Chapter 2: Charlotte and the Black-Haired Swordsman◇

Wow. This man is unbelievably strong.

The monsters that had given us so much trouble earlier, he cuts them down with ease. Even sudden ambushes don’t faze him, and his pace never slows.

I follow after him as quietly as I can, killing my footsteps. He radiates a murderous aura, like he’d kill anything that dared approach, yet he walks on without saying a word.

He must have noticed I’m tailing him. Which means… I guess he’s allowing me to follow, for now. Otherwise, I’d have been cut down already.

…Looking at him more closely, damn, he’s ridiculously handsome.

Sharp, refined features. Cool, narrow eyes. Tall, with short black hair neatly trimmed. He looks well-kept too. Maybe he lives a pretty good life?

Well, that would make sense. With strength like his, he’d never go hungry as an adventurer.

His gear is simple—just a one-handed sword—but when I look carefully, both his armor and weapon are clearly high-quality. Not some cheap junk.

Handsome, cool, insanely strong… Why couldn’t I have been reborn as someone like him? This is exactly the kind of person you need to be to survive in this world.

Thinking that, I can’t help but sigh.

"—Stop making unnecessary noise."

"Hyai!"

"You’re distracting me. If you’re going to be a nuisance, then leave. Otherwise…"

His sharp glare pierces me, and all I can do is shrink back into silence.

In a dungeon, there’s no law. Even if he decided to assault me here, discard me, and silence me with a blade afterward, nobody outside would ever care.

Especially now, I’m nothing but a powerless little girl who can’t even use healing magic anymore. I have no way to resist.

I don’t want that kind of end. If I’m going to die, I’d at least like to keep my dignity.

So I keep quiet, holding my breath, following after him. The click-clack of our boots on the stone floor echoes down the narrow passage.

Every time he stops, I stop. When he glances back and then loses interest, I start walking again as he does.

It happens so many times that I start getting used to it—enough to throw in a nervous smile now and then.

Each time, though, he just frowns and turns back ahead. Honestly, it’s insulting. If he doesn’t like looking at my face, then stop turning around in the first place!

As we go on like this, I eventually notice something.

"…Um."

"What is it."

"You’re not taking the monsters’ magic stones…?"

I ask him timidly. I’m scared he’ll cut me down for speaking, but I can’t stop myself. It’s just too strange.

He slays the monsters, sure—but he doesn’t collect a single magic stone. It’s like that’s not his goal at all.

In dungeons, the main prize is always the stones monsters leave behind.

In this catacomb-themed dungeon, undead magic stones can be harvested. They’re used for things like antidote potions, making them high in demand and worth decent money.

Hunt five of them, and for a party of four, it’s enough to live modestly for a whole day.

The environment’s nasty, sure, but the monsters are weak, and the money’s good. That’s why beginners love this place.

"So what."

"Eh? I mean, isn’t that what people come here for?"

"I don’t need them. Take them if you want."

For a second, I don’t even understand what he’s saying. Someone comes to this dungeon without caring about money?!

The catacombs are dark and cramped, crawling with filthy monsters, reeking of corpses. Without the stones, there’s absolutely nothing good about this place!

After hesitating a moment, I decide to harvest the stones from the monsters he’s left behind. Otherwise, I’ll have gone into the dungeon for nothing. At least I want a little profit.

I need money for my goal. Even a little helps.

Meanwhile, he keeps going deeper and deeper, so I hurry after him. Please don’t leave me behind—if I run into monsters alone, I’ll die for sure.

So I trail him, stopping now and then to grab stones from the monsters he’s cut down.

"Oh, looky here, another adventurer."

"Hey, hey, you’re bringing along a cute little thing, aren’t ya?"

As we’re moving deeper, two rough-looking men come around a corner. Adventurers, probably.

Since this dungeon’s good money for its difficulty, it’s common to run into others. But the moment I see these two, I can’t help but grimace.

People this openly scummy are rare even above ground.

Their eyes lock on me, running up and down my body with a gross, lingering stare. Disgusting! I instinctively hide behind the swordsman. He lets his sword ring in its sheath, but doesn’t draw it—so at least they won’t be killing us outright. Thank god.

"Perfect timing. Hey, you there. Leave the girl and the stones."

"Oh? You dare give me orders?"

The swordsman looks about ready to draw his blade, and the two thugs suddenly look uneasy.

