The only things left on the errand list were carrots and onions. And flower seeds.
Entering the market, I bought carrots and onions and asked the merchants about the merchant association. At first they seemed evasive, but when I mentioned what the old man in the alley had suffered, they sighed deeply and clicked their tongues.
"They have no compassion. They started as vigilantes during the Magic War, but changed after the war. After tasting money, the membership fee became a thing. They started bullying people who didn't bother anyone. It's hard to make ends meet, isn't it?"
"There are six heads, and I think about twenty people under them go around collecting money. Everything is in their hands around here. If you refuse to join, it's a complete mess. No use reporting it to the police; they've colluded with each other. Everyone is dirty as long as their pockets are full."
As expected, the gangsters called the Merchant Association seemed to move through the neighborhood as if it were their own land. That would mean their information about the city is reliable. It would be useful for finding the relics. After finishing shopping, I hummed back to the house.
There was no longer a need to reflect. I'd have to act starting today. That night, near midnight. I put on my daily clothes and left the mansion in secret.
This stealthy and secret escape was something a maid shouldn't do, but that was none of my business. Sometimes there were tasks that couldn't be achieved without deceiving people. It was even more necessary if you had to hide your true status as a maid. I entered the pub the potato seller pointed out to me. When I opened the door and entered, the scarlet lamp illuminating the interior trembled slightly.
The first thing I saw was a photo frame hanging in front of me. The faded black-and-white photographs contained the faces of my dear friends, the heroes of the Magic War, published through the newspaper. The number of people inside the pub was: one middle-aged woman, four middle-aged men, and a bartender. According to what I heard, there were six heads.
It's a rule for these guys to meet at their base and have a countermeasure meeting the night a problem arises in the district. I looked around their waist, but I couldn't find a weapon. That meant I only had to be careful with the bartender. Once inside, I settled at the bar. Since no one spoke in the meantime, I threw the card first. "Receive your guest."
The bartender snorted. "Hey girl. I don't think you're from this town. We're not doing business right now, so get out."
"Why don't you do it?"
"What?"
"Why don't you do it?"
A burly man who approached me in the middle of the harsh atmosphere sat next to me. Somehow, he felt familiar. "Wait, wait. Wait a minute. I'll take care of it. Where are you from, miss?" The man gave me a smile. "What's your name?"
He definitely felt familiar. "Why don't you answer me? You're that girl, aren't you? The crazy maid who smashed half of my brother's face?"
It was the trash's older brother. Should I call him senior trash? In an instant, the bartender pulled a shotgun from under the table and pointed it at my forehead, warning me. "Was it this girl? If you don't want to die, follow me quietly. I'll finish this and send you to the slave ship."
This action betrayed even the lowest expectations I had of them. In the Empire, a pub was a home for the people. But this place wasn't like that. At the bartender's warning, I obediently rose from my chair. The gun barrel followed my head as I crossed the bar. When I reached the main entrance of the bar, near the bartender, I instantly lowered my body and kicked him in the back of his knees, breaking his wrist in half in the process.
When the bartender's body flew toward the cup display case, it shattered and glass pieces rained down on him like snowflakes. Then, I slapped the trash's brother in the face as he ran toward me bravely, smashing him against the wall. Two of them gathered around the round table, and then I made their teeth come a bit closer. I gave the chairs to the other two. "Ugh..."
It was quiet now. This was the pub I knew. A space for people, not for trash.
"Do you have weapons hidden?" The middle-aged woman being punished by forcing her to raise her hands looked at me as her shoulders trembled. "Well, do you have any—"
"It's in the warehouse! I'll give it to you!"
"I don't need it." I went back to the bartender. The brave bartender, who was pointing a gun at my head, rolled on the floor as if he'd broken a leg. I stretched my body and sat on top of him like a death statue. "So when will you answer my question?"
"A question...?"
"Why are you not doing business? Is the sign that says 'pub' outside just a decoration?"
"I'll do business."
"Why did you create a merchant association that doesn't even do business?"
"Hng, I'll do business."
"Just answer the question. Why did you create a merchant association?"
"To protect the interests of the town's merchants..."
"Who agreed?"
"All the merchants..."
"Are you sure they agreed? You didn't threaten them, did you? Shall we go ask them right now? I'll drag you like a dog and face each and every one of them. Every time a person appears saying they were forced to join, everyone's life expectancy will be reduced by twenty years. Shall we do that?"
It was strange. I didn't feel uncomfortable talking to these guys for so long. My voice in my ear wasn't terrible. The corners of my mouth went up and down more easily because I felt as if I had become Andert again. Thanks to this, my tongue moved like a fish in water.
"Forgive me." One of the men sitting at the table with both hands up asked me with a muffled voice, probably because of his newly broken molars. "But who the hell are you?"
I looked through the frightened faces of the six and then pointed to the wall. "Over there." A frame from which proudly hung black-and-white photos that looked cut out from an article. In the photo, a total of seven heroes—including Raphael and me during my time as Andert, as well as Natasha, the only princess of the Empire—had our glasses raised to the sky, smiling.
It wasn't a picture with a great backstory. The photo was taken by a pub owner to lift the morale of the allied forces when the frontline was pushed north due to a sudden attack by the Great Wizard Mephisto. I wonder how their morale would have been lifted with only photos, but they seemed to have published it through the newspaper after victory.
"I am him."
"What do you mean..."
"I worked hard and saved the world. But I didn't save the world so people like you could ruin it." The bartender's eyes looking at me quickly turned into eyes that looked like those of a crazy maid. I picked up a chair from the table, sat down, and wet my throat with water.
"You said you were curious who I am? Then wait, let me tell you my story. Will you listen to it? Even if the words sound a bit awkward, just laugh. I'm not good at speaking."
"What? Oh yes."
"I have an important goal that I must achieve in three years."
"Yes."
"But there's something. To achieve this goal, the areas surrounding all the houses here must be clean. Especially guys like you. You know what I'm talking about, right? Thieves."
"W-We're not thieves..."
"Is that street yours?" I looked at the thieves. Everyone seemed busy scurrying from my eyes. "Is that alley yours? Answer me."
"No, miss."
"It's not yours, but if they don't pay you, you rob them. My dinner tonight was bad because of you. The potatoes were in poor condition. The reason the potatoes were bad is because the merchant selling them feared paying seat taxes at the market and was hiding in the alleys to do business. The alley is not noticed, so things won't sell for a long time. That will make it rot more easily, right?"
"...Yes."
"So, without the seat tax, the condition of the potatoes will improve. Fresh ingredients amplify the flavor and quality of the food, but if you eat poor-quality food, you can get sick. Do you know what happens when the sick person has bad luck? They die shortly after."
"Yes."
I turned my head toward the thief bartender. "In short, if you receive taxes for those seats, I'll die."
"Yes... eh?"
"So I'm going to kill you first before I die. In other words, it's called self-defense."
I smiled at them. "End of story. Now then, who's going to die first?" Naturally, the thieves' complexion paled. Someone took a deep breath. Of course, I didn't mean to kill them. Violence and murder were different crimes on completely different levels. Although both were serious crimes.
Then, the bartender who was lying down rose slowly. His frightened eyes slowly began to exhibit a powerful aura. "We have Berithlet behind us."
Were there still people who talked like that? The bartender showed his canine fangs and pointed at me. "Berithlet pays double when it gets hit. If you cut all our heads off, you'll become Berithlet's enemy and you'll never survive."