Chapter 151

<.. Hassan of Samaria and the Thief With Nine Heads ..>

151 – Hassan of Samaria and the Thief With Nine Heads #2

I imagine myself destroying the lock right in front of me.

But I’m no spy-action movie hero, and such a vivid image refuses to come to mind.

Would it even be possible for me to shatter this sturdy lock no matter how much strength I exert?

A fleeting doubt crosses my mind, but now isn’t the time for negativity—I need to focus on the potential within myself. Imagination can become reality.

Therefore, I must conjure the image of unleashing a mighty finishing blow.

“Man-hae!”

C-rack, Krrrak!

The club I tightly grip starts to emit an ominous sound, as if screaming in pain, and I swing it down with all my might like a bolt of lightning striking the earth.

“Re-Quiem!”

Whoosh-!

Bang!

My club descends like a loaded guillotine, perfectly striking the lock on the iron bars with a loud bang.

Rather than the sound of metal colliding, it is closer to an explosion, leaving my ears ringing.

“Ughh!”

“Kyaa!”

Startled by the loud noise, several spectators scream and curl up their bodies. But I have no time to worry about them.

Tingling, tingling.

My hands feel as though they’ve been struck by lightning.

I might have injured my wrist tendon.

I put too much force into it.

“Hoo-.”

I exhale deeply, trying to calm my now-agitated heart.

Clang, thud..

Before me lies the lock’s shackle, separated from its thick body, shattered and now lying on the ground. I’ve managed to break it.

Rather than the pain in my hand, a strange sense of exhilaration wells up within me at the thought of breaking this sturdy device with my own strength.

But the great booming sound and my war cry seem to have frightened others, their faces now rigid with tension and fear.

The only thing that comes to mind in this situation is Paranoi licking candy.

“A-!!! That’s!!!”

Paranoi shouts, her mouth and eyes wide open as though she’s seen something astonishing.

“..That, that is!!! The second of Lord Hassan’s 24 lethal techniques!!! The mighty and sturdy Samaritan club!!!”

Now I’m certain. Paranoi is seriously damaged. This is the life of someone targeted as material every single day.

“..Mr. Hassan! Using such a dangerous technique in such a crowded place…!!! If we’d stumbled, everyone here could have died…!!!”

That little nymph might as well be broken.

But the problem is that the previously uneasy atmosphere is now slowly beginning to stir thanks to Paranoi’s words.

“What, what lethal technique?”

“…They said it’s extremely dangerous? The sound was incredible…”

“I thought my heart was going to burst…”

At the people’s reactions, my heart begins to pound as well. What am I even doing here?

Right at that moment, someone speaks. It’s a woman with a long piece of cloth wrapped around her head like a turban.

“I’ve heard this before. Samaritans have these mighty and sturdy clubs… so much so that, once you taste it, you don’t return, whether you’re a man or a woman…”

“…A warning to hide your daughters and sons from Samaritans? I’ve heard that too. Indeed, it makes sense now. They will shatter everything!”

“Yeah…”

“Na-ah…”

The venue grows noisy as everyone starts chiming in with their own tales. People look at me and start whispering—broken is not just Paranoi but also the general atmosphere.

“By the way, isn’t this guy Hassan from Samaria the one everyone’s been talking about lately?”

“Wow… I’ve only heard songs and rumors. This is the first time I’m seeing him in person. He really does have a mighty and sturdy club.”

“Didn’t I hear that the noble young lady of the city specially cultivated and cherished this club?”

Certainly, they’re talking about the club, but for some reason, I feel an involuntary twitch in my lower half.

Where did everything go wrong?

Anyway, being in the midst of this commotion was something my soft-hearted nature couldn’t endure. So, I decide to speak to sort this out quickly.

“Now, the lock is open, so we’re done, right?”

“…I can’t believe anyone could really break a titanium lock with brute strength.”

The hooded man, the interviewer from the Thieves’ Guild, mutters as he stares at the shattered titanium lock.

Creak, click.

He tries to piece the broken lock back together as if testing it, but eventually tosses it casually to the floor.

“Completely shattered. I don’t want to admit it, but against sheer raw strength, neither skill nor wisdom is necessary. You pass. A wildling will be yours. However, pay one silver piece as an entry fee.”

“Okay.”

I hand over the silver coin I had ready and officially gain the chance to obtain the wildling.

“Hassan, how did you break something so strong?”

Luna asks while handing over the wildling to me.

However, Luna seems more reluctant to pass it over than she is curious about the broken lock.

-Guee-ing.

Luna wanted to use this monstrous creature to make potions. Without any stat-boosting totems available right now,

I decide to simply give her the prize I’ve won.

“Here, take it. It’s a present from me.”

“..Really? This costs 2 gold per unit!”

“Yep, really.”

“Wow! Thanks!!”

Luna was literally jumping for joy. Watching Luna being happy made me feel good too. I’ve felt this before, but now I think I understand why lovers exchange gifts.

“Well, I’ll make a potion and give it to you first, Hassan! Hehe, Wildling Elixir.”

Seeing the other person’s joy naturally makes you want to give them anything. Malco, observing this under his red, wavy hair, finally chimed in.

“A Samarian and a mighty, sturdy club – sounds like it could make a great song. Wealthy older ladies would go crazy for that material.. Maybe you should move your performances to the affluent back streets this time…”

“Shut up, kid.”

I carefully tuck my club into my waistband and massage my wrist, which still tingles. My tendon might be hurt.

A condition like Carpal Tunnel Syndrome is common among masseurs who use their hands often; nothing new there.

Keyboards and mice are chronic issues for modern people as well,

“The container cannot keep up with the power.”

Just then, the hooded man spoke from behind me.

Swish.

He handed me a small glass bottle sealed with a cork. Inside the clear and smooth glass bottle, like a potion bottle, was a dried scroll.

“What is this?”

“You’re Hassan of Samaria, right? You passed the interview. If you go where it says, you’ll find the officials waiting for you.”

Oh, now that I think about it, this was the Thieves’ Guild interview.

Shi-bar-ruh, breaking and eliminating the Thieves’ Guild, what a failure; I ended up passing their interview.

Still, it’s fortunate that I have an opportunity to delve deep into their organization. So, I uncorked the bottle and unfolded the parchment inside.

Swoosh.

“What is this?”

*

When we emerged from the underground sewer, the sky had already grown dark. Thanks to the free money we received, our arms were heavy with the spoils of our shopping spree.

Everyone impulsively spent the saved gold coins we had.

Still, I think I used my funds meaningfully. From an underground store, I bought an exclusive pair of titanium-plated gauntlets for four gold and equipped them.

Shwul, four-gold protective gear.

Click.

The thick titanium plating might be heavy, but aside from that, it seems to protect my wrist and fingers well. My fingers are the most critical assets I possess now.

Besides, titanium-plated gauntlets or steel-toed boots can themselves double as weapons.

Ankle braces, leg guards, gauntlets, and chest armors..

Wearing all this heavy gear is somewhat arduous, but outwardly, I now look quite the adventurer.

At a glance, I don’t appear like a novice anymore, but someone more seasoned, who has completed many requests over two to five years.

The only thing lacking now is shoulder armor or a helmet? Once I have those, becoming “The Steel Warrior Hassan” will no longer be a dream.

“So, how about we have one more drink? It seems we’ve still got some time before it gets completely dark.”

Malco, emerging from the underground, looks at the faintly glowing moons in the sky and asks. Coolly drinking an icy beer after shopping sounds nice, but..

“I want to make the potion quickly! I bought mandrake roots, giant mushrooms, dried ash leaves; I’m sure something amazing will come out.”

-Guee-ing.

Luna wiggles the packages she’s carrying in both hands and clearly wishes to return to the hut immediately. Her demeanor reminds me of one of my friends who liked building model kits.

He would always be in a rush to go home and piece them together whenever he bought new kits.

Come to think of it, maybe there’s not much difference between Luna’s potion making and model-building—it seems both pursuits come from a dedicated focus on one activity.

“Paranoi! You come too! You must help me!”

“Am, am I supposed to..?”

“Yeah, tonight you’ll stay over! If we have nymph extract, h-heh, definitely, heh heh heh—”

Luna couldn’t continue her giggling. She must be imagining something delightful. So, eventually, it ended up being just Malco and I having a drink.

