《Why me?》 Chapter 1: The Wrong Summoning I opened my eyes. Everything was¡­ different. The light, the air, the world itself felt clearer than ever before. Yet, my mind was clouded. Something was wrong. My chest burned as if I had just been set on fire, and the pain was all too real. I slowly sat up, trying to process my surroundings. Towering stone pillars loomed over me. Stained glass windows cast eerie colors across the vast hall. Golden decorations shimmered under the candlelight. A¡­ church? I barely had time to comprehend my situation before I noticed the people around me. A group of men in heavy robes knelt before me, their eyes filled with a mixture of awe, fear, and confusion. Then, one of them spoke. ¡°The Sixth Hero has arrived!¡± ¡­Hero? My thoughts froze. That¡­ doesn¡¯t sound right. The last thing I remembered was visiting a shrine in Japan as a tourist. I was just messing around, whispering a few random wishes: The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. "I wish I could be strong." "I wish I had a harem." "I wish I had an epic life." Nothing serious, just for fun. Yet now¡­ I was here? "No¡­ this can''t be real." Before I could process the situation, an older priest stepped forward. He held a small ornate bottle, gently tilting it to let a few drops of liquid fall onto me. Holy water? The moment it touched my skin, a golden crest flared on my chest. The priests all held their breath. But then¡ª The golden crest burned red. A deep, crimson light swallowed it whole. The old priest immediately recoiled. "Get him out of here. Now." The room fell into a hushed panic. "But¡ª! The summoning should be flawless!" "That light¡­ what does it mean?" Before I could ask what the hell was going on, two men grabbed me by the arms and began dragging me toward the exit. I struggled slightly, but something told me it was useless. As we reached the church doors, the high priest suddenly raised his hand. "Wait." The men stopped, and the old priest stepped forward, looking directly into my eyes. His expression was unreadable as he spoke: "Your life will not last much longer." A cold chill ran down my spine. "What¡­?" The priest continued. "The gods summoned six heroes to save this world. But during the summoning ritual, the sixth hero died." Died? "Yet, the gods revived him." He paused. "And the summoning magic¡­ sought a replacement. That replacement was you." I stood there, frozen. "But the sixth hero is already alive once more. Which means¡­" "You are unnecessary." The words hit me like a knife. "You were not meant to be here, and as punishment¡­ the gods have placed a curse upon you." I swallowed hard. "A curse¡­?" The priest sighed, his expression dark. "You will slowly wither away. Your body will weaken, your life will fade, and eventually, you will die." I felt my heartbeat slow. "That''s¡­ not possible." The priest simply held out a small vial, pressing it into my palm. "This is all we can do for you." I stared at the tiny bottle, its faint liquid swirling inside. "It will ease the pain," the priest continued. "But nothing more. If I were you, I''d find a quiet place¡­ and accept your fate." And with that¡ª I was thrown out. --- The doors slammed shut behind me. I lay there, cold stone pressing against my back. A filthy, disease-ridden city stretched out before me. Thin, starving figures wandered the streets. Cries of the sick and dying echoed in the distance. And above all¡ª A searing pain erupted in my chest once more. I gritted my teeth. "¡­I don''t want to die." But in this world¡­ Was survival even possible? Chapter 2: Salvation? ?aresiz ve lanetli kahraman, hayatta kalman?n bir yolunu arar. Ancak bu ac?mas?z d¨¹nyada, basit bir yard?m talebi bile ona mal olabilir. Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. Chapter 3: Night and Sin Night had fallen. The moon cast a dim, ghostly glow over the filthy streets, barely illuminating the damp cobblestones. A cold wind howled through the alleys, sending a shiver down his spine. But that was nothing compared to the pain. Every breath felt heavier. Every step was a struggle. The curse was eating away at him. His muscles ached, his chest burned, and his vision swam. He staggered forward, forcing himself to move. But where? Where was he supposed to go? He had no money, no food, and his body was getting weaker by the hour. Then, a memory surfaced. A hospital. That was what he needed. A doctor, a healer¡ªanything that could slow down whatever was happening to him. But he had no idea where to find one. And even if he did¡­ Stolen story; please report. Would they help him? --- His stomach growled, a painful reminder that he hadn¡¯t eaten since arriving in this world. He rummaged through his bag, hoping for something¡ªanything. His fingers closed around a wrapped sandwich. His breath hitched. It was from his old world. For a moment, he just stared at it. Then, his fingers brushed against something else. A phone charger. A spare shirt. A water bottle. His wallet. A choked laugh escaped him. "This¡­ is my isekai survival kit, huh?" A bitter joke. But before he could dwell on it further, a figure caught his eye. --- A well-dressed adventurer walked past. The man¡¯s cloak was lined with silver embroidery, his boots barely scuffed, and a sheathed sword rested at his side. He was alone. And he looked wealthy. The hero''s mind raced. His own clothes stood out too much. If he kept walking around like this, he''d either get robbed, enslaved, or worse. But what if¡­? His hand gripped something in his bag. A charging cable. A plan formed in his mind. Slowly, he followed the adventurer into the shadows. --- The man muttered to himself, fixing his hair in a broken mirror. "That damn woman¡­ I wasted days trying to impress her, and for what?" He was distracted. This was his chance. The hero moved. --- With a swift motion, he wrapped the charging cable around the man¡¯s throat. The adventurer gasped, thrashing wildly. His hands clawed at the cord, kicking his legs, trying to throw the hero off. But the hero held on, gritting his teeth. (Please¡­ don¡¯t break¡­ Please¡­ don¡¯t break¡­!) The adventurer¡¯s movements weakened. His struggles slowed. And then¡­ He stopped. --- Silence. The hero slowly loosened his grip. The adventurer did not move. His heart pounded. He lifted his hands, staring at them. "I¡­ just killed someone." --- For a long time, he just sat there, motionless. A distant bell rang, breaking him out of his trance. No. No time for this. He moved quickly, stripping the body of its armor, its clothes, its money. His heart was pounding, his hands shaking. He shoved his own clothes into his bag, put on the adventurer¡¯s gear, and slung the stolen sword over his back. Then, with one last glance at the body, he dragged it further into the alleyway. Away from sight. Away from the evidence. --- His breathing was ragged. His stomach churned. But he was alive. "Survival first." "Everything else comes later." And with that, he disappeared into the night. Chapter 4: First Sin, First Night The hero now had new clothes, a light set of armor, a sword, and a bit of stolen money. But none of it changed the truth¡ªhis body was weakening, the pain was returning, and he had to find a place to rest before it got worse. Even at night, the city was noisy and filthy. He walked past corpses, sick beggars groaning in the alleys, and shady men watching him from the shadows. He kept his head down. He was sick. He was lost. And worst of all¡­ He was a killer. --- Then, he saw it. A flickering wooden sign swinging in the wind. This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it. "Adventurers¡¯ Guild" His heart almost leapt out of his chest. ¡°Finally!¡± he shouted out loud, too relieved to stop himself. People nearby stared. Embarrassed, he rushed toward the door¡ªbut his breath failed him halfway. He coughed violently, blood touching his lips again. Still, he forced himself inside. --- The guild hall was dimly lit and nearly empty. Just a few adventurers sat drinking and chatting. He walked to the counter and saw the receptionist: A girl with cat ears¡­ and a metal collar around her neck. (A slave¡­ just like in the rest of this cruel world.) She looked exhausted¡ªdark circles under her eyes, her body frail like she hadn¡¯t eaten in days. Yet, she gave him a tired smile. ¡°Welcome to the Adventurers¡¯ Guild. How may I help you?¡± He hesitated. ¡°¡­I want to register.¡± She pulled out a form and handed it to him. ¡°Please write your name, combat style, and the religion you belong to. Then, sign it with your blood¡ªjust a small cut on your finger will do.