Shattered Innocence: Transmigrated Into a Novel as an Extra

CREAK!

The door opened.

It was not particularly loud or anything, it just happened that Kaelen was looking at the door at that time.

Kaelen's gaze lingered on the door as it creaked open, almost as if his unspoken wish had summoned something—or someone. The bustling noise of the guild seemed to fade for a moment as a figure stepped through, cloaked in dark fabric that fluttered slightly with the motion. The figure's movements were deliberate, not hurried yet not hesitant either, exuding a quiet confidence that immediately drew Kaelen's attention.

The young mercenary frowned slightly, realizing he didn't recognize the person. Over the past week of frequent visits to the guild, Kaelen had familiarized himself with many of the regulars, from seasoned veterans to fellow newcomers like himself. This stranger wasn't one of them. That left only two possibilities: either they were a client looking to hire or another mercenary—but one clearly from out of town.

The figure paused just inside the door, surveying the room with a detached air before pulling back their hood. The dark cloak slipped away to reveal a man with sharp, angular features. His face was pale but unremarkable at first glance—average, almost forgettable, if not for the quiet intensity in his demeanor. However, as Kaelen's eyes traveled upward, they caught on two things that immediately set this man apart.

The first was his eyes—pitch black and slightly unnatural. There was no glimmer, only an unsettling void that seemed to swallow light. They weren't the eyes of someone afflicted or weak, though. Instead, they carried an unyielding focus, a calm yet disquieting presence that made Kaelen's breath hitch momentarily.

The second was a long scar running diagonally across his right eye, stark and jagged against his otherwise smooth skin. It was the kind of mark that told a story of survival, a battle fought and barely won. Yet, despite the obvious injury, the man's posture betrayed no weakness or hesitation.

Kaelen blinked, forcing himself to look away before he stared too long. There were plenty of strange sights in Halvath, and he reminded himself not to dwell on them. Still, something about this man unnerved him in a way he couldn't quite explain. He wasn't outwardly threatening—no bulky armor or oversized weapon—yet his very presence seemed to shift the atmosphere in the guild, drawing glances and murmurs from others.

Kaelen leaned against the nearby wall, his arms crossed, as he watched the stranger make his way toward the receptionist's desk. With nothing else to occupy his time—his only job opportunity stolen by the Mad Dog mercenary—he had little else to do but observe. The stranger moved with an air of calm purpose, weaving through the bustling hall with an ease that made others instinctively step aside.

The receptionist, a sharp-featured woman named Mira, was perched behind the desk. Mira was well-known among the mercenaries for her no-nonsense attitude and meticulous organization. She rarely minced words and was quick to dismiss anyone who didn't meet the guild's standards.

The stranger reached the desk, placing his hands lightly on the counter. His voice was calm but firm, carrying just enough volume to cut through the noise around them. "I'm looking to hire a group of mercenaries."

Mira glanced up from her ledger, raising an eyebrow as she surveyed him. "You've come to the right place. But first, let's get the basics out of the way. What kind of job are we talking about?"

"A clean-up job, let's say."

Mira's pen paused mid-scratch as the stranger's words registered. Her sharp eyes flicked up from the ledger, narrowing slightly. "A clean-up job, huh?" she said, her tone neutral but carrying an edge. Around her, a few nearby mercenaries stilled, their ears perking up despite themselves.

The term wasn't uncommon in Halvath, but it carried a weight that everyone in the guild understood. Clean-up jobs were rarely glamorous; they often involved rooting out bandit dens, clearing dangerous beasts, or wiping out groups that someone powerful wanted gone—quietly. These jobs came with high risks and even higher moral ambiguity, something that didn't sit well with everyone. But in the world of mercenaries, coin spoke louder than ethics.

"That's going to be expensive," Mira continued, setting her pen down and

"That's going to be expensive," Mira continued, setting her pen down and folding her hands atop the desk. "How many people are you looking to hire?"

"Twenty," the stranger replied evenly, his tone unchanging.

A soft murmur rippled through the mercenaries gathered nearby. Even Mira raised an eyebrow at the number, her sharp features hardening into skepticism. "Twenty mercenaries for a clean-up job? That's not a request you hear every day." She leaned back slightly in her chair, her fingers drumming against the wood of the desk. "You do realize that even assembling a group that size, let alone paying them, is no small matter."

"I'm aware," the man said, his black eyes unflinching. "But the job warrants it."