Even I can feel the suffocating killing intent he’s giving off. It’s not even directed at me, but it still makes my crotch clench. Pathetic as it is, I’ve already emptied myself, so there’s nothing left to leak.

"Whoa, calm down, man. From the looks of it, she’s just tailing you, right? Then let us take her off your hands. How about it?"

"…I don’t like troublesome things. So yes, this has nothing to do with me—"

"Wait, wait, please wait!"

I blurt it out without thinking. He was just about to wash his hands of me, wasn’t he?!

That’s bad. Really bad. I can’t handle these guys on my own. I have to get him to protect me somehow.

The risk of him cutting me down? Still better than being handed over to these creeps!

"What is it."

The man looked at me with clear displeasure.

I almost tried to cling to him, but his sharp gaze pierced through me and I stopped. Instead, I pleaded from where I stood.

"Please. Don’t hand me over, save me."

"And why should I do that?"

"I’m begging you, I’ll be useful, I’ll do anything!"

His doubtful stare stabbed into me. He clearly wasn’t convinced I could be of any use.

And I couldn’t guarantee I’d be useful either. But if he handed me over to these men, I knew exactly what would happen.

If that’s the choice, then betting on this man—who at least seems to have some shred of self-control—is the better option! No doubt about it, even if it means risking empty promises.

"Please, I’m begging you. Anything, absolutely anything."

"But—"

I sensed something off and shifted my eyes away from the black-haired man.

Behind him, the two thugs had drawn a sword and an axe.

"Now! Die!"

"Too bad, but in a dungeon, the law doesn’t apply!"

They were going to kill him with a sneak attack…!

The two swung their weapons down toward him.

I shut my eyes tight, crouching and clutching my head, bracing for the horrific scene. But no death scream came.

"—So, you bastards really do have a death wish?"

"Wha—!?"

Peeking through half-open eyes, I saw him. He had drawn his sword, effortlessly blocking both of their weapons at once. A single blade against two simultaneous strikes.

He hadn’t even been looking at them. Until just a moment ago, he’d been facing me.

"I see… 'the law doesn’t apply in a dungeon,' is that right?"

"Grgh, don’t get cocky!"

They pressed harder with their weapons, but nothing budged. Not even an inch. They were being overpowered. Just who the hell is this man?

"Then if I cut you both down here, I won’t be guilty of anything."

His sword swung.

The blade, glinting dully, swept through like a storm, brutally severing both of their arms.

For a moment, the two couldn’t even comprehend what had happened. They just stared, blankly, at the empty space where their arms used to be.

"Wh-what, nooooooooooooooooooo!?"

"Shut up. Don’t scream just because you lost an arm."

Blood sprayed violently from the stumps.

The man seemed utterly unmoved by the gore splattering on him. He simply watched them, quiet and calm, while they shrieked. Then, with a flick of his sword, he cast the blood aside.

"This disgusts me. If you value your lives, disappear from my sight right now. Show your faces again, and I’ll finish you."

"H-hiiiiiiiii!!"

Defeated, their arms gone, their spirits broken, the two howled pitifully and fled in a panic.

…No, seriously, this guy is way too strong.

The badges hanging from their necks marked them as bronze-class adventurers. Meaning they weren’t beginners anymore.

And yet he’d crushed them as easily as twisting a child’s arm. He could have killed them outright, but he had the composure to only take their arms.

The man wiped the blood from his sword with a rag, tossed it aside, and turned back toward me.

I froze on instinct. Crap—did something I say offend him? Am I next?

"Hey, girl."

"Hyai! P-please, don’t kill me…!"

I tried at least begging for my life. I don’t want to die.

He tilted his head slightly, as if confused, then straightened again and fixed his gaze on me.

"Earlier, you said you’d do anything."

"Y-yes! I did!"

"You weren’t lying, were you."

"I wasn’t lying, I’ll do anything! Just don’t kill me!"

I screamed desperately, begging with everything I had. I don’t want to die.

"Then good. I’ll make use of you. Follow me."

"…Huh?"

"I said follow me. Come, girl."

That was all he said before turning again, walking deeper into the dungeon.

For a moment, my thoughts froze. Then I snapped back and rushed after him.

Running away had never been an option, but now it was clear: I’d have to stick with this man.

I just don’t want to die. If it means survival, I’ll do anything. There was no lie in that resolve.