¡± ¡°Religion?¡± he blinked. He remembered the church. That name¡­ He wrote: Obscurus Then pricked his finger and marked the paper. The girl took it, muttered a spell, and handed him a guild card. It glowed faintly with his name, class, and chosen faith. But¡ª ¡°¡­There¡¯s no rank?¡± he asked. The girl replied quietly: ¡°Ranks were abolished long ago. When Emperor Xeus came to power, he erased the entire ranking system. Now, anyone can fight whatever they choose.¡± There was a flicker of passion in her voice¡ªbut only for a second. Then, she returned to her lifeless expression. ¡°¡­What about registration fees?¡± he asked. She replied without emotion. ¡°Also abolished. Emperor Xeus wanted everyone to have the freedom to follow their dreams.¡± (Freedom, huh¡­) He took his card and walked away, pulling out a chair near the corner. With a whisper, he prayed: ¡°Please¡­ let the pain stay away tonight.¡± And he placed his head on the table, falling asleep before the candle could even burn halfway down. Chapter 5: Me or Them When the hero lifted his head, the sunlight pouring through the window hit his face. Morning had come. It was his first night spent in this summoned world. The guild hall was already full of adventurers. He stood up quickly and walked toward the quest board. It was covered in papers offering all kinds of jobs¡ª Herb collection, animal hunting, or monster extermination. Just as he was about to grab an herb-gathering quest, another adventurer snatched it first. Now, only dangerous ones were left. The hero¡¯s eyes locked onto one in particular: Goblin Cave Extermination. According to the paper, several humans¡ªmostly women¡ªwere being held captive inside. The reason didn¡¯t need to be explained. It also stated clearly: Only male adventurers may take this quest. Rescuing hostages is optional. Proof of extermination: Goblin ears. The hero walked to the reception counter. Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon. The cat-eared girl from yesterday was gone. In her place stood a new girl with rabbit ears, and like the last, a metal collar wrapped tightly around her neck. ¡°Good morning,¡± the hero said. ¡°Welcome,¡± she responded gently. ¡°How can I assist you?¡± ¡°I¡¯d like to take the goblin cave quest,¡± the hero said. ¡°But... could you tell me more about goblins?¡± ¡°Of course, sir,¡± she replied, opening an old book and reading softly: ¡°Goblins are weak alone, but in groups, they can set traps or attack from a distance. They usually live together in caves. And¡­ goblins only have one gender: male. To reproduce, they use other creatures¡­ including humans.¡± Her voice trembled as she said the last part. The hero nodded, thanked her, and took the quest. Then he left the guild, wondering how to approach the cave. As he walked, he passed through massive stone walls surrounding the city. The foul air and filth of the slums faded, replaced by the scent of trees and fresh grass. He followed the map he bought from the receptionist for three bronze coins. Soon, the forest opened, and he found the cave. --- He stood still. Two choices lay before him: Enter the cave, play the hero, and probably die. Or¡­ use his brain. He chose the second. He remembered something from his old world¡ª How farmers flushed rats out of holes using smoke. That would work. He gathered enough wood and piled it near the cave entrance. Then began stacking medium-sized rocks around the sides. Once the stones reached his waist, he lit the wood with his old-world lighter. Flames roared to life. The hero quickly kept adding rocks, building a makeshift wall. He used the remaining wood to strengthen the structure. Then he sat down under a nearby tree. Inside the cave, everything¡ªgoblins and humans alike¡ªwas choking in smoke. The hero began to cry, leaning his head back against the trunk. The sadness twisted inside him, But then, a wave of coughing overtook him. He couldn¡¯t breathe. Gripping his chest, he fumbled into his bag, pulled out the small vial the priest had given him, and drank it all. His hands were shaking. His mouth tasted of blood and tears. He wiped them both away. He felt¡­ slightly better. But he knew. He was dying. The gods