[ Re-translated on September / 11 /2025 ]
Chapter 8: No World Lacks Petty Villagers
The figures skulking up to Steven's door clearly hadn't expected him to step out first. For a heartbeat, the air at the threshold froze solid.
"Well? Don't be shy. You came to see me, didn't you?"
Steven smiled lazily, eyeing them like one might watch a bad stage play. These weren't the lifeless husks he'd seen wandering the village earlier. No, these ones were sharper—more restless.
And familiar.
He remembered their faces. When he'd pulled that glittering lump of gold from his pocket, these were the same rats hiding in the crowd, their eyes gleaming with greed.
Apparently, it didn't matter what world you dropped into. There would always be parasites sniffing around for scraps.
If they were here to get some easy money… well, it'd depend on whether they had the ability to take it.
"…"
"Outsider," one finally said, straightening now that the sneaking was pointless. "You should know the rules of this village."
So that was their angle.
They didn't lunge forward, though. Their eyes kept flicking to the sword at Steven's waist. Anyone brazen enough to openly carry a blade in this world wasn't someone you laid hands on lightly.
"Oh? Special rules, huh? Nobody told me. Please, enlighten me."
Steven leaned against the doorframe, genuinely entertained. After years of near-isolation, he'd take any excuse to chat—even if it was with would-be bandits playing villager cosplay.
It wasn't like conversation cost him anything.
"Do you even realize how much danger you bring by letting an Ægir into our village?" one of them snapped, voice gaining confidence the longer he spoke. "Do you know the risks we now bear because of you?"
Steven blinked. Then his grin widened.
"Sorry, can't say I do. But by the sound of it… I should be thanking you?"
His shrug was casual, but his eyes glittered with mischief. He didn't even know what "Ægir" meant yet, but it was obvious enough—they weren't here to warn him out of kindness.
And right on cue, the mask slipped.
"That's right. Even if you paid the village chief, the burden still falls on all of us. Shouldn't we be compensated as well?"
The man's chest puffed up, chin tilting high as if he'd just uttered a universal truth.
Steven nodded, face perfectly straight.
"You know… you make a fair point. I really didn't think it through. So you're here to ask me for some… extra compensation?"
Their eyes lit up at his words. One even stepped closer, emboldened.
"Exactly. What you gave wasn't enough. We deserve our share."
In their minds, Steven was no longer some dangerous, unknown foreigner. He was a walking gold mine, a spoiled noble's son carrying far more treasure than he'd revealed.
If they could just bleed him dry, they'd have enough to escape this cursed village and live comfortably in some bustling city.
At least, that was the fantasy gleaming in their eyes as they stared at him—like he was the key to their salvation, the door to a brighter future.
Steven, meanwhile, only saw scavengers circling what they thought was easy prey.
Steven's expression was all hesitation and awkwardness, his eyes full of confusion like he'd just been caught skipping homework. On his eternally eighteen-year-old face, it looked almost too convincing—like some naïve youth fresh to the world, overwhelmed by the situation.
Even Steven himself had to admit—he was killing this role.
"Well, I do have more gold," he murmured, rubbing the back of his neck. "But… can you really speak for the whole village? Maybe I should check with the chief first, just to be sure?"
That single word—chief—hit them like a bucket of cold water.
"No, no, no need for that!" one stammered. "Just give the money to us. We'll… uh… we'll distribute it to everyone else."
Their earlier bravado wilted instantly. For all their greed, just the mention of the cane-wielding elder made their voices shrink, their eyes dart nervously.
Steven's lips twitched. He was about to drop the act, thinking about which way he should "teach" these idiots a lesson, when—
"Enough."
The voice cut through the air like a knife.
An old man stood behind the schemers, leaning on a gnarled cane. His face was unreadable, carved in stone, but the weight that pressed down on Steven's shoulders made him blink.
'So this is what they call presence, huh? Didn't think a village head would have that kind of aura.'
Steven chuckled inwardly. The world was proving far more entertaining than he'd expected.
"C-Chief, we were just—"
One villager tried to speak, but a single glance from the elder froze his tongue. Like scolded children, all of them clamped their mouths shut.
"Enough. Disperse. Crowding a guest's doorway… do you want the whole village to be a laughingstock?"
His tone was mild. But in an instant, the duo scattered, leaving only the aftertaste of their resentment and frustration hanging in the air. None of them dared voice it aloud.
'Hah. Shame. I was hoping to poke them a little, see if I could squeeze some acknowledgement points out of the encounter. Guess that's off the table now.'
Steven sighed with genuine disappointment, then turned his attention to the old man making his way toward him.
The elder's cane tapped against the ground as he closed the distance, feathers like a hawk's cresting from his forehead—an odd, dignified detail that marked him as something more than human. In his hands, he carried a tray.
"Guest," he said simply, offering the plate. "I told you before—if you need anything, come to me. The villagers… they don't understand. I hope you can forgive their behavior."
On the tray sat what might have been bread—or maybe just bricks masquerading as bread, black and dense.
Steven accepted it, lips curling. "If you hadn't shown up, who knows what they would've tried? I should be thanking you."
"You flatter me," the elder replied, lowering his head. But Steven caught the flicker of fear that passed through his eyes.
The old man didn't know what kind of power this "youth" wielded. He didn't need to. The scent alone told him enough—the unmistakable taint of Seaborn blood lingered on Steven.
And those fools, those idiots who thought only of gold… they truly had no idea what kind of monster they were poking at.
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Note: Character Illustration is in this Google Drive:
https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/1iuyfwNVFHzIi9H4rWNT_lAm7jTSiah_M