Chapter 68: Talking pig?

"Anyway, let’s go in. Let’s kill them quickly and go back. I don’t like this damp place."

Alicia stiffened. "So killing is confirmed..."

"If you want to kill someone, you should be prepared to die," I said flatly. "That’s the rule of the trade."

Of course, that’s just a cool-sounding excuse. I’m not planning to die here. I’m planning to make

them

die here.

I took the lead down the stairs.

It was a pitch-black staircase without a single light, twisting downward into the earth. The air grew colder and staler with every step.

And the stairs were annoyingly long.

Step. Step. Step.

Five minutes passed. Then ten.

"Seriously?" I muttered, wiping dust off the railing. "How badly did they want to hide that they built the structure this deep? Do they commute to hell?"

I desperately missed escalators. Elevators. Even a slide would be nice.

Finally, the steps leveled out.

We stood before a heavy iron door. A small, grime-encrusted lantern hung beside it, emitting a faint, dying orange light. The door looked solid—reinforced steel, designed to withstand a battering ram.

There was no handle. Just a small, sliding viewing port at eye level.

I straightened my uniform, cleared my throat, and stepped up.

Knock knock.

The sound echoed hollowly in the tunnel.

A moment of silence.

Then—

shhk.

The square hole slid open. A pair of suspicious, bloodshot eyes glared out from the darkness within. The smell of cheap tobacco wafted out.

The guard’s voice was rough, like gravel grinding on glass.

"Password."

I leaned in close, bringing my face right up to the slot.

I smiled. A bright, dazzling, sickeningly sweet smile.

"I love you~♡"

The silence that followed was heavy.

The guard blinked. The eyes behind the slot widened in sheer confusion.

"...Hah?"

"I said, I love you," I repeated, forming a heart shape with my hands. "Open up, honey. Daddy’s home."

"You crazy son of a—"

Bang.

I didn’t let him finish.

I pulled the revolver from my coat—already cocked—jammed the barrel through the viewing slot, and pulled the trigger.

The gunshot roared in the confined space.

A wet thud followed from the other side of the door.

"Wrong answer," I said cheerfully, holstering the smoking gun.

I looked back at Alicia.

"See? They always come to the door."

Alicia stared at the iron door, then at me. She let out a long, weary sigh.

"...Boss. You are truly the worst."

"I’ll take that as a compliment. Now, stand back."

I aimed at the lock mechanism.

"Let’s say hello to our host."

****

I kicked the ruined lock mechanism, and the heavy iron door swung open with a groan.

Inside, the scenery changed instantly.

Gone were the damp, moldy stone walls of the sewer-like tunnel. Instead, a room so luxurious it hurt my eyes sprawled out before us. Thick crimson carpets, velvet drapes covering stone walls, golden chandeliers, and antique furniture that probably cost more than a commoner’s life.

And sitting on a high-backed leather chair at the far end was a massive, rotund figure sipping wine.

"Ha," the figure scoffed, not even looking up. "Stupid commoners walking to their deaths—"

I froze. My eyes widened.

"Whoa, crazy! Alicia, look! The pig is talking!"

Is this fantasy?!

My heart started racing. I grabbed Alicia’s shoulder and shook her.

"I thought it might be an Orc with high intelligence, or maybe a Boar-kin... but looking at that pink skin tone and the number of chins, it’s definitely a pig. A talking pig!"

The figure in the chair slammed his wine glass down, shattering it.

"You bastard...! Who are you calling a—"

"But who owns this place?" I interrupted, looking around in genuine confusion. "Dressing up a pig in a silk suit and keeping it in a chair? Don’t they have anything better to do? Pigs should be kept in pens. Whoever the owner is, they must be really stupid."

"Boss..." Alicia whispered, sounding exhausted already. "That person is our target. Heney Smith..."

I blinked. I looked at the fat man. Then back at Alicia.

"What!? That thing is a person!?"

How can that be a person!?

Is this the wonder of a fantasy world? Even pigs can evolve into humans?

"Well..." I rubbed my chin thoughtfully. "Dragons can transform into humans with polymorphing magic, so I guess there’s no reason a pig couldn’t achieve enlightenment and assume human form."

Heney’s face turned a shade of purple usually reserved for poisoned eggplants.

"Eek...! YOU RATS! HANS!!"

"As you wish, master."

A section of the luxurious wall paneled in mahogany slid open silently.

From the shadows emerged a man in a crisp butler’s uniform. He held a long, thin rapier in one hand, his expression as cold as ice.

"Kill them."

"Understood."

The butler, Hans, rushed at us the moment the command left the pig’s mouth. He was fast—faster than the thugs from before.

Clang!

Alicia stepped forward, drawing the short sword I had bought her for close-quarters training. Steel met steel, creating a sharp, shattering sound that echoed through the room.

"Kekeke," Hans chuckled, pressing his blade forward. "You handle a sword well for a former slave, but you still can’t defeat Hans!"

Hans wasn’t just a servant. He was Heney’s hidden dagger, a man who cleaned up the ’mess’ whenever business negotiations failed. His movements were refined, economical, and deadly.

Alicia gritted her teeth. She was a mage first. Swordplay was something she had only recently picked up under my forced training.

Slash!

Hans’s blade grazed her shoulder.

"Ugh!"

Alicia retreated a step, channeling mana into her free hand.

"Fireball!"

A burst of flame erupted, but Hans sidestepped it effortlessly, his movements fluid like water.

"Too slow!"

He lunged again.

Wounds began to appear on Alicia’s arms and legs. Even to Heney Smith, a layman in combat, it was clear the tide was turning.

"Hahaha!" Heney laughed, clapping his chubby hands. "Foolish girl! Coming here to die on your own! Hans, cut off her legs first!"

Alicia was being pushed back. Her breathing grew ragged.

"Alicia!" I shouted. "It’s time to evolve! You can win if you evolve!"

"...?"

Heney blinked.

The voice... didn’t come from the door.

It came from right beside him.

Heney turned his head slowly in confusion.

Sitting on the expensive mahogany table right next to him was Lucien.

He was sitting cross-legged, holding a bag of popcorn he had pulled from god-knows-where, chewing loudly.

Crunch. Crunch.

"W-When did you...!" Heney shrieked, falling back in his chair.

"Heney, sir!!" Hans shouted, trying to turn back, but Alicia swung her sword, forcing him to block.

"Oh, don’t mind me," I said, tossing a kernel into my mouth. "Keep going. If you look away, she’ll die."

I placed a finger gently on the crown of Heney’s head.

"Right?"

Heney turned pale blue. He couldn’t fight. He couldn’t run. All he could do was tremble under my finger and pray Hans would win quickly.

However, the dynamic had shifted.

Hans was distracted. His master was being held hostage by a lunatic eating snacks. His movements lost their fluidity, his eyes darting between Alicia and me.

Alicia seized the chance.

"Flame wreath!"

She imbued her blade with fire magic—not a spell, but an enchantment. The steel glowed red hot.

Clang!

When their swords clashed again, sparks flew, and the heat forced Hans to recoil.

Seeing his advantage slipping, Heney decided to take a gamble.

"Hey! You!" Heney shouted at me, sweat pouring down his face. "If you don’t help now, your slave might die! Hans is a professional! Are you okay with that?"

It was a desperate plan. Try to get Lucien to join the fight, thereby freeing Heney from being a hostage, or at least distract him.

But Lucien was crazier than Heney thought.

Munch. Crunch.

"If she dies, she dies," I said, swallowing a mouthful of corn. "What do you want me to do about it?"

Heney’s jaw dropped. "W-What?"

"If she worries about dying from a butler in a basement, she won’t survive in this harsh world," I explained casually.

In just a few months, the S-class monster

Behemoth

—a calamity of the sky—is scheduled to invade the airspace above the Academy.

Compared to that? This butler was a warm-up exercise. If she cowers here, she’s dead meat then.

"W-What are you saying! That’s your slave! Your property!"

"Oh, shut up!" I snapped, annoyed by the noise interrupting my viewing experience. "Why does this pig talk so much!?"

Thwack!

My fist struck the top of Heney’s head.

"Oink!?"

A genuine pig noise escaped his lips.

"Now that’s more like the pig I know."

"Master Heney!!"

Hearing his master squeal like livestock, Hans panicked. He turned his head completely, abandoning his defense for a split second to check on Heney.

That was the price of loyalty.

Alicia didn’t waste it.

She stepped in, wind wrapping around her boots to boost her speed. Her fire-wreathed sword slashed horizontally.

Slash.

A clean line appeared on Hans’s neck.

Blood sprayed.

The butler gurgled, dropped his rapier, and collapsed to the floor.

"Hans! Nooooo!!"

Alicia stood panting, staring at the corpse.

Then she looked at me.

"Did you... want me to lose...?" she asked, breathless and slightly hurt.

I shook the popcorn bag. It was mostly empty.

"But I barely got to eat any popcorn," I complained, dusting salt off my gloves. "It’s no fun if it ends so quickly."

Heney stared at the body of his strongest protector.

Hans was dead.

There was nothing Heney could do anymore.

I hopped off the table and cracked my knuckles, walking toward the fat merchant.

"Well then," I smiled brightly. "Let’s quickly deal with this pig."

"W-Wait! Wait!"

Heney scrambled backward, his chair scraping loudly against the floor.

"I’ll give you money! Gold! Jewels! If you want, I have slaves prettier than that girl! Elves! Beastkin! Just say the word!"

All Heney could do was offer everything he had to survive.

If he could just survive, he could recover everything. Revenge, butlers, money—he just needed to live through the next five minutes.

I paused.

"Oh..."

I stopped walking and stroked my chin, looking thoughtful.

Heney’s eyes lit up with hope.

Look at that. True to his commoner nature, he’s considering it at the mention of money. I knew it. Everyone has a price.

"Yes! Yes!" Heney shouted, eager to seal the deal. "If you spare me, I’ll give you anything you want! My entire vault! Money or sla—"

"ORA!"

—THWACK!

My fist smashed directly into the center of Heney’s face.

Cartilage crunched.

Heney flew backward, chair and all, crashing into the wall with a thunderous boom.

"You talk too much," I said, shaking my hand. "I was going to rob you anyway."