“Once in a while, we need to spend some time just among men, Hassan!” Luna said, making sure I wouldn’t visit the hut for a while.

Luna occasionally does this when working on secret ingredients that she doesn’t usually show me. By this point, I am quite curious about what it could be.

But having time where I don’t need to worry about anything and can relax and drink freely isn’t bad, either.

So, while Luna and Paranoi headed back to the hut, Malco and I went to look for a tavern.

I usually end up at “Wings of the Nymph” Inn, where I might encounter some elven friends, but this time I’m trying to find something different.

At that moment, Malco spoke in a very lecherous tone.

“Since the ladies have gone ahead, let’s take this chance to visit a men-only tavern.”

“An underground tavern?”

“Good that you understand quickly. There, if you take some ‘happiness powder,’ you’ll feel exceptionally good.”

Happiness powder?

Just hearing that made me break out in cold sweat.

“Is such a thing real?”

“Ho ho, looks like my brother still doesn’t know much about the joys this continent offers. Just follow me today.”

Malco’s back suddenly looked monstrously large, and for a moment, he seemed like a profound elder of life.

This guy, it seems, has climbed several rungs of life’s ladder that I haven’t.

Come to think of it, he always seemed a bit off as if he were high on something. Turns out he actually was. That’s certainly a twist.

“So, what’s so great about it?”

“It’s the best around here. Once you taste it, you won’t be able to quit.”

So we wound through the alleys of the slums and arrived at the entrance to an unusual basement, blocked by enormous guards.

“You can’t just come in here.”

These hulks, who are about the same size as me, are quite intimidating. Of course, they also seem tense as they frown at the sight of me standing behind.

“If you plan to cause trouble once inside, we won’t let you through.”

“Drunk Samarians are known for creating chaos. You best turn back.”

Shi-ba, being cut off at the entrance like a barbarian. I always feel slightly resentful when mistaken for one of those black-haired barbarians, even though our hair just looks similar. d*mn Samarian bastards.

At that moment, Malco pulls out a few coins from his pocket.

“That friend of mine is going to experience it for the first time today. Please let us in.”

The guards’ expressions relax slightly after receiving the coins.

“First time, huh?”

“Ho ho, that’s enviable. I too had a first time once. Now, I can no longer taste that same flavor.”

Swish.

With that, the men stepped aside to open the entrance.

“Go ahead. But don’t cause any trouble.”

For some unknown reason, despite differences in race and age, I feel a strange sense of camaraderie among men. Shi-ba, what is this?

Anyway, with a nervous heart, we descended the stairs into the underground.

A strong sense that we might be up to something bad, a lingering doubt wondering if we should turn back, and a huge surge of curiosity weighed against each other.

Tap, Tap-Tap.

Just then, the sounds of instruments being played, clapping, and boisterous laughter reached us.

Contrary to my expectation of a dark and damp underground club, what lay before me was a rather bright and ordinary tavern.

The only difference was that a woman draped in thin cloth, her face hidden behind a veil, was dancing in rhythm with the applause and music.

Her passionate red hair flows along with a revealing cloth that only covers the essential areas, with a noticeably thin but dark-skinned stomach adding an intriguing look.

She dances tirelessly, moving her bare feet gracefully. Coins keep falling beneath her as she continues.

Ah, it must be a Sandman dancer. In this case, should it be called a Sandgirl?

“Isn’t it splendid? Kalidur’s little sister really loved it here. Let’s go over there and sit. From there, you get the best view of the dancing girls.”

This certainly isn’t the kind of tavern you’d bring someone as delicate as Luna or Paranoi to. Of course, most of the patrons here are men.

I obediently follow Malco and sit on a chair. I haven’t had a single drop of alcohol but feel dizzy as if drunk.

Is it the scent of spices or maybe the smell of the happiness powder? A spicy fragrance is tickling my nose.

“Owner, come take our order.”

Malco calls out to the turbaned Sandman owner walking toward him.

“Dorgo, I’ll take your order. Today, we have top-notch Moonlark ale.”

“Hey, you d*mn Dorgo!”

“Oh, a barbarian.”

—————————== End of Work Reflections ===——————-

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