After eating barely enough to survive the night, I exited the tavern. It felt like everywhere I went, I wasn't accepted in this world. I tried to find a way to survive anyway. But with this body of mine, it seemed the only place I could work was the mines—and I didn't want to die of some random disease down there. This place was ruthless. You could be impaled in front of the city just for stealing an apple.
It was clear: it was all about power and luck. If you were born prestigious, you thrived. If not… you died without even a grave.
After sleeping under a bridge like a true homeless, I found a job from an old man—a beast-type demon—at a stall. I spent my days cleaning horse feces and got paid 20 bronze coins daily. That barely covered the price of one filling meal. But at least the old man let me sleep in the stalls. I never asked his name—whatever it is, it's not important.
A week passed with that routine. I managed to save up 50 bronze coins—half a silver coin. (A silver coin is one hundredth of a golden coin, so I'd need 10,000 more bronze coins for a golden one. Maybe I'm dreaming too big.)
Over the week, I got used to the disgusting smell of feces and rot—not fully, but it was a start. I learned a bit of the map of this countryside, but I never dared to go to a town. Until today.
The old man had mentioned that towns were very different from here. I couldn't afford a horse, so I sneaked into a carriage filled with grain. After hearing a humanoid demon riding a mule chat with some guards, I realized we had arrived near a town. I sneaked out just like I sneaked in.
The town was far better than the countryside. Bigger buildings, cleaner streets, and an actual market.
An item caught my attention—a dirty dagger. From its condition, it seemed to be in my price range. In this world, where the strongest survive, a weapon was fundamental.
"How much?" I said, pointing at the dagger.
The seller grinned in a way that immediately pissed me off. "60 bronze coins, kiddo."
"Can that thing even cut? Make it 45. No one else is gonna buy this piece of metal. I'm being generous by buying it."
Grudgingly, the seller sold it for 45 bronze coins. I was left with only 5. I strapped the dagger to my waist. Eyes followed me as I walked by. It was clear I wouldn't use this dagger for good. I wasn't a hero.
Later that day, wandering the streets aimlessly, I saw a girl who looked older than me, but barely a teenager. From the way she dressed, she was clearly born into a powerful family. The problem? The guard accompanying her. If I could rob her… maybe I could make a lot of money. The whispers of passerby confirmed it—this demon girl was well-known.
I overheard her name: "the future heir of the Varnis family." I'd heard it somewhere before.
If not for the guard, I'd do filthy things to her and rob everything she had. But I couldn't risk it.
I wandered until I saw a stand selling fried food. Only 2 bronze coins a piece. I bought one immediately—it was too cheap to be real. Right now, all I wanted was a comfortable life, not greatness. Greatness would come later. At this tender age, no one would take me seriously, even if I was actually 15.
I had only 3 bronze coins left. No place to stay. So I took out my dagger and pointed it at the young man selling the fried food. He wasn't intimidated by my size or age.
"Careful there, kid. You might hurt yourself," he mocked.
"Shut the fuck up!" I gritted my teeth. I wanted him to take me seriously. Then I did something he didn't expect: I stabbed his hand. Surprise flashed across his face, but he clenched his fist, ready to punch me. I crouched just in time, almost breaking my nose. Damn, I panicked—can't blame me.
Without thinking, I grabbed the boiling oil from his stand and threw it at him. He screamed in pure agony as the scalding liquid burned his bare skin under his clothes. I plunged the dagger into his throat in a single stroke. Not professional, just a dying prey using its last strength. His screaming stopped. He lay there lifeless. I had stolen a life.
It was almost night. No one was around, no guards, suspiciously clean streets, no wandering eyes. I grinned. I was oddly pleased knowing what an asshole I am.
I grabbed the sack of coins from his stall and ran to an alley as fast as possible. The sack was heavy, full of hundreds of bronze coins. Walking with it could attract attention, and the bank was probably closed—it was night. But… it was my first real kill. And that thought pleased me strangely. I felt good knowing I could decide life and death, even if he was just a peasant.
The next day, I slept uncomfortably in the alley, but at least with a sense of victory. I went to the bank. The worker looked surprised—a kid with blood on him, carrying a heavy sack of coins. He didn't question me and exchanged the coins for silver. I received 3 silver coins and 12 bronze coins—that meant the sack had 312 bronze coins.
I wasn't caught by the city guards. I could live comfortably for a few weeks… no more working in the stall this week.