Chapter 8.

A Petty Criminal of the Village (3)

Thus, after three days of farming fruits and vegetables from other people’s homes,

I entered the church and picked up a knife while looking at fruit whose hometown was, technically, someone else’s yard.

Holding the knife carefully, I brought it down at precise 3-millimeter intervals.

Thunk! Thunk! Thunk!

At the sound, Chef Kim Poco the teddy bear’s eyes gleamed.

After tossing a chunk of stone into the center of the furnace and adjusting the fire by blocking the air vent, Poco’s gaze followed me the entire time.

The stare was painfully intense.

Honestly, I felt a little guilty.

Shrinking my shoulders, I muttered:

“Y-you said I was good with a knife…”

Not good.

“…You said it was decent enough.”

Not complete garbage.

“…What about my cooking?”

Garbage.

His firm answer offended me slightly, but I kept my mouth shut.

The patch of human skin covering part of Poco’s head kept catching my eye.

Thanks to repeatedly sneaking into the church through the dog hole, we’d become familiar enough that I could occasionally offer timid resistance.

But that was all.

The emotional distance between me and that giant teddy bear had not narrowed enough for rebellion.

In other words, he was still terrifying.

It didn’t help that the hooks hanging from the ceiling were still twitching.

‘Come to think of it…’

A question suddenly surfaced in my mind.

Along with an odd sense of fear.

The myth of the woman who unleashed disaster upon the world by opening a forbidden box flashed through my thoughts.

But I shook my head.

‘…Not knowing would be the real disaster.’

This was something I needed to know if I wanted to continue eating Poco’s food with peace of mind.

After hesitating for a moment, I asked:

“Um… that meat hanging from the ceiling. It’s an ingredient… right?”

Right.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you use it.”

So far, Poco had used ingredients I brought him and supplies already stocked in the kitchen.

The variety was impressive:

Spices, vegetables, fruits, sausages and bacon, even strange-looking fish.

But never once had he used fresh meat.

When I pointed this out, Poco’s eyes seemed to narrow slightly.

Objectively speaking, his eyes were simple black buttons sewn onto a stuffed animal’s face.

Yet somehow, I was certain they had narrowed.

A moment later, the ladle in his paw was gently lowered into the pot.

His round black eyes glanced once at the meat hanging from the ceiling and once at me.

Then he spoke.

Almost casually.

Ingredient.

But—

Humans can’t eat it.

The brief answer completely overwhelmed me.

I obediently shut my mouth and continued slicing fruit.

My hands shook so badly that the fruit pieces became increasingly uneven, but I pretended not to notice.

I had a feeling it would be better not to ask any more questions.

After slicing all the apples and arranging them on a plate, I handed them to Poco.

With a critical eye, he sorted through them, picked out the misshapen pieces and the badly cut slices, stuffed those into my mouth, and took the rest away to cook in sugar.

Crunch.

The apples were delicious.

The apple pie topped with Poco’s candied apples was delicious too.

After storing most of the finished pies in my inventory bag, I left the kitchen carrying two of them.

Crossing the mountain path toward the village, I looked over the scenery below.

People could be seen here and there.

But…

‘There’s nobody over there…’

Near the house where I’d recently stolen apples, there were very few people around.

Staring at the area, I looked down at the pie in my hands.

Freshly baked.

Warm steam still rising from it.

A pie I honestly had no right to eat.

My conscience suffered a tiny scratch.

The same conscience belonging to a person whose greatest act of rebellion had been climbing over a school wall during evening study sessions to buy street food.

‘…Maybe they should at least get to taste the apples.’

After some thought, I walked over to a nearby basket someone had discarded.

I dusted it off, lined it with a sheet of paper, and placed the pies inside.

‘If they’re still here tomorrow, I’ll throw them away.’

Food left out at room temperature too long could cause food poisoning.

This was a medieval-occult-fantasy world.

There probably weren’t professional doctors or health insurance.

I had to be considerate about things like that.

After all, I couldn’t repay a kindness by accidentally poisoning someone.

Having settled the matter, I quickly returned home.

‘I should probably start preparing to meet the villagers soon…’

But not now!

And so I returned home and spent the day there.

Then, the following evening—

“Stop.”

“—!”

“It can’t hear sounds, but it’s sensitive to movement. Move slowly. Understand?”

I experienced an utterly unexpected story event.

* * *

Trouble always comes from unexpected places.

That was certainly true in my case.

The evening sky was gradually darkening.

As usual, I was wandering the village with a candle, collecting items.

Then I discovered that the apple pie I’d left in the basket had disappeared.

Whether the homeowner had eaten it or that little weasel had taken it, I couldn’t know.

But the important thing was that someone had eaten it.

If it was the former, then I’d at least partially repaid the cost of the fruit.

If it was the latter…

‘Then you’re my accomplice too, weasel.’

That would reduce my guilt by approximately 0.01 grams.

A positive outcome, from my perspective.

Thinking that, I checked my supplies.

One basic item each:

Thirty-four

Fifteen

Twelve

And in addition—

Twelve bowls of <Poco’s Special Meal>

Three servings of

And even three copies of the hidden item <David’s Doll>

‘At this point… I could probably enter tomorrow.’

Honestly, just thinking about going in there made my fingertips tremble.

My teeth chattered.

Goosebumps covered my skin.

My knees weakened.

Alarm bells rang through my head like an entire percussion ensemble.

But another feeling accompanied the fear.

The sense that delaying any longer would only make things worse.

That place was a horrifying realm of nightmares.

If I wanted to prepare perfectly before entering, I could spend ten years.

A hundred years.

Perfection didn’t exist.

The longer I delayed, the stronger my fear and obsession with “perfect preparation” would become.

‘…I never thought I’d be worrying about something like this while my life was literally on the line.’

But if I truly wanted to survive—

If I wanted to return home—

I needed to make a decision.

For motivation, I recalled everything I missed.

The used car I’d bought for commuting.

Food that arrived with a few taps on my phone.

The smartphone that let me contact distant friends anytime.

The bakery in front of my office that sold amazing scones…

Thinking about them hurt.

At the same time, the memories remained vivid.

Especially the smells.

I could almost imagine them.

The warm scent of freshly baked bread drifting from that bakery every morning.

Sniff sniff sniff.

“Ah… that really was nice.”

The first time I’d tried their bread, I’d loved it so much I bought five extra pieces to take home.

My father had complained, “Why’d you buy so many?”

Then he’d eaten two and a half.

My mother had eaten two.

I finished the rest.

Sniff sniff sniff.

Reflexively sniffing again, I sighed and dismissed the phantom scent.

Right.

It was time to face reality.

…But.

‘Can my sniffing really be that loud?’

The moment I slowly turned my head—

THERE YOU ARE!?

SKRRRRRRRRK—

At the same instant, I threw myself sideways.

A deafening noise erupted.

It sounded like something scraping a chalkboard with a giant spike.

A massive paw tore apart the spot where my head had been moments earlier.

Deep gouges scarred the stone ground.

‘I-if that had been me instead of the floor…’

I didn’t even want to imagine it.

My heart thrashed like a live fish.

My breathing became ragged.

It felt like my lungs were about to leap out of my mouth.

The only positive thing was that I was so shocked I couldn’t even scream.

Of course, that monster couldn’t hear.

But—

‘T-there might be o-other ones…’

BOOOOM!

SKRRRRRRRRRRRK—

Violent noises exploded behind me.

I didn’t look back.

No—

I couldn’t.

Watching an attack and dodging it was something brave people did.

For someone like me, the only answer was to run.

Retreat.

Retreat and nothing else.

My eyes desperately searched for an escape route.

A path.

I scanned the trail.

There was a trash can nearby, but I couldn’t hide while the monster was actively chasing me.

Then the hunter’s house?

‘…I already passed it!’

And the monster was closer to it than I was.

What about another house?

No.

That wouldn’t work either.

The interiors weren’t unlocked locations.

And there was no guarantee they’d have strong smells around them like the hunter’s yard.

Meaning help from others was—

‘Impossible.’

I’d never even met them.

Why would they help me?

Then what was the answer?

‘…Run home!’

David’s house was a safe zone.

As long as I got inside, everything would be fine.

I wasn’t sure I’d manage to open the door in time.

But every alternative was utterly hopeless.

1. Somehow outsmart the monster despite being too terrified to even look at it.
(Estimated success rate: 13.1%)

2. Hide from it until morning.
(Estimated success rate: 0.1%)

‘Home it is!’

The moment I turned—

CRAAACK!

Crunch… BOOM!

‘Holy… shit.’

A tree toppled behind me with a horrifying sound.

Forcing strength into my trembling legs, I ran.

If I hesitated now, I’d be meeting that dead tree in the afterlife.

And then I’d be dragged back into this world with that thing still in it.

The thought alone was horrifying enough that tears formed in my eyes as I sprinted down the trail.

Thirty meters to home.

Sniffsniffsniffsniffsniffsniff!

THERE YOU ARE THERE YOU ARE THERE YOU ARE!

CRUNCH—

I dashed across the stone road.

BANG!

I leapt over a shattered section of path trying to catch my feet.

CRACK— CRRRRK—

BAM!

BAM BAM BAM!

Ignoring the stones exploding from impacts behind me—

KRRRRAAAASH!

I kept running.

Running.

Running again.

Grabbing obstacles and shoving them under my arm as I passed.

Forcing my slipping feet back underneath me.

Reaching the end of the path—

‘…Five meters!’

Just as I stretched out a hand toward salvation—

Grab!

‘H-Huh…?!’

Someone’s wrinkled hand clamped over my mouth.

THUD!

We hit the ground together.

And then—

SKRRRRRRRRRRRK—!

A tremendous noise erupted overhead.