Chapter 1
I held my breath, hidden in the thicket.
They're coming. Finally.
After waiting what felt like forever, the group I'd been waiting for drew near. Even on this jagged mountain they moved without a sound; their faces were all shadowed by hoods.
Of course — they were the notorious assassin band known as Irregular.
The number of lives that had been snuffed out by their hands couldn't be counted. Knights once called invincible. Mages versed in ancient sorcery. Even men who ruled with unchecked power. All had fallen.
And yet here I was, a scrawny kid crouched in the bushes, waiting like a kitchen rat for them. For one reason only.
I will catch one.
Steeling myself, I pried my eyes open.
"Ahhh—!"
A scream — more a sound ripped out by terror than courage — burst from me. I sprang from the vine pile and lunged for the man in front.
"Dad—!"
I clung to him like a desperate thing.
"What?"
"Dad?!"
The Irregular members who followed the man recoiled. As soon as they heard my shriek, some drew weapons; all looked stunned.
The man whose leg I had grabbed in particular...
"...Who are you."
His voice wrapped around me like a chill. Just the tone of it made me feel I could faint.
So this was him: the leader of the continent's deadliest assassin syndicate.
My whole body trembled, but I kept my grip, clinging to his leg like a leech.
"I'll serve you, my lord."
"..."
"Please raise me."
The Irregular stared at me like I'd gone mad. Honestly, I felt the same. But they must have felt even more bewildered.
Because he was the only one who could save me.
My name is Eustea Andres. I'm fifteen, and I woke up trapped inside a game.
***
It wasn't always this ridiculous—that my fate should hinge on clinging to an assassin chief.
My parents had an arranged marriage. My father was a marquess at the head of a prestigious house. My mother ran a major merchant guild. Father needed money; mother needed a protector.
At first, my parents got along. They were civil enough to bring me into the world. That didn't mean they were overflowing with affection. My father was strict—he was on his second marriage, and I had a half-brother. Neither my brother nor my father ever showed warmth toward my mother and me. My father was so severe that just seeing his shadow made me shrink away.
Still, I was okay because my mother loved me without limit.
That balance crumbled a few years ago.
Father's first love appeared.
He claimed he discovered true love only after divorcing my half-brother's mother. But his grandfather had opposed the match—she had been a maid. The first love had been raising his child in secret. By chance, my father met her again and learned she had a daughter. He brought that daughter into our manor.
That's where the fracture began.
Father was unendingly severe toward my half-brother and me, but he wasn't that way with the maid's daughter. He pitied the girl for growing up on the streets. The maid's daughter was naturally bright and charming; she could melt walls simply with a smile. Not only my father's walls crumbled—my half-brother's defenses fell too.
From then on, it was misery.
The maid's daughter was also absurdly lucky. She made friends among noble children I could never attract. She even won the affection of the First Prince, the one I'd loved for years. Servants fussed over her and often compared me unfavorably.
My mother was heartbroken. She argued with my father every day—"Don't treat us differently," "Keep your retainers in check." But nothing changed.
Then the worst thing happened. The maid's daughter ate something she shouldn't have and slipped into a deathlike fever. My father, my half-brother, and her influential friends raged and searched for the cause—and they pointed the blame at me.
"Poisonous plant found in Eustea's room. The very herb that nearly killed Stella."
"How dare you..."
My mother tried to defend me, but it wasn't enough. Everyone who loved the maid's daughter banded together and even stole my mother's guild from her—an act to strip my mother of power. Then my mother and I were cast out.
Mother, already shaken, worked herself to exhaustion to support me. She collapsed and lost consciousness; she hasn't recovered. After that, life was pure hardship.
I did everything to care for my sick mother. Once a noble daughter, I washed dishes in taverns and hauled fish at the market. Still, we couldn't get by. While I starved, the bastard father even brought his first love into the manor. Thinking about it still makes my blood boil. But I had to keep working. I even helped catch tuna at the harbor. Once I nearly drowned while working at sea.
It was at that near-death moment that the memories from my previous life as a Korean came flooding back. And I realized: this world is a game.
The maid's daughter's meteoric rise and ridiculous luck were because she was the game's protagonist.
Worse, I remembered the game's story to the very end—my role in it.
