Chapter 5: The brain washer is too kind(5)
[Level 3 Quest Acceptance Conditions]
- Level 1 Quests Completed: 20/20
- Level 2 Quests Completed: 10/10
Before the dashboard could even display the completion mark, Mother slammed her fist on the table and slapped down a quest paper.
“Give me a Level 3.”
The receptionist shook her head.
“You need to form a party.”
“That wasn’t part of the deal.”
“It’s because you brought kids. The booth’s counter only detects the number of people present.”
[Quest Participants: 3/2]
It’s true.
I grabbed Anna’s hand and quietly stepped outside the booth.
[Quest Participants: 1/2]
A beep sounded, and a red window popped up immediately.
Clearly below the required threshold.
“I’ve proven my achievements and combat skills. I don’t need a party.”
“If you’re bringing kids, you must have one. High-intelligence monsters can exploit weaknesses, and from Level 3, our guild has determined that no matter what, you can’t protect your children alone from every unexpected situation!”
“And if I don’t accept that?”
“Unfortunately, we’ll have to reject all Level 3 or higher quests you bring.”
“No matter what you say, I’ll prove it. I’ll do it all alone.”
Mother tore open five Level 2 quest papers at once.
Long-term missions.
Unlike the day trips or overnight adventures so far, these would take at least two days.
Practically requiring the combat strength needed for a Level 3 quest.
The receptionist panicked and tried to stop her, but Mother grabbed her by the collar and shook her.
“Kyaa!”
“Take it.”
“Please, spare me!”
“Take it.”
“Save me!”
“Take it.”
“I’ll take it!”
Only after accepting the quests was the receptionist freed from the high-stakes game, finally able to sit back down.
In this gender-reversed world where women were rough, the receptionist sister suffered pitifully.
Her shirt loosened from the grabbing, revealing a glimpse of cleavage, but I naturally turned my head away.
“Take it! Take it!”
Thanks to our fierce Mother, Anna, all excited, started bossing around, shoving pebbles, worms, or frogs she found on the road.
The frog was a bit much.
“Old hag. You there?”
Before setting out, Mother knocked on the door of the house next to ours in the alley.
An old woman with a grim face peered through the cracked door, glaring at Mother with suspicion.
“What do you want?”
“Selling the house.”
“You crazy? Think you’re gonna make it big? You’ll just come crawling back.”
“If you’re not buying, I’m leaving.”
“Hmph. It’s a cheap, worthless house. Thirty coppers.”
“Fifty coppers and a bag.”
“What’s the bag for?”
“For the kids.”
The old woman’s gaze landed on me and Anna.
Anna flinched, as if she’d locked eyes with a wicked witch from a fairy tale.
Unlike my sister, who hid behind me, I didn’t avert my eyes, and the old woman gave me a disapproving look.
“Your son’s too trusting. Keep an eye on him.”
“I know.”
“Fifty coppers and a bag. Food’s a bonus.”
The old woman was a pawnbroker.
We got a decent bag and some preserved food.
The fifty coppers from selling the house went toward adventure preparations.
Mother was a bit different from the typical Level 2 adventurers.
Normally, they don’t spend on preparations.
They beat up some easy monsters, spend their earnings on food, drink, and fun, living day to day.
A life without a tomorrow doesn’t invest in one.
Tomorrow’s self is a stranger.
Only today’s self matters.
Mother was different.
Not like her drunkard days.
Now, she seemed to have a future.
What’s in Mother’s future?
I still don’t know.
The forest outside the village.
Despite its uninspired name, it’s home to dangerous monsters that can tear humans apart.
Monsters drawn by the mana from a nearby city’s mana waste facility.
Hiring guards costs too much if they get hurt, and mercenaries are pricey.
Adventurers fill that gap.
A Level 3 adventurer can earn a steady income.
Level 2 adventurers risk their lives for money.
That’s why the guild requires at least two Level 2 adventurers to take a Level 3 quest.
Alone, there’s no tomorrow.
Too busy scraping by day to day.
Thinking about sharing the load means graduating from that fleeting life.
Better earnings.
A better future.
Starting to think about tomorrow brings responsibility.
Our Mother has no companions but might reach Level 3.
She thinks about tomorrow and has responsibility.
Rustle, rustle.
On the way back after three days away.
The bushes on the path to the village shook suspiciously.
“Ian.”
“Yeah.”
“Don’t stray far.”
The problem is timing and jealousy.
Some nobody.
A nobody like me.
When a Level 2 adventurer tries to climb to Level 3?
Malice comes rushing in.
You can’t rise.
Hand over everything you’ve prepared.
Adventurers crazed with jealousy and greed get involved.
Did the pawnbroker sell not just our house but our personal info too?
“That’s far enough.”
“Got a minute?”
“No escaping now.”
Three women blocked the path ahead and behind.
A scrawny bald woman with a dagger.
A eyebrow-shaved potbelly woman with a club.
A long-haired woman blocking the retreat with brass knuckles.
Each looked scarier than a low-level goblin.
“Please don’t do this.”
I pushed Anna behind me, pleading.
“Sorry, kid.”
The long-haired woman was familiar.
The one who always bought my info with coins, touching my hands.
“You were the only hope in this filthy, stinking alley life. Wisdom to escape poverty. Hope to leave the alleys. I always felt that from you. So where are you going? You have to stay by my side. If I’m stuck here, you can’t leave either!”
For a moment, I felt guilty suspecting the pawnbroker’s betrayal.
The culprit was this woman stalking me.
What about the others?
Companions she brought because she was scared to come alone?
Or partners sniffing out money?
“You could’ve earned plenty of money.”
“Why?”
“Because your confident eyes were worth more than the info’s value. I never bought info. I bought your hope, my heart’s comfort.”
A foolish woman.
She sold such valuable info for cheap and couldn’t even use it.
Yet, in a way, a pure woman.
Pure enough to seek dreams and comfort among fleeting types who drown their sorrows in cheap drinks and squander money on fun.
She was lonely.
To soothe that loneliness, she needed hope, not liquor.
Her hope was the stories I brought weekly and the steadfast belief in my eyes that we could leave the alley life behind.
“Get away from my kid.”
Unlike the familiar woman, another mocked Mother’s words.
“We’re selling the kids to the organization. The older one’s a pretty boy, he’ll fetch a lot. The younger one too…”
Blood splattered from the bald woman’s neck as she grinned with missing yellow teeth.
Mother’s rusty iron sword struck in an instant, also hitting the eyebrow-shaved potbelly woman with the club.
She stumbled back in shock at the speed.
The club, swung wildly, caught the rusty sword.
Clang!
The rusty sword couldn’t withstand Mother’s strength to retrieve it and snapped in half.
Dozens of Level 2 monsters slain by Mother’s brute force would’ve applauded from the afterlife at the perfect timing of the mishap.
“You b*tch, you’re done…”
“Take it!”
“Mommy, surprise!”
A centipede Anna threw stuck to the club.
The startled potbelly woman flailed the club wildly.
Holding Anna’s hand, I retreated out of the club’s range, and Mother fearlessly charged in.
“Wow.”
I’d seen adventurers in action in the game plenty of times.
But even I couldn’t help but marvel at the sight.
Mother kicked off a tree, leaped, and landed behind the club-wielding woman.
Thud!
The woman tripped with a grunt as Mother kicked her ankle.
Mother’s fist mercilessly struck the potbelly woman’s head.
“Stop!”
Mother, swinging her fist over the unconscious—or perhaps dead—woman bleeding profusely, turned to us.
The long-haired woman held spiked brass knuckles over my head.
“Let the kid go.”
“You’re gonna kill me.”
“I’ll let you go.”
“I don’t trust you.”
I felt heat above my head.
Raising my head slightly, I saw the woman’s burn-scarred face through her long hair.
Beyond her shadowed face, tears glistened like stars, falling toward me like shooting stars.
“How can I trust anyone? Everyone who trusts gets betrayed and ends up in the alleys. I ended up this ugly mess. How can I trust what people say?”
“I trust you.”
I grabbed the woman’s hand above my head.
A hand too large compared to my small frame.
Burned, weathered, or worn by poverty.
I held her wrinkled, rough fingers with all five of mine.
Her face, twisted with anger and turmoil, looked down at me.
A sad beast.
A wounded beast.
Not a fleeting creature.
Having known her beyond a day or two, I could tell.
I could trust.
Her, I was sure, could be brainwashed.
Looking into her eyes, I used brainwashing on someone other than Mother for the first time.
I am a mind controller.
A deceiver who twists and manipulates people’s hearts.
With this wicked power, I…
[Brainwash Activated]
[Target – Lady]
[Command – You are a kind lady.]
I affirmed the woman’s goodness.
“…”
The malice in her eyes faded.
Brainwashing works better on those who don’t resist.
She didn’t resist at all.
As if she’d always wished to be that way.
As if recalling our weekly alley meetings, she reached for my hand.
I gave info, and she stroked my hand and head, praising me.
Like a parent praising a proud child.
Even when a neighborhood thug beat a kid, making them cry.
Even when a drunkard broke a bottle, fighting.
As if all that happened in some distant world unrelated to us, we praised and were praised in our two-person alley.
That was our weekly ritual.
Our promise, our scenery.
Thud!
The woman’s grip on my hand loosened.
Even though she could’ve held tighter, she pulled back, fearing her greed might hurt me.
The warmth of her skin, the coldness of the knuckles.
Both rough sensations slipped from my hand.
A dagger, held by the bald woman, was lodged in the back of the fallen woman’s head.
Mother had picked up the dagger and thrown it at the woman reaching for me.
She hadn’t seen the eyes beneath the long hair.
Only the spiked knuckles on her fist.
“Let’s go.”
Mother’s gaze, looking down at her knuckle-clad hands, held only contempt and hatred.
Staring at the end of that gaze, I reluctantly followed Mother’s urging hand.
The remains of the fallen star were too big for young me, and as I fumbled to step over, I found a watch in my hand.
I opened the lid.
An old photo.
A smiling child I didn’t know.
I closed the watch.
“This.”
“A watch?”
“For a sword.”
Mother picked up the wicked mind controller’s spoils.
The thirteen silver coins’ worth of loot wasn’t enough for an iron sword.