HTACS 17

Chapter 17

D/Z SAGA supports multi-route, multi-ending—but you don’t always get to see the story’s conclusion.

If Kelter dies from a defeat in the game, you get a bad ending.

The phrase “No one ever saw them again” is a direct ticket to a bad ending.

But aside from getting killed by a field boss while exploring a dungeon, there’s another way. That’s the assassination ending. The murder ending.

Two factors are involved in this ending: affection level and karma level.

For example—take Izolde of the Jeweled Sword as a companion. If you push her patience to the absolute limit, her affection drops like a crashing coin. Then you wait for a rebound and hope for a high point? Not a chance. You pay the price—the murder ending.

As a result of lowered affection, you either end up in a 1v1 deathmatch with Izolde, or she ambushes you—and she’s insanely strong. She’s completely off her rocker.

Second—karma level. This one’s important.

If you do crazy things as Kelter—abandoning companions in dungeons, failing missions, killing ordinary villagers—eventually, *she* comes for you.

The ace of the assassination family. The strongest talent in history. The Dagger of the Abyss. Rudika Hassan Shadow.

Greyish-white hair brushing her shoulders. Blue eyes. A small build. A slender frame.

At first glance, she might look like a cute, lovable character—but I know her. No—I know just how terrifying she is.

The silent killer who always comes if your karma drops below a certain threshold and you become a villain. All her skills are assassination-exclusive, and before Act 6, you can’t stop her—you shouldn’t even think about stopping her.

From memory, her Strength is 13—comparatively low compared to top-tier strength characters. Her Endurance and Magic are decent too. But what makes Rudika truly terrifying is her insane Willpower and Dexterity. Since Dexterity positively affects all actions, it also serves as agility—her base Dexterity is around 20 or 21. Willpower is also about 20.

Roughly 20 means she far surpasses human limits—and from what I know, Act 1 Aila’s Magic is 19, and Eve’s Magic is about 22.

And this girl comes to kill you starting from Act 1 if you drop your karma. How do you survive that? At that point, isn’t it just common courtesy to die?

If you do bad things, she comes at night, *swish*, cuts your throat, and disappears—everyone respected her and called her “Teacher Hassan.” And now, I have Teacher Hassan right in front of me.

Third-rate villain Wolfram has just encountered the assassin who embodies justice.

“Rudika asks again, Wolfram. Can you make something spicy?”

No—I don’t know how to make that sort of thing.

I’m Endurance 2. I’m a trash-tier loser who has a 50% chance of winning against a bean beetle in the forest—so please pretend you don’t know me.

I prayed inwardly for this calamity to pass—but my skill betrayed me. My head could lie, but my mouth was honest. The Imperial Bloodline skill, which forces me to speak only in imposing, awe-inspiring lines, activated without hesitation.

“Possible. It will lack nothing compared to any spicy taste in this world.”

“Really?! You’re not lying?”

“…Hmph. Who do you think I am? I am Wolfram—Wolfram von Lohengrin. I stake the Imperial name—I do not lie.”

Ah.

I’m screwed.

“I see. Wolfram. Rudika likes that.”

“…What do you mean?”

“Rudika. Will come find you later.”

And then—Rudika vanished.

Wow—an assassination notice right to my face! How many people get to enjoy this kind of surprise in their lifetime?

Foreseeing my death, I nodded.

Everyone—thank you for everything up until now. Wolfram’s adventure ends here. I wish you all happiness.

But before I die—if I have one wish—

“Aila—is this really the spiciest thing in the cafeteria?”

“Yes, I told you! How can anyone eat something like this? Seriously…!”

I want to eat something spicy.

“I think you need to learn what real spiciness is.”

“Fine, Wolfram. It seems we need a slightly more rebellious conversation. I’ll show you rebellious spiciness. Follow me outside.”

Sorry.

I’m going to die tonight anyway, so please spare me.

—

Aila left, and I returned to the convenience store.

I’d been joking about getting killed by Rudika, but I was fairly confident—no, almost certain—that I wouldn’t be killed immediately.

She kills first and thinks later when an assassination order comes down. When I did evil playthroughs as Kelter, I was once murdered in the middle of an exam during midterms.

She doesn’t care about being seen—she just completes her given mission. That’s the Dagger of the Abyss—her epithet.

If she’d wanted to kill Wolfram, she would’ve just *swish*—sliced my neck without a word. She’s that kind of girl.

The problem is that I caught the attention of that assassin, period. I let out a deep sigh, leaned back in my chair, and stared at the ceiling. Then I heard movement outside the door.

Here it comes—I thought, looking toward the door—but the person there was someone I hadn’t expected.

“…Nephti?”

“Yes. Hello, Wolfram-nim.”

What brings her here? I don’t remember requesting her services.

But she came anyway—which means—

“Did you have something to say?”

“Ugh. You see right through me. As expected of someone I once pledged my loyalty to.”

“Even though you took more than double the hourly wage after the fees were deducted.”

“……”

“If not that—then the doughnuts? Or the shares? ‘Thank you for the meal, I’ll be going’—wasn’t that how you left?”

“W-well, that…”

Try to refute that, Sword of Conviction. What happened to you?

A laugh escaped me.

“So—what brings you today?”

“I have something to ask of you, if I may.”

“What is it.”

“Would you please hire me to work here as a part-timer? Please!”

Saying that, Nephti bowed her head deeply. I looked at her crown and pondered.

The Sword of the Dirt-Poor—no, the Sword of Conviction, Nephti’s defining trait, no matter what anyone says, is her diligence. Once you’ve done her a favor, she will never betray you.

But—

“Is it for the money?”

“Huh? …Yes. That’s right.”

“What happened to the money I gave you before? It was close to a million rin.”

“I sent most of it home and have nothing left. At this rate, I’ll have to eat grass and resin salad again.”

“Dandelions are pretty good these days. There’s mugwort too.”

“Ah, those are tasty. You’re quite knowledgeable about edible plants.”

“Hmph.”

“Right—a while ago, a potato sprouted, so I made a wild vegetable salad with the sprouts. The pungent flavor was actually pretty good.”

“What the hell are you eating?”

And how can you say that’s “pretty good”?

Looking at Nephti, who stared back at me with an expression that said “It’s edible,” made my head throb.

“I’m not hiring part-timers.”

“Is that so? Am I not good enough? I’ll work hard!”

“No—that’s not it.”

“…? Then why?”

“Because I don’t have customers.”

“…………”

Nephti said nothing. If she’d at least gone “Ah” in understanding, I wouldn’t mind—but instead, she looked at me with something like pity. Don’t look at me. Don’t look at me with those eyes.

But it’s true. Customers just don’t come. The new student welcome festival was a huge success with incredible sales—but in reality, no one comes to the store. Astonishingly so. I don’t really know why.

“So I’m analyzing the situation.”

“Isn’t it just because the location is terrible?”

“……”

Don’t. Don’t say such bad things.

“No—still, isn’t this the only place in the Academy that sells delicious food?”

If it’s this good, shouldn’t people be crawling from a hundred li away saying, “This convenience store came to teach us what delicious is! Uooooh, Wolfram! Thank you! We believed in you!”?

“That’s true—but Zeppelin’s schedule might be the problem.”

“What do you mean?”

“For students who attend classes properly, from first-year enrollment onward—lesson progress, assignments, self-training… they’re too busy to get away.”

“Hmm.”

That’s a valid point.

So what then? Should I set up a stall in front of the first-year building at dawn too? Not a bad idea—but there’s a lot to prepare.

“I see. Then I’ll gradually gather customers again.”

“Good idea. …Though I’m still disappointed about the part-time job. I really wanted to work here.”

“Part-time job. A part-time job…”

Come to think of it—I have the perfect side job for her.

“Nephti—want to work for me for just one day?”

“Huh?”

“I’ll pay you well.”

“What kind of work?”

It’s nothing big.

A little later—a really, *really* scary person is going to show up—and if she does anything weird, I need you to stop her.

—

When dusk fell and the sun clocked out on time, hiding into the darkness—

“Wolfram. Rudika is here.”

“Hmm.”

No one could stop the assassin’s footsteps as they melted into the shadows. If a person walks, there are footsteps—if they breathe, there’s a breath. If not that, at least the air should shift—but the Dagger of the Abyss simply appeared as if she’d been there all along.

She glanced at me, and at Nephti beside me.

“Knight Department—2nd year, Nepterian?”

“…Rudika Hassan Shadow, 3rd-year senior?”

“Mm. What are you doing there?”

“…Working a one-day part-time job. I think I’ll need to negotiate a higher rate.”

Sorry—I’ll pay you extra later. You’ll forgive me, right?

Anyway—Nephti was tense, and Rudika calmly looked her over. The gap in ability was clear. No matter how much the Sword of Conviction, she can’t stop the Dagger of the Abyss, who’s already approaching completion.

Rudika dismissed Nephti and turned her gleaming eyes on me.

“Rudika wants it now.”

“What?”

“Wolfram. Rudika doesn’t like jokes. Make something spicy.”

“Hmm.”

“Rudika will pay. Rudika has lots of money!”

Her way of speaking is always so unique—must be the “Hassan” in her name.

“Unfortunately—spicy things don’t exist here. I don’t have the ingredients.”

“Ingredients?”

“A few herbs from the Sleeping Mountain Range, and three types of Tier 8 beans… with those, I could at least imitate it.”

First—I need to *think*.

To avoid her suddenly using [Hassan Style: Kill Step: Rear Catch] and [Hassan Style: Throat Slash: Fatal Strike], I need to talk according to the “descriptions” in my memory.

What I mentioned are ingredient items in Zeppelin that have [Paralysis Effect] and [Freeze Removal]—items with flavor text like “Extremely spicy, handle with caution—makes your tongue tingle” or “Hot enough to melt all ice—seems beyond this world’s spice level.”

But the place where those are primarily found is the stage of Act 2—the Sleeping Mountain Range, where you need to farm materials beforehand to pass through the Correction Plains in Act 3.

If the eastern forest is a picnic for Act 1, the Sleeping Mountain Range—Act 2’s stage—is considerably dangerous.

“…The Sleeping Mountain Range.”

“Yes. It’s a fairly high-difficulty area.”

Especially given Aila’s explanation—in a world where everyone has given up on adventure, the Sleeping Mountain Range alone would require risking your life. Even for an assassin, the Sleeping Mountain Range is a bit much.

So go back. Okay?

“Then. Rudika will go. Rudika challenges the Sleeping Mountain Range.”

“…What?”

For real?

“Why are you so obsessed with spicy food?”

“Because it’s delicious.”

“Hah—it’s just that—”

“It’s not ‘just that.'”

Rudika stared at me with wide eyes—as if holding all the grudges of the world, she glared straight at me.

“Wolfram. This world is not spicy. Rudika wants spiciness.”

“………Hah!”

I said that far—and closed my eyes.

If I said any more, even my own convictions would seem laughable.

Spicy is good. I want to eat spicy food.

A magical phrase that every Korean holds in their heart—*deliciously spicy*. For example, a cup of fish cake broth with two cheongyang peppers sliced in on a winter day. That much spiciness alone would probably soothe this resentment.

But seeing Aila, who claims to handle spicy food well, only makes me sigh. This world is incredibly weak to spiciness. These fragile bastards.

Yet in the midst of that, this girl looked me straight in the eye and said—she wants to eat something spicy. I can’t treat that feeling like a fool.

“I understand your sentiment. You’re one of my kind.”

“Yes. This world… isn’t spicy. Rudika hates that.”

We firmly shook hands.

Even if we don’t share a language—even if we’re different races—the heart that loves spiciness is one.

“I’ll make it for you—maybe tomorrow. If so, write down what you need to bring—”

“Good. Departure is tomorrow. Then, Wolfram. Rudika will come back tomorrow!”

“?!”

Can’t you let people finish their sentences?

Hey—hey there.

Wait—am I going too?