Organ donor.
In the game, when the heroine was near death, my role was to sell my organs to save her. I would sell them to wake my mother. Organ trade is illegal, of course, but this horrid game only cared about the protagonist. I could refuse to sell, but would the heroine's personal guard—my father, my half-brother, the First Prince, those powerful noble friends—let me be? In the game's plot it was my father who found me. If I didn't comply, they would drag me away.
So I needed a guardian strong enough to protect me from those people—someone with no ties to the heroine's circle. I chose the Irregular.
This place is a cave. It's an Irregular hideaway used when they operate nearby. Right now I'm surrounded by their members, shaking like a squirrel thrown among wolves.
Not only were there regular members present, but also members of their elite team. Irregular supposedly had exactly seven in its elite squad, including the leader. Two of them were here: the leader and a man named Antonio.
I swallowed hard as Antonio, one of the elite, stepped close.
"Aren't you really the leader's daughter?" he asked. The others snorted.
"There's no way the leader has a daughter."
"Who knows. Maybe someone's playing a prank..."
Antonio grabbed my chin and examined me, then let out a scream. A coin from the leader's hand had shot through the air with a sharp *snap* and embedded itself nearby.
Wow.
How could a coin make that sound? He'd only flicked it with his finger and it flew like that.
Should I run now?
I shook my head like a madwoman.
The answer can only be the leader.
The leader stared at me. Fear chilled my blood. I'd hauled tuna, but nothing prepared me for the air of a true killer. I closed my eyes and breathed slow. I was terrified—if I could, I wanted to faint—but I'd done every kind of job since being exiled from House Andres. And my gentle, fragile mother was waiting for me at home. I couldn't back down.
Aslan slowly removed his hood.
For a second I thought I couldn't breathe.
What a face.
Even among idols and actors—among anyone in my memories from Korea—I had never seen a face like his. Jet-black hair. Eyes like drops of dried blood set into crystal—terrifying and stunning all at once. A sharp jaw, features as if the gods had carved them with care, long lashes framing beautiful eyes. A chest that filled out the hood and broad shoulders like a designer's model.
But the beauty couldn't hide the menace. The moment our eyes met it felt as if my blood sank to the floor.
There's no turning back now. I've seen the face the world mustn't know. If his face is known, then he won't hesitate—if the situation turns ugly, he could kill me and leave.
Aslan stared at me. He said, "Who are you—"
"Eustea Andres, fifteen! The marquess's daughter who was driven from House Andres three years ago! I've washed dishes, disrupted information, worked days at the market hauling fish, caught tuna, and sometimes assisted an apothecary! I was exiled with my sick mother and now care for her; we rent a cellar at District 5, A-115—"
"How did you find our location—"
"I saw the destruction of the Gallego Count's house last night and assumed Irregular did it! Only a group like Irregular could secretly raze a count's house in a single night! Considering the imperial garrison placements, I guessed it'd be in these mountains! So I lay in ambush here—"
"You—"
"Eustea Andres, fifteen! Three years ago—"
"I'm not asking for your life story."
"Ugh."
I snapped my mouth shut, panic making me babble, then clamped both hands over my lips. The members burst into laughter.
"How adorable."
"Don't be absurd. How is *that* adorable? 'Cute' is a word meant for people like me."
"She's not dumb. Maybe we should test her skills."
"There's no time for that. If we're to shake the imperial troops, every moment counts."
While the others roused a din, Aslan remained quiet. His expression was unreadable, and he gave no sign of taking me in.
"Um—" I raised my hand carefully. "You don't need to worry about the imperial troops..."
Aslan narrowed his brow. "What do you mean?"
"The third detachment searching this area has a problem."
"How do you know that?"
"Because I made it happen...?"
I rummaged through my bag and produced something that looked like a clump of fern. Those who recognized it flinched.
"Betium?"
"Yes."
Betium. It was an herb used in this world for severe abdominal bloating and constipation—essentially a powerful laxative.
"I put plenty of it into the barracks' food yesterday."
Their stomachs would be rolling like thunder; they'd be miserable, but they wouldn't call off the search over diarrhea. More importantly, the commander of the third detachment was the kind of man with his eye on promotion. Even if he was locked in a latrine, his men would be dumped into the streets. My words left the Irregular speechless.
