Chapter 25 : Fertilization

It became deep night.

After putting Ruby to sleep, I closed my eyes, but my mind, tangled, wouldn’t rest.
The fairy tale’s contents lingered, haunting me.

Witch of Emberfire.

A tragic story of a girl who just wanted friends.
Losing all her friends, including the bluebird, she became a witch for revenge.

I’d braced myself, but not for this story.
I’d expected a cliché evil witch tale.

Instead, the fairy tale felt eerier, more ominous.

The biggest problem?
I couldn’t confirm the ending.
The last page, torn, left no clue about its contents.

I asked Spade, who gave me the book, and everyone in the bar—no one knew the ending.
Searching online networks yielded similar results.

Witch of Emberfire was a mysterious fairy tale, its author unknown.

All I could do was speculate based on what I’d read.

Given the story’s flow and tone, a happy ending seemed overly optimistic.

Regardless of revenge’s success, the girl likely wouldn’t find happiness.
Her friends were gone, the forest burned to ashes.

The missing page, whatever it held, probably pointed to a bad ending.

Of course, that’s not certain.
As a fairy tale, it might have a classic happy ending.

That would clash with the tone or break coherence slightly.

If asked which ending I’d prefer, I’d choose the latter.

Why?
Because I saw Ruby in the girl.

“…”

Gazing at Ruby, peacefully asleep beside me.
Gently stroking her soft black hair, I stared blankly at her angelic face.

Ruby will abandon her name, living as Ember.
This adorable child will become a witch, terrorizing Neotopia’s citizens as a heinous terrorist.

Why?
I still don’t know what triggers her change.

If it’s tied to the fairy tale I just read,
I won’t let her meet the same fate as the witch.

No matter what, I’ll protect her.

Pushing aside unease, I hugged Ruby tightly, forcing myself to sleep.
After tossing restlessly, I finally drifted off.
In my dream, a girl played joyfully with a bluebird in a forest.

A week passed.

Today marked the end of the month-long deal with the Reaper.
To honor the agreement, I headed to his company in broad daylight.

“You really gathered 100 million in two weeks.
Impressive.”

“Keep your promise.
You know cops are patrolling Rat Town, right?”

“No worries.
As long as you don’t slip up, the cops won’t find you.”

“…Can I trust you?”

“I’ve said it:
I only make choices that benefit me.
Our deal is part of that—no need to worry.”

His words didn’t inspire full trust.
Especially that creepy, unreadable face made me doubt more.

This place felt uncomfortable.
Unlike outside, the overly clean air and dim, dreary lighting irritated me.
Above all, his smirking, unsettling expression was infuriating.

I needed to finish this and return to Ruby for healing.

“Sent the payment.
Check it.”

“Received.
For the remaining 3 billion, pay whenever you can.
No deadline or interest, so no big deal.”

3 billion.
A daunting sum that drew a sigh.
The 100 million this time was only possible because Lycan accommodated my situation.
Realistically, earning 100 million per job is tough without major contracts.

I’ll think about that later.
As he said, no deadline or interest is a blessing.

If I diligently take missions like now, maybe I can pay it off before Ruby’s an adult.

By then, I’ll retire from merc work, leave this wretched slum, and live happily with Ruby.
Or maybe escape Neotopia entirely for another city.

Other cities aren’t much better, but Neotopia’s the worst hellhole in the world, hands down.

“Done?
I’m leaving.”

As I coolly turned to exit the office, his voice halted me.

“You’re quite the rising rookie, aren’t you?”

“Talking about me?”

“Of course.
How long since Red Dog added a new member?
Mercs and corporations are keeping close tabs on you.”

Already that big?
I’ve only had one official mission—my debut.

Missions don’t come daily.
Red Dog, called the top merc team, selects high-value contracts, delegating minor tasks to allied teams.

So, for the past week, I’ve focused on personal training under Karen’s guidance.
I’ve bonded with friendly mercs frequenting the bar, but not enough for rumors yet.

This money-grubbing Reaper wouldn’t bring this up without reason.
Sensing something off, I scowled, demanding.

“What’re you getting at?
Stop circling—get to the point.”

“Nothing* major.
Just saying:
Blooming flowers always attract bugs, so you should watch out.”

I wanted to snap at him for nonsense, but a memory stopped me from denying it.

The thug trio who harassed me right after joining Red Dog.
Two were crippled, one killed by Franklin’s gun.

No guarantee that won’t happen again.
The more famous I get, the likelier similar jerks will show up.

Sighing, already feeling sick at the thought.

“Fine.
Thanks for the warning.
Anything else?”

“Always rooting for you.”

“Ugh…
If you meant to gross me out, you nailed it.”

To think I’d hear such a revolting line from him.
My stomach churned.
Unable to endure more, I skipped goodbyes and bolted out.

“Hm…”

Outside, the air’s quality hit me.

Rat Town’s distinct sewer stench never gets easier.
But soon, it faded into normalcy—proof I’ve fully adapted to this environment.

Brushing off silly thoughts, I returned to the bar.

[Red Dog]

Staring briefly at the simple sign.
A red dog on a black background.
Honestly, not fitting for a bar’s name.
But since their main gig is merc work, it doesn’t matter.

While standing outside, gazing at the sign, I sensed commotion inside.
Unlike the usual drunken rowdies, this felt different.

Curious, I cautiously entered.
At the counter, a crowd gathered, Lycan facing them alone.

Approaching closer, their conversation grew clearer.

“Need to barge in like this?”

“Better than walking into enemy turf and dying solo.”

“That’s harsh.
Far as I know, we’re strangers.
Enemy turf?
You’re mercs too—we’re colleagues in the same trade.”

Tense atmosphere.
A bald merc, trading barbs with Lycan, sneered coldly.

“You killed our teammate, yet you talk so shamelessly.”

“Hey, seems like a misunderstanding…”

“Answer properly.
Your teammate killed our comrade!
Gonna keep dodging?”

With that, the man projected a hologram of a man’s face.
Spotting it through the crowd, I flinched, my expression hardening.

A familiar face from memory.
One of the thugs who always harassed me.
The last one who picked a fight, killed by Franklin’s gun.

Lycan’s icy gaze fixed on the hologram.
Sensing something spiraling wrong, I rushed forward to intervene.

But before I could, Lycan spoke.