had reminded him of that. Or maybe¡­ it was just a coincidence. From the cave, screams echoed. The fire had grown larger. Smoke hissed through the gaps between the rocks. The goblins never made it to the entrance¡ª A wall of flame blocked their escape. The hero watched anxiously, hoping nothing would break through. But his vision blurred. Sleep was pulling him down. Maybe it was the medicine. He tried to stay awake. He needed to wait for the fire to burn out. But eventually, he gave up. And fell asleep beneath the tree¡ª while the cave burned behind him. Chapter 6: Familiar Scent The hero opened his eyes. The sun was setting¡ªhe had been asleep for hours. He slowly stood up, his body heavy. The curse was spreading deeper into his flesh, rotting him from the inside out. He took a deep breath and walked toward the cave. The entrance was still blocked with the stones he had stacked earlier. One by one, he began removing them. As soon as the air from inside hit him, a familiar scent struck his nose. ¡ªBurnt meat. ¡ªCharred wood. Ashes from the fire had settled everywhere. He lit a simple torch and drew his sword, stepping into the darkness once again. --- The first goblin corpse he found made him pause. It looked like it had tried to escape the flames¡ªits arm was burned black, and the rest of its body was bruised and mottled with cherry-red blisters. The hero took a breath, raised his hand, and cut off its ear, dropping it into a pouch. Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon. He repeated this five more times as he moved deeper into the cave. The further he went, the thicker the smoke became. It clung to the ceiling, refusing to dissipate, turning every breath into poison. --- Eventually, he reached a wider chamber. This must have been their base. There was still smoke in the air, and it made him cough violently. But the room wasn¡¯t that large. Eight goblin corpses lay scattered around. One of them had a beard, and strange symbols were scrawled across the cave walls. He didn¡¯t stop to analyze them. Just cut off each goblin¡¯s ears, one by one. But the stench¡ª The smell of roasted flesh and old blood¡ª It made his stomach twist. Weapons were strewn across the floor: small blades, crude spears, and what looked like makeshift explosives. Then he noticed it. A room tucked away in the corner, hidden behind hanging cloth. --- "I wish I had never seen it." --- He stepped forward and slowly pulled the cloth aside. Three women. All of them pregnant. Bound by wrists and ankles. Their skin was inflamed, red with bruises and bite marks. Deep scratches covered their bodies. And they weren¡¯t moving. They were already dead. --- The hero stared in horror. Then his body convulsed. He dropped to his knees and vomited. --- His legs shook as he stumbled out of the room and leaned against the stone wall. He clenched his fists. He cursed the gods. He cursed this world. He cursed the goblins. He cursed himself. But none of it made any of it go away. --- He tried to calm down and looked around at the rusted swords and broken weapons. Then a thought struck him. ¡°I took this quest. If someone comes to check¡ª¡± His gaze went blank. ¡°The mission said saving the prisoners was optional. But if someone finds them like this¡­¡± ¡°They¡¯ll think I killed them.¡± His name would be dragged through the mud. He¡¯d be seen as a monster. A murderer. Quickly, he began dragging the goblin corpses into the room. He piled them over the women¡¯s bodies, hiding them beneath rotting flesh. But it wasn¡¯t enough. So he gathered everything he could¡ªtwigs, broken furniture, cloth¡ªand piled it all on top. Then, he set it ablaze. The fire roared inside the cave. He took what supplies he could find and fled back outside. --- He sat down in front of the cave, watching the flames dance and the smoke rise. Then he chuckled quietly to himself. Maybe this would protect his nonexistent honor. Or maybe¡­ He just wanted the guilt to burn along with the corpses. --- As the darkness of night swallowed the cave behind him, the hero turned toward the city. He began to walk. Then, he began to cry. And finally¡ª He started to run. Chapter 7: Hope Drowned in Shadows The hero dashed through the castle gates as night fell. The stench of the city hit him like a wall¡ªbut he didn¡¯t stop. He ran straight toward the Adventurer¡¯s Guild and barged in through the doors. Everyone turned to look. Embarrassed, he quickly made his way to the reception counter. The cat-eared girl was there. But one of her eyes was swollen and bruised. The hero wanted to ask what had happened¡­ But he bit his tongue and pulled out the pouch of goblin ears, handing it over silently. The girl opened the pouch, peered inside, and calmly asked, ¡°May I have your quest form?