But someone doubted me. The only female member of Irregular—the same one who'd shouted "How is that cute?!"—pressed.
"How could you sneak into the barracks kitchen?"
"I worked in the barracks' mess before..."
"You *worked* there in the past. You're not currently employed there—why would the army let you in now?"
"Well, the commanders liked my cooking and always welcomed me back..."
I drew out the recommendation letters I'd been carrying for job hunting.
[★★★★★. Honestly, tastes better than home cooking. — Colonel Durotti]
[The cook's touch is exceptional. — Colonel Ragoni]
[This child's cooking tempers the urge to assault one's superior. — Brigadier Munoz]
"They always begged me to come back. When they felt sorry for me and there was no work, I'd often stop by to cook for them."
The members gaped. "How good can it be?"
Had I made a blunder? Maybe they thought I had a hidden escape plan. My heart dropped.
"Shall I go and help detoxify them?" I asked meekly.
Aslan considered for a moment, then said, "Check the imperial troop's movement and verify my suspicion."
"Yes."
The ordered member vanished with impossible speed. I might have ruined something, but clearly not everything.
Aslan rose. "Rest."
"What about that girl?"
"She doesn't seem intent on running. Leave her."
I started. An opportunity.
"Then may I prepare lunch?" I asked. "May I see what ingredients you have?"
"Food is over there..."
"If you watch me, I might improve the food."
"Well, yes."
Seeing me spring into action, one of the men muttered, "...What is this ridiculous situation?"
***
Aslan, Irregular's leader, watched Eustea silently. She tied a member to keep him occupied and began cooking. She built a fire with practiced hands, set a large pot on a ring of stones, and poured water into it with a soft "hmm."
"We have no vegetables," she said.
Antonio, the elite who had followed her, replied, "They spoil easily. Not great for carrying rations."
"But without vegetables, nutrition suffers... Ah, may I borrow your short blade?"
She took the blade and dragged Antonio out with her.
Thirty minutes later, the other members checked their watches and scowled. "Why are they taking so long? Did she get away?"
"Antonio's with her. She couldn't have."
"She handled Antonio like a pro—we might be fooled."
Just then the pair returned, arms full. Vegetables, even a fish.
"You waited? I cleaned and prepped these by the river."
"Master, it's incredible! She filched these from a woodskeeper!"
"I used to work for a gang that used extortion..." Antonio babbled, excited, while the others looked bewildered as the cooking began in earnest.
She chopped the vegetables with a sword cleaned at the riverside, tossed them into the pot, made a vegetable stock, prepared the fish and added it. She smashed raisins from the ration pouch with the haft of a knife and threw them in. The cave filled with an aroma that stirred hunger.
Some members were already drooling. Even those who had been wary crept toward the pot.
"Is it done yet?"
"Wait a little. The turnip needs to be fully tender to be tasty."
"It's been a while since we've had vegetables..."
"Is that so? Then I'll give you extra."
She shooed away the drooling members and let it simmer ten more minutes. When it was ready, she ladled it out, and those who tasted it remembered the recommendation letters.
[The cook's touch is exceptional.]
She really had an exceptional touch.
After that, they ate like starving wolves—no, like dogs owned by starving wolves. One man, in the middle of devouring his bowl, suddenly steadied himself and held out the empty dish toward Aslan.
"Leader, the food seems fine."
"If it had been poisoned, we'd all be dead."
They had scarfed it down. Aslan sighed and tasted the soup. It was easy to see why they'd eaten so greedily.
Indeed.
The members were in a daze.
"Put the ladle down. You've already had two bowls."
"You get your hands off the pot."
"I'm only on my first bowl."
As the bickering started, Eustea crept up to the leader.
Is she trying to distract them with food so she can attack me?
Pathetic. Thin hands that seemed to have only skin on bone were no threat.
At that moment, she slipped something from her bosom. Just as Aslan moved to restrain her, she slid the thing forward.
"I made this in secret... a sausage."
"..."
What on earth is this child? Still, one thing was clear.
"That brat's going to bolt with the pot!"
"If she gets caught, she's dead!"
...And I could already tell that sausage would be unbelievably delicious.
Aslan took the sausage.