explained.
"Do you have any idea what it costs to fund something like that? Buying a place is impossible," the old man argued.
"I know, so I came up with an idea that would help us. You know how Felt always has jobs lined up? If we set up the perfect front... I mean, the bazaar. If we stock up on liquor, we could turn the place into a bar—make money, and at the same time, behind closed doors and out the back, keep running our usual business. That way, our money doesn't look suspicious, and we don't have to treat it like it's burning a hole in our pockets. That's how you launder money."
"Could that really work, brother?!" Felt exclaimed, eyes wide. "Not having to hide the cash or stay on high alert twenty-four hours a day!"
"I don't get it... Explain it to me, kid. I've never heard of anything like that," Rom said, scratching his head.
—Rom, money laundering is about placement, layering, and integration. You don't want to end up in a jail cell just because you wanted to show off... One word: taxes. The restaurant is the perfect front for this. Look at these cards: this is you, and this piece of lint here is the taxman. They're watching you. And what do they see? They see a loafer with money—living in a beautiful house without a job, eating like there's no tomorrow. What does the taxman think?
—Do they see us as thieves? —Camberly asked.
I made a sound like an error alarm.
—WRONG! They think you're evading taxes. They seize your assets, take everything, and throw you in the slammer. Tax evasion will leave you absolutely destitute. The mistake was not laundering the money. There was a famous thief and trafficker, Al Capone—nobody could catch him, but guess what? He got arrested for not paying taxes. Now, look at this: I put this coin here. And what do I do? I mix it with the cash revenue from the shop—the restaurant or the bazaar. That's layering. I put the dirty money in there and it blends in; that's integration. That way, you have clean money earned from a "humble business." Dirty money mixes easily and becomes clean money, and no one's the wiser. Just by having a small business—the kind a regular guy might invest in—the money stays safe and easy. You just can't go flashing it around like crazy, or they'll catch on. The storefront is key to making it work.
—Fascinating... I never thought we could do something like that —Rom admitted, surprised.
—Old man Rom, why the hell didn't you do that before? —Felt demanded.
—Kid, I only thought about the usual stuff around here: if you lose something, people pay to get it back. Easy money from a scam.
—So, old man Rom, what do you say? —I asked, looking him straight in the eye. "Interested in escaping destitution in exchange for turning this run-down dive into a fancy, upscale little restaurant? That doesn't sound like too high a price to pay for a decent life."
"I've never heard an idea that was simultaneously so risky and so sure-fire," the giant smiled. "Let's get to work right now."
End of chapter.