No to Being the Suffering Heroine!

Others’ predictable thoughts are not good thoughts.

That was my belief.

=====[ Pesengwigel South, Street of Adventures ]=====

“Let’s call it a day. You’ve all done well.”

“Thank you for your hard work, Guild Master!”

“Thanks for your efforts!”

In a well-decorated office, the one-eyed middle-aged man at the head table put down his quill and declared the end of work. The employees in front of him all sprang up in unison, bending at the waist to give their leave-takings.

They all had rather grim expressions, moving as if they were one body.

They resembled not mere office workers, but rather the leaders of a gang meeting.

Well, technically speaking, it wasn’t wrong.

They were not just simple office employees; they were seasoned executives who had been active for many years within the Pesengwigel Adventurer Guild.

Having earned Haval’s trust and gained the privilege to be involved in guild operations, they were murderers who had gone through countless battles and bloodshed.

Now, Haval, the Guild Master, was naturally a murderer among murderers who surpassed them.

Of course, being skilled in murder and being strong are two separate matters.

Even if Haval’s power were overestimated, he was evidently beneath Lakan, so he had to suppress his ambitions of swallowing organizations like Pesengwigel and lay low, dedicating himself to schemes and plots.

If he confronted them head-on, not only would he fail to crush Pesengwigel, but the guild would also suffer a devastating defeat.

Even if a miracle occurred and he won, he would still lose most of his core forces in the process. Winning under such circumstances only awaited ruin.

Would Yuron of the Guild or Cornelo of the Piacere sit idly by after witnessing such a sight?

‘No way that would happen.’

Surely, they would intervene under the pretense of ensuring Pesengwigel’s stability, swallowing the weakened guild whole.

And meanwhile, they’d behead the core executives like Haval, trying to display them on poles in the square.

Even if they aimed at another organization instead of Pesengwigel, the outcome would be the same.

As long as Piacere and the Guild remained intact, a full-blown war with other organizations would only result in mutual destruction.

Haval was convinced of that—no, he was certain.

And because he was certain, he dedicated himself to subtle behind-the-scenes maneuvers rather than making open moves.

The plan to ambush Pesengwigel heading to the slums and inciting a large-scale bloodbath, pulling the Guild into fighting each other, was part of such scheming.

Though it failed because Lakan retreated midway.

◆◆

The Pesengwigel Adventurer Guild’s work ends every evening at 9 PM.

No exceptions, even if tons of unfinished business pile up. This was due to Haval’s personal obsessions and paranoia regarding the management of the guild.

Haval, now a middle-aged man, began to take more care of his health compared to his youth, and not working overtime was also part of that health management.

A regular lifestyle and sufficient rest were the secrets to a long life without sickness.

At least, Haval believed so, which is why he was obsessively dedicated to maintaining his daily schedule.

That’s why, regardless of how much work remained, once the clock struck the designated hour, he always tried to stop work and go home.

The problem was that once he left, it was anyone’s guess what the remaining guild employees would concoct in the absence of his gaze.

In front of the executives, he often babbled on about how much he trusted them, but that was just a facade.

Haval secretly thought of them as untrustworthy thugs and didn’t want to leave them in a guild building he had no confidence in.

Joining that suspicion with his described obsession, a tradition of a group-leaving culture where all guild employees stopped work and headed home at 9 PM was established.

“Then, I’ll be heading back now!”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Guild Master!”

“Yeah, see you tomorrow.”

Today was no exception.

As soon as the clock struck 9, Haval promptly declared the end of work, sent everyone but the guard-slave outside the guild, and finished preparing to head home himself.

Preparation was hardly grand; gathering important documents and defensive weapons, donning armor and a cloak was all it took.

However, Haval’s mansion was located right behind the guild building, so there was almost no need for armor; still, he couldn’t let his guard down.

To be prepared for any potential ambush or accident, Haval insisted on being fully armored, albeit cumbersome, whenever he stepped outside.

“Haval, right?”

Of course, if you were to ask whether such obsessions and caution truly contributed to his longevity…

“Just as I predicted. They said you’d be here around this time, and they were right.”

…only after safely passing this moment would he be able to answer.

◆◆

– Boom!

On the eerie night streets.

A sudden appearance of an unwanted guest leaping down from the roof of a one-story house blocked Haval’s path. He glared at the intruder with a stiffened face, gripping the hilt of his great sword.

There’s an old saying: “Good things do not come easy; those who arrive uninvited bear no goodwill.”

Though Haval didn’t know the saying, he could plainly discern that someone standing with a sword drawn in the dead of night was no ally.

“Who are you? Do you even know who I am…!”

His one eye carried a clear hostility as he glared at the shadowy figure obscured in darkness.

“Who am I? The head of a trash gang that’s gone down the drain… the one-eyed Haval, right?”

The low-toned voice of a woman filled with murderous intent.

The dim moonlight settled upon the intruder’s shoulders, slowly illuminating the woman’s figure as she approached.

“Am I wrong?”

A sloppy black cloak seemed hastily thrown together, inside of which were concealed dark-gray armor. In her right hand, she held an intricately crafted golden-handled sword.

There was no way Haval wouldn’t recognize her.

“Krimhilde…!”

The nightmare of beggars and riffraff marked as the culprit of the slum’s carnage, the Shadow of the Eagle’s Krimhilde.

“You know me? Well, it’s true. You couldn’t possibly not.”

There she was, in front of Haval.

“…How did you find me?”

“Your little habit of returning home at nine has spread like wildfire.”

“I never told anyone the location of my mansion. I moved among my scattered subordinates, so you shouldn’t have been able to pinpoint me directly.”

“The smell is different. Our dog has a good nose.”

A brief exchange of words. With each answer returned to Haval’s questions, his face grew darker, while the smirk on Krimhilde’s lips deepened endlessly.

“I came to find you because—”

“Are you really asking that? The one who used me as a pawn to pull off such dirty tricks?”

Her attitude showed no intention of concealing her true motive. From within her helmet, eyes filled with deep malice flickered like ghastly will-o’-the-wisps in a graveyard.

“Planning plots must have been fun, right? But pleasant times never last long. Now, it’s time to pay the price.”

“Wait, that’s a misunderstanding…!”

“No, it isn’t. You know it’s true.”

Haval’s desperate attempts at damage control were clearly not on Krimhilde’s agenda.

She firmly gripped her longsword with both hands and charged at Haval without a moment’s hesitation.

For Haval, it was a behavior that led him to lament having another foe like Lakan on the scene.

“Is she crazy?! What on earth is she thinking…!”

Haval reflexively drew his great sword, taking a defensive stance, suppressing the bewilderment inside his chest.

‘She’s trying to kill me so openly? Right after the slum situation calms down?’

This was something even he hadn’t anticipated.

Who would have guessed that someone who had endured such tragedies and bloodshed would suddenly go berserk just like that?

Even if one were not wise, a normal person would need at least three days to process the situation and compose themselves before returning.

‘Is this woman not thinking about the aftermath at all?!’

Her timing was not just off; the very actions she was taking exceeded his common sense.

To openly attack and kill him like this would turn not only the guild but also other organizations like Piacere into partial enemies.

Assassinations were already a frequent occurrence, but charging into the streets to carry out such acts was an outright disregard for the city’s implicit order.

This was nothing short of declaring war against the Piacere Family, which valued order in the city.

Immediately after entering the city, she took down Abandon, fought Lakan the next day, thereby becoming Pesengwigel’s enemy, and now assaulted Haval, turning both the guild and Piacere against her simultaneously.

By now, even the Guild and Maenades would likely not view her favorably, meaning she had effectively alienated herself from every organization in the city within just two days of her arrival.

At this point, it was beyond being described as a reckless path; it was akin to a moth diving into a blazing fire—or the reckless behavior of a lunatic who sees nothing ahead.

“Well, what is she thinking?”

Whether Krimhilde knew of Haval’s thoughts or not, she merely laughed sinisterly and swung her longsword at him like lightning.

“I bet you don’t know? That’s why I’m here. I thought you wouldn’t see this coming. You didn’t know, so you couldn’t prepare.”

“You plotted to exploit my overconfidence…?”

“Exactly?”

– Boom!

With her answer, the sound of clashing erupted. Haval, having parried Krimhilde’s longsword with his great sword, was sent flying back into a wall.

Though he had managed to fend it off somehow, the sheer force was truly terrifying.

---