¡± He quickly handed her the crumpled paper from his pocket. Without a word, she took both and disappeared into the back. He already knew about the metal collar around her neck. But now¡­ shackles were around her ankles too. Like some beast, chained and kept here. ¡°¡­Well, I guess she is part beast,¡± he muttered to himself. The girl returned a moment later. ¡°For completing the quest, His Majesty King Xeus rewards you with 2 iron coins and 10 bronze. Rejoice.¡± This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. Even as she said it, her voice lacked any emotion. She placed the money on the counter. The hero quietly picked up the coins. Then, almost on impulse, he reached into his bag and handed her a sandwich. She froze, eyes widening, before quickly snatching it away and hiding it. ¡°What are you, stupid!?¡± she snapped. The hero flinched. He hadn¡¯t meant any harm. Just¡­ kindness. But her glare was as if she''d cast a curse on him. Without saying another word, he turned and left the guild. --- ¡°So... what now?¡± He thought to himself. He had a little money now. Just enough for two things: 1. Find an inn and sleep in a proper bed 2. Get a potion¡ªor something¡ªto slow the curse That was all. Simple. He began walking. But each step felt like a blade stabbing into his chest. As he pushed forward, the pain grew worse¡ªlike a sword, then a spear, impaling him deeper and deeper. Eventually, he had to stop. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. When he opened them again¡­ He heard it. A scream. --- It came from the alley to his right. Clutching his chest, the hero stumbled toward it. He saw two men harassing a woman. She was well-dressed. The men looked like vagrants¡ªarmed only with broken glass. ¡°¡­Maybe I¡¯ll get rewarded if I save her.¡± He drew his sword and approached. The men ran the moment they saw him. The woman collapsed to the ground. The hero offered his hand. She took it, rising shakily to her feet. Blonde hair, blue eyes¡ªa beauty that seemed like a noblewoman from a storybook. But then¡ª Pain exploded in his chest. He coughed violently, blood spraying from his mouth¡ªonto her fine clothes. Her face twisted in disgust. She recoiled, picking up the things she¡¯d dropped. Bottles. Familiar bottles. They looked exactly like the ones the priest had given him before. --- ¡°¡­If I take them¡­¡± The idea crept in, dark and cold. He moved. Slowly. Silently. And pressed his blade to her neck. But she turned suddenly¡ªand accidentally sliced her own throat. Blood sprayed. She fell, choking on her own screams. Reaching for him with a trembling hand. The hero staggered back, wide-eyed, sword falling from his hand. He clutched his head. Slammed his fists against his skull. Over and over. Begging his brain to forget. --- Then, he ran. Grabbed her bag and fled. He ran until he reached the edge of the city and collapsed. Gasping for air. Dying. With shaking hands, he opened the bag. Grabbed a bottle and drank¡ª Then immediately spat it out. ¡°¡­This isn¡¯t a potion¡­¡± It was perfume. He gagged. Pulled out a juice box from his pack and drained it to wash the taste out. The bottles all had ridiculous names: Chamomile Blade Drown in Roses Love to Death Useless. Fake. The bag contained nothing but money and a woman¡¯s belongings. He slumped against the ground, chest burning with pain. ¡°¡­I¡¯m done.¡± He held one of the perfume bottles¡ªLove to Death. Brought it to his nose, and closed his eyes. But before death could take him¡­ A massive silhouette blocked out the stars above. He had no time to react¡ª A heavy blow struck his head. And the world went black. Chapter 8: The Deal The hero slowly opened his eyes. His head throbbed with pain. Once his vision cleared, he found himself sitting in what looked like a luxurious office. Across from him sat a man in a suit, smiling calmly. The hero tried to move, but his arms and legs were tied to the chair. ¡°Finally awake,¡± the man said. ¡°You slept a lot. Must be tired. You people are fascinating¡ªyou murder innocents and still sleep like babies.