Chapter 200

200th Chapter

Hassan’s Business

200 – Hassan’s Business #3

Creak, creak.

An uneasy sound spreads each time I step on the wooden floor.

Indeed, there are numerous holes patched up with planks, scattered all over the wooden floor.

The condition of the timber is gloomy, almost as if consumed by dampness and insects, and occasionally through the slightly open door cracks, pairs of eyes watch me with meaningful glances.

This place doesn’t even feel like a cheap motel.

The inn I frequent called the Nymph’s Wings is different from this ‘Nymph’s Eyes Inn’. This establishment only shares the name ‘Nymph’ with the other; its maintenance levels and conditions seem to be entirely distinct.

Whereas the Nymph’s Wings had the lively vibe of people eating, drinking, and chatting as they try to get through the day, this place merely feels like a destination reached out of desperation.

What’s the best way to describe this?

The primitive medieval version of a dormitory?

Yeah, I think I’ll just see it that way.

And the kind of person who tried to hang themself in such an inn, Carolde, is becoming somewhat clear in my mind.

A thief—someone who started as a new low-tier Iron adventurer, just barely scraping by to make a living.

“Hmm, this is your room.”

While I was lost in thought, the innkeeper, who was carrying a lantern, abruptly stopped in front of a door.

Room 204

Second floor.

And because the room is the fourth from the staircase, it’s number 204. The closed door appears normal, even if slightly old.

Jingle, click.

The innkeeper soon rummages through their pocket for a key bunch, unlocking the door, and with that, the sound of the lock being released rings out. Simultaneously, the owner heavily sighs and says:

“Hmph, I’m going as far as here. There’s no way I can enter inside… You handle it from here.”

It seemed as if they didn’t dare open the door to peek inside.

“Return the key later. I… I’ll go down now. A customer might come… And I have to feed the cats I keep outside—”

He mumbles nonsensically and scurries away the way he came.

What lies behind the door to make him so fearful?

I recalled the fact that one of the things firefighters hesitate most to do is respond to abandoned s*icide reports.

Could it be that something similarly gruesome awaits behind the door? Thinking about it made me hesitate too.

But now, I am a Samaritan, known as a barbarian, and a rookie adventurer with a growing reputation. If I’m afraid of this, I might become a laughingstock.

So, I bolster my courage by recalling Luna’s face, who works hard back home. Luna must be doing her job even now. Hence, I can’t keep cowering in fear forever.

And so, placing my hand on the doorknob, I turn it and slowly shove the door open. Inside, despite it being broad daylight, is so dark that it’s hard to make out anything.

Could it be due to the curtains drawn?

The room is completely cloaked in darkness, the cold air reminiscent of the Noble’s shuttered hideaway villa.

Indeed. I paused, realizing that the feeling in this room reminded me of that villa.

Hesitant to enter.

Thankfully, there was no sight as repulsive as I had anticipated.

So, catching my breath momentarily, I decided to step slowly into the room.

My hand was heading straight for the curtain deep inside the room, thinking that uncovering it might brighten the place.

Clatter, shuffle.

My footsteps met with obstacles, slightly annoying me, but I was able to reach the curtain.

SHUUUW…

As I pulled it aside, a bright light spilled in, illuminating the room.

A single stream of light amidst the unsettling darkness provided quite a reassuring atmosphere.

It was clear why many religions hold light and illumination in the highest regard.

“Whoa, sh*t.”

Of course, when the obscure becomes illuminated, there’s often something quite bizarre to behold. My furrowed eyebrows deepened at the sight revealing itself.

Firstly, as expected, were the wooden walls surrounding the room.

Similar to the hallways, these walls, riddled with dampness and insect damage, were covered with countless characters carved into them as if gouged out by sharp objects.

However, their handwriting was indecipherable, and I had no clue what they said.

I can imagine that someone who carved words all over the walls likely had an unstable mind, making it difficult to comprehend their scrawls.

Still, it created a deeply unsettling atmosphere. And it was apparent that people in this world, sensitive to religion and superstitions, wouldn’t be eager to come here.

Surely, a truly bold Samaritan warrior wouldn’t care much about this?

“There’s nothing worth worrying about.”

So, muttering this incantation to myself, I composed myself. Surprisingly, it worked—my furrowed brows relaxed a bit.

Swoosh.

Finally, I quickly scanned the entire room.

And what I discovered were peculiar wooden figurines scattered on the floor. Were these the ones that my feet had accidentally kicked in the dark?

Their size was just a little bigger than the palm of my hand.

In total, there were about seven of them. Two of them were quite intricately carved, but the rest simply resembled human forms.

Were they carved by Carolde? Why are they unfinished?

The irregular objects left me unsure of their significance.

So, as I explored the area for any useful clues, I only discovered what looked like half-eaten rat bones beneath the bed, leftover by a stray cat or some other creature.

Truly, that was all there was.

“sh*t, what is this?”

With no leads, my investigation felt futile. Contemplating what to do, I suddenly had an idea upon seeing the rat bones.

Swoosh.

I gestured toward the dried-up rat bones. Responding, it shakily moved, eventually illuminating its hollow cranium with an eerie blue glow.

Reviving a corpse this small didn’t even require a summoning chant—a mere gesture was enough.

My sword skills haven’t improved much lately, but strangely, my necromancy proficiency keeps growing. While skill development is good, I worry about being labeled a cultist and hunted down if I become too engrossed in it.

Clatter, clink.

Nevertheless, the skeletal rat, roused by my gesture, quickly climbed onto my foot and nestled into my palm.

“Is there any chance Carolde the man has hidden something around here? Look for it.”

Clack.

Thus, the skeletal rat eagerly began to scurry around. It soon made its way up to the bed—specifically, a pillow fashioned by rolling up a blanket and straw.

The rat wriggled into the gap, struggling a bit. Grasping it by its tailbone and gently pulling, a flat object emerged from its mouth.

A notebook?

It appeared to be a notebook made from leather.

“Is this it? Is there nothing more?”

Clack, clack.

“Alright, let me give you a reward.”

And stroking its head in appreciation,

“Rest now.”

Clatter.

I released the necromancy. It felt as if the rat had comfortably passed back into eternal sleep.

Anyway, the crucial item now wasn’t the skeletal rat but this notebook.

Perhaps it contained information about the secret dungeon the Goblin King and he had discovered?

As I opened it, I was immediately met with slanted, messy handwriting.

This person’s handwriting is truly terrible.

However, considering this person was capable of carving such meticulous figurines, it must have been written hurriedly while under extreme stress.

Somehow, after painstakingly deciphering it, I began to read the content.

However, with some pages torn apart and parts illegible, only a few could be understood.

The abandoned shrine site in the west is worthless. Just weeds and piles of dirt. What kind of income can be made there? Surely, a general goods store would be a better business.

This guy, how many herbs and insects fly around there? He probably spent his life stealing others’ money and living comfortably, but he doesn’t know how to make money.

One day, I found a hole in a crevice between rocks. It looks like a rabbit’s burrow, but the space inside seems significantly large. With the intuition of a long-time thief, I suspect treasures might be hidden inside.

A hole in a rock crevice? A rabbit burrow?

I quickly turned to the next page.

Shuffle.

Inside, what I saw was a Goblin. Many goblins. An overwhelming horde of goblins appeared from nowