Necessary sacrifice.

Having told herself as much, she tossed aside the safety of the villagers.

Raised as an assassin, the loss of human life almost never affected her emotionally. She wouldn’t even bat an eye, especially if they were strangers. She only disliked the leader’s expression when there were casualties. But since this plan had the leader’s approval, she did not feel even a shred of desire to go save them.

And more importantly, they had to use teleportation magic as soon as the attack was over so they could move to another village and repeat the job. Her head was filled with nothing but thoughts about the plan.

This was not the only village where the ingredient for the drug was being cultivated. According to their investigations, there were twelve large scale plantations in the Kingdom. Most likely, there were still more that they have yet to find. Otherwise, there was no way to explain the amount of the drug that has spread throughout the Kingdom’s lands.

Weeds have to be pulled as soon as they sprout… Even if a lot of it is fruitless, it’s the only way.

If they found something like written orders in this village then that would be a stroke of luck. Regrettably, it was never that easy. They could only hope that the one in charge of this village would know something.

The leader will be happy if we can get even a small piece of information on the organization.

The powerful syndicate that cultivated the drug was named “Eight Fingers,” named after the eight fingers of the God of Theft, subordinate of the God of Earth. They were the group that controlled the underworld of the Kingdom.

The criminal organization was divided into eight categories: slave trafficking, assassinations, smuggling, larceny, drug trade, security, banking, and gambling. Their reach extended to every criminal group in the Kingdom and the sheer size of the organization meant that they were shrouded in mystery.

On the other hand, what was plain to see was how much influence they wielded in the Kingdom. The village sprawled out before her was proof of that.

They cultivate illegal plants in plain sight. That alone was enough to implicate the noble of the land as an accomplice. But charging him would not lead to a conviction.

It would be a different story if the royal family or someone from the judicial authority were to investigate the matter. But even so, it would be difficult to reach a guilty verdict when it involved the feudal aristocracy. The nobles of this land will claim that they did not know that the plant could be used as an ingredient to drugs. They may even accuse the villagers of acting on their own volition in order to shift the blame.

Public denouncement was ineffective and trying to forcibly curb the circulation of the drug was almost impossible with the organization bribing the nobles with influence over the distribution channels.

That was why the only option left was violence, burning the fields as a last resort.

In all honesty, she believed that even if she burned the drugs here, it wouldn’t even make a dent in their operations. With their fingers even in politics, that was how powerful the organization was.

“A bid for time… If we don’t make a decisive attack someday, then even this will be useless.”

Part 2

It was raining, accompanied by the noisy ringing in the ears.

The Kingdom did not build its roads with particular attention to drainage, especially when it came to back alleyways. The result was that an entire roadway could transform into a huge lake.

The rain falling on the surface of the lake splashed about, the wind carrying the scent of water and spraying it into the air. It was a part of the reason why the whole Kingdom exuded an atmosphere of being submerged underwater.

Within the world dyed in gray by the sprays of water was a single boy.

He was living in a deserted house. No, even calling it such was doing it a service. Its pillar was wood that was only as thick as a man’s arm. Rags were used in place of a roof and the only walls to speak of were simply the rags draping over the sides.

In the residence that was no different from sleeping in the open was a six-year-old boy. Like garbage that has been carelessly tossed aside, he was curled into a ball and lying on top of a thin cloth.

The wood acting as a pillar, the rags serving as both the roof and walls, they seemed like the sort a child his age would build as a secret base.

This house that was no different from being outside, it’s only merit was the shelter it provided from the rain. The sharp drop in temperature from the unending rain wrapped the boy in a chill that caused his body to shiver uncontrollably. The warmth of his breath that confirmed his existence was immediately robbed of its temperature and vanished into the air.

Before he had fled into the house, the rain had soaked the boy and he was now losing his body heat, fast.

There was no way to stop his body from shivering.

The chill seeping into his body soothed the bruises he got from a beating. Perhaps this was his one, small happiness in this worst case scenario.

The boy lay on his side and stared at the empty alleyway, at the world.

The only sounds he could hear were the rain and that of his own breathing. It was a stillness that made it seem like he was the only one in the world.

Although he was young, the boy knew that he was probably going to die.

He was not of an age to fully understand the meaning of death and thus did not feel too afraid. He also didn’t feel as if there was anything worth living for. The only reason he clung to life up until now was because he didn’t like pain, almost like an escape.

Although it was cold, if he could die painlessly like this, then death wasn’t so bad.

As his drenched body grew numb, his consciousness began to fade.

He should have found a place that would shield him from the billowing wind. But he was grabbed by a group of hoodlums and his current place was the best he could manage with his battered body.

He had a small happiness. Then was everything else misfortune?

His mouth hadn’t touched food in two days, but something like that was normal so it wasn’t misfortune. His parents were gone so he was alone with no one to take care of him. But it had been like that for a long time so it wasn’t misfortune. The unpleasant odor around him also wasn’t misfortune. After all, it was from the rags so it couldn’t be helped. The life that revolved around filling his stomach with rotten food and foul water also wasn’t misfortune since it was all he knew.