¡± While the man spoke, the hero scanned the room. It looked like a CEO¡¯s office, furnished with polished wood and leather chairs. Outside the wide windows stretched peaceful greenery. But inside him, pain began to stir again. Through gritted teeth, the hero muttered, ¡°Who the hell are you?¡± The suited man leaned back. ¡°You could say¡­ I¡¯m a relative of that woman you killed and robbed.¡± The hero looked down. What was the point of pleading? Should he beg for mercy? Pretend to be sorry? His head was too cloudy to think clearly. Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. Maybe it was better this way. Maybe this time¡­ he¡¯d get a proper isekai. A grin cracked across his face. ¡°So what now? You want me to lick your boots? Become your slave? No, wait¡ªyou¡¯re one of those secret sadists, huh? Gonna chain me up in a basement and torture me?¡± He laughed bitterly. ¡°Do whatever you want. I don¡¯t have much time left anyway. I did everything I could to survive in this shitty world, and look at me. A murderer. A thief. All of this¡­ just because I made a damn wish.¡± His voice rose to a shout. ¡°BIG-TITTIED WARRIOR WOMEN! OVERPOWERED ABILITIES! STUPID ROMANCES! But me?! I¡¯m the guy who gets tossed into a pile of trash! I miss my family! I¡¯m sick of this pain, this world!¡± He paused, breathing heavily. The suited man spoke calmly: ¡°So¡­ you¡¯re from another world. I thought so.¡± ¡°Yeah¡­¡± the hero said, panting. ¡°Well, don¡¯t worry about that girl. I never liked her anyway. Honestly, it worked out. You see, her father owns a perfume empire. Rich, powerful. And my brilliant family thought it¡¯d be a great idea to marry me off to her. Classic, right? But I didn¡¯t want to marry that irritating brat. So thanks. You did me a favor.¡± The hero was fading fast. The pain was too much to bear. The man didn¡¯t seem to care. ¡°You don¡¯t look so good. What¡¯s wrong?¡± ¡°What do you think?¡± the hero growled. ¡°I¡¯m dying.¡± With a sigh, the man pulled a small bottle from his drawer. The hero recognized it instantly. It was identical to the one the high priest had given him. The man snapped his fingers, and a servant entered the room. Without a word, the servant took the bottle, held the hero¡¯s head, and poured it down his throat. The hero drank greedily. For all his dramatic talk¡­ he wanted to live. When the bottle was empty, the servant stepped back. The suited man spoke again: ¡°Let¡¯s make a deal. Become my dog. I¡¯ll feed you, give you medicine, and you keep living. Or walk out that door and keep killing Innocent women and robbing strangers. Your call.¡± The hero didn¡¯t hesitate. ¡°If I¡¯m gonna be your dog¡­ I want a pack. Money. A place to sleep. Food.¡± The man laughed. ¡°Of course. My loyal little puppy gets everything.¡± The hero hated those words. But he stayed quiet. No magical crest appeared on his arm. No sudden rage awakening a godlike power. Only silence. ¡°¡­Fine,¡± the hero said. ¡°I¡¯ll do whatever you want.¡± The man turned to the servant. ¡°Untie him. Give him a room, food, and medicine.¡± The servant obeyed. As he escorted the hero to the door, the man called out one last thing: ¡°You know¡­ dogs don¡¯t do noble things. Don¡¯t think of yourself as a knight. I want you to be a thief. A killer.¡± The hero and the servant left the room. As they walked through the corridor, the hero chuckled to himself. ¡°Looks like I finally found the job I deserve.¡± The servant glanced at him briefly before looking ahead again. They arrived at a guest room. The servant opened the door. ¡°Please wait here. I¡¯ll bring your food and medicine shortly.¡± The hero entered. The door closed behind him. He sat on the bed and thought. And thought. And thought... Chapter 9: The Birth of Fire The hero stared blankly at the wall in front of him. His thoughts were devouring him from the inside. Dying no longer scared him. At least now, he had a roof over his head and a warm meal¡ªsomething he hadn''t had since arriving in this world. But now... he was a dog. A dog to the man in the suit. If he said "kill", he would kill. If he said "steal", he would steal. His train of thought was broken by a knock on the door. "Come in," he said. A servant entered, carrying a tray of food. He placed it on the table without a word and left. The hero sat quickly. He didn''t recognize most of the food, but there was wine in a glass¡ªat least he knew that. There was a pie that looked like something out of an American movie. ¡°Isn¡¯t pie supposed to be sweet?¡± he wondered. He took a spoon and dug in. Inside was a strange mix of chicken and raisins. Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. Unappetizing... but better than starving. He finished it all. Sitting there, stomach full for the first time in ages, he thought: How long did he have left? Three months? Five minutes? The medicine dulled the pain, but it wasn¡¯t a cure. He needed the blood of the goddess¡ªif it even existed. For now, staying near this man and investigating was his only option. If he could form a group, maybe... just maybe, he could find that blood. And maybe escape this cursed fate. He suddenly chuckled to himself. ¡°What have I become? Stealing? Killing? Back in my world, I¡¯d take another street to avoid stepping on an ant. Now I¡¯m dreaming about leading a party¡­ I can¡¯t even swing a sword.¡± He laughed again. ¡°If this guy has some overpowered magic, he could kill me in two seconds. I¡¯m basically a cockroach.¡± A knock at the door. ¡°Come in.¡± The suited man entered. ¡°I see you¡¯ve eaten well. Good, good¡­ but nothing¡¯s free.¡± He spoke bluntly now. ¡°We¡¯ve got financial problems. I want you to sabotage our competitor¡¯s vehicles. Steal, burn, blow them up, kill if you have to¡ªI don¡¯t care how you do it. In two days, they¡¯ll be passing through Keats Road. Six vehicles. Adventurers will be guarding them.¡± The hero frowned. ¡°Did you arrange anyone to help? You want me to charge six vehicles full of armed guards alone?¡± The man burst into laughter. ¡°Are you stupid? You haven¡¯t proven yourself at all yet. Why would I waste resources on someone untested?¡± The hero snapped: ¡°If I die out there, what¡¯s the point of being your damn dog?!¡± The man suddenly grew serious. He grabbed the hero by the collar. ¡°Listen here, mutt. I feed you. I give you medicine. I give you a place to sleep. Shut your mouth and follow orders. I could kill you right here and no one would bat an eye.¡± The hero stared back, shocked and tense. ¡°Okay¡­ okay, I get it.¡± The man released his collar and turned away. He left, slamming the door behind him. The hero stood alone in the room. ¡°Two days. Six cars. Just me.¡± He needed to think. He walked out into the garden, inhaling the fresh air deeply. As he walked, he noticed a servant carrying a crate filled with empty glass bottles. ¡°Hey,¡± the hero called out. ¡°What are those?¡± ¡°Old wine bottles,¡± the servant replied. ¡°They were stored in the cellar. We were going to throw them out.¡± The hero grabbed the crate without hesitation. ¡°I¡¯ll take them. I need them.¡± ¡°And¡­ can you get me about four liters of ethanol?¡± he added. The servant paused for a moment, then nodded. ¡°Well, this mansion belongs to a family in the alcohol business. So that shouldn¡¯t be a problem.¡± The hero blinked in surprise. That was¡­ convenient. ¡°Perfect. If you can, just leave it at my door. Also¡­ any spare cloth or cotton would be helpful.¡± ¡°Give me one day. I¡¯ll deliver everything,¡± the servant said with a slight bow. The hero thanked him and returned to his room, bottles in hand. He placed the crate on his desk. And then¡­ he started to sketch out a plan. Molotov cocktails. An old trick, but effective. If the vehicles were carrying alcohol like the man said, then one good fire could turn the entire caravan into hell. He grabbed a pen and paper. And began to draw. Chapter 10: The Ride to Keats Road The hero had finished planning. His notes were now so scribbled and crossed out that they were unreadable¡ªbut that didn¡¯t matter. Everything was already in his head. The plan was simple: block the road with a wagon, spill some blood to catch attention, and then strike with a barrage of Molotovs. Twelve bottles. That would be enough. The hero didn¡¯t want to hurt innocent people if he could help it. As he glanced outside, he realized it was already evening. He left the desk and collapsed onto the bed. Sleep took him quickly. --- A knock at the door woke the hero at dawn. His body was heavy. The curse was flaring up again. He needed medicine. The hero opened the door. A servant had left his breakfast and medicine on a tray, along with a crate containing bottles, cloth, and alcohol¡ªexactly what he had requested. He sat at the desk, ate quickly, took his medicine, and got to work. It was difficult, but by mid-morning, he had crafted twelve Molotov cocktails. He placed them carefully into the crate and set it aside. Now he needed a wagon. This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version. The hero searched the mansion¡¯s halls but couldn¡¯t find a single servant. So he stepped into the garden. That¡¯s when he saw her. A girl in a flowing white dress, admiring the flowers. Her presence was... serene. He approached hesitantly. ¡°Um... hello?¡± She turned and smiled. ¡°Hello.¡± Short black hair. Crimson eyes. Her appearance was mesmerizing. "I... is no one else here?" She nodded gently. ¡°The servants went to the market. My brother went to see our parents.¡± ¡°Perfect timing...¡± the hero muttered. ¡°I need a wagon.¡± She tilted her head. ¡°There¡¯s one for transport in the front garage. You can take it.¡± Relief washed over him. But then¡ª He remembered a problem. ¡°I... I don¡¯t know how to drive a wagon.¡± The girl blinked, then smiled again. ¡°Want me to help you ?¡± Before he could even answer, she was already walking toward the garage. The hero followed behind, eyes locked on her gentle, graceful steps. They reached a small building. She pointed. ¡°The wagon¡¯s inside. You do know how to drive it¡­ right?¡± The hero couldn¡¯t lie. ¡°No. Not really.¡± She sighed. ¡°Wait here.¡± She disappeared inside. The hero quickly rushed back to his room to retrieve the crate of Molotovs, returning just as she pulled up with the wagon and horse ready. ¡°You''re amazing¡­¡± he muttered under his breath. ¡°Get in,¡± she said, and they set off down the road. --- They rode in silence. The hero glanced at her from the corner of his eye. Every time she looked back, he quickly turned away. Ten minutes later, they arrived. ¡°This is Keats Road,¡± she said. ¡°So¡­ now what?¡± The hero stepped down and unhitched the horse. ¡°Okay, here¡¯s the deal. I stay here, the wagon stays too. You take the horse and go back. You know how to drive this thing, so I assume you can ride too.¡± She chuckled and mounted the horse. ¡°So this is what my brother was planning¡­¡± ¡°I hope you succeed,¡± she added softly, then rode off. The hero was alone again. --- He pushed the wagon off the main road and into the bushes, then checked the Molotovs in the back. No sword. No weapon. Just bottles of fire. Not the greatest plan... but it was all he had. The hero sat in the back and opened the old map the man had given him. He realized something terrible: He had no clue when the convoy would arrive. No exact time. No description. Nothing. ¡°Damn it¡­¡± he whispered, and hit his forehead with his palm. That¡¯s when he heard it¡ª Rustling. From the bushes. He stood up quickly and grabbed one Molotov. ¡°Who''s there?! Show yourself!¡± A figure stepped out. A woman in a suit¡­ wearing a mask. He backed away cautiously. She approached. The hero lit his lighter, ready to throw¡ª But the mask opened its mouth and¡­ spoke. ¡°Whoa whoa, relax, idiot. It¡¯s me¡ªyour boss.¡± That voice. It was him. The man in the suit. The mask on the woman¡¯s face moved like a real mouth¡ªunnerving and metallic. ¡°Look,¡± the voice continued, ¡°I forgot to give you some info. They¡¯ll be passing by tomorrow. Early morning. Around six to eight. Look for wagons with a rose symbol on them.¡± The woman pulled something from her coat and tossed it. A small spyglass. The hero tried to catch it¡ªbarely. ¡°Oh, and try not to screw this up.¡± The mask stopped moving. The woman turned and disappeared into the darkness of the forest. The hero placed the Molotov back into the crate and stared at the spyglass. He set an alarm on the old watch tied to his wrist, sat down¡­ and waited. His hands trembled. He was scared.