"Does it?" Mira pressed, her tone sharpening slightly. "You're asking for a small army. That means either the target's bigger than most bandit groups, or you're hiding something."

The stranger remained calm, his posture unchanging. "The target is large enough to warrant twenty. I'm willing to provide details once terms are agreed upon."

Mira studied him for a moment, her eyes narrowing further. "Fine. Let's talk terms. A job like this is going to cost you a fortune. Twenty mercenaries, even at standard rates, would run you thousands of silver pieces—likely more, depending on the specifics."

The man reached into his cloak and produced a pouch, setting it lightly on the desk. Mira opened it and began counting the coins inside with practiced efficiency. After a moment, she frowned and set the pouch aside.

"This isn't even a fraction of what you'd need for a job that size," she said bluntly. "You could hire two, maybe three people for this amount. If you're looking for twenty, you're going to need a much bigger budget."

Kaelen, still leaning against the wall, let out a quiet scoff. What is this guy thinking? Twenty mercenaries? Does he think we're that desperate? He shook his head slightly, muttering under his breath. No way anyone here is signing up for this.

The stranger didn't react to Mira's dismissal. Instead, he leaned slightly closer, lowering his voice so that only Mira—and a few eavesdroppers like Kaelen—could hear. "That's an advance. I'll provide the rest once the job is completed."

Mira snorted, folding her arms. "You think anyone here's going to trust that? Advance or not, twenty mercenaries aren't going to sign on without guarantees."

"You misunderstand," the stranger said calmly, his voice still firm but polite. "I'm not looking for twenty random mercenaries. I'm looking for twenty capable ones. People are willing to take risks. And I suspect I'll find them here."

Mira raised an eyebrow, her gaze sharp. "Capable? Sure. But risks? No one here's going to risk their life on promises, especially not for a clean-up job you're being so cagey about."

Kaelen's curiosity deepened despite his earlier scoffing. He watched the stranger closely, trying to gauge whether he was serious or simply desperate. The scarred man's composure didn't falter, even under Mira's scrutiny. There was something unnerving about how calm he remained as if he already knew how this conversation would play out. Explore new worlds at empire

The stranger remained silent for a beat, his dark eyes steady on Mira, who met his gaze with a sigh of exasperation. She leaned back in her chair, her fingers tapping against the desk rhythmically.

"Well, if you're dead set on finding someone who'll take a commission like this, even with your... budget constraints, there is a group." Mira paused, glancing around the room, almost as if to ensure no one else was within earshot. Her voice dropped slightly as she continued, "But I'll warn you, they're not exactly the most reliable."

The stranger tilted his head slightly, his curiosity piqued. "Who?"

Mira hesitated for a moment before replying, her tone heavy with skepticism. "The Mad Dogs."

A faint smile tugged at the corner of the stranger's lips as he repeated the name, his voice carrying a subtle undertone of amusement. "Mad Dogs? Quite a name."

Mira nodded, her expression darkening. "Indeed. It's not just a nickname—it's a reputation. They're skilled, I'll give them that. But they're reckless, chaotic, and about as trustworthy as a viper in your boot. If you hire them, expect trouble."

"Trouble doesn't bother me," the stranger replied calmly, his faint smile lingering. "Sometimes, it's the troublemakers who get things done."

Mira narrowed her eyes, studying him for a moment. "You might think that now, but I've seen clients regret working with them more times than I can count. They've got the talent to back up their bravado, but they've also got a habit of turning on their employers if the job goes south—or if they think they're not being paid enough."

The stranger leaned forward slightly, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. "Where can I find them?"

Mira sighed again, pinching the bridge of her nose as if trying to stave off a headache. "They're camped just outside the city. They're not welcome within the walls for... obvious reasons. But before you go running off to them, I have to ask—are you sure about this? There are plenty of other options if you're willing to adjust your expectations."

"Mad Dogs," the stranger repeated, ignoring her question as he stood straight once more. "Thank you for the information."

Mira muttered under her breath, shaking her head as she returned to her ledger. "Your funeral."

Kaelen, still leaning against the wall, watched as the scarred man turned and walked toward the door with that same deliberate stride, his dark cloak fluttering slightly behind him. There was something unsettling about the way he carried himself—calm, assured as if he'd already made up his mind long before entering the guild.

As the door creaked shut behind the stranger, Kaelen couldn't help but wonder what kind of person would willingly seek out the Mad Dogs—and what kind of job could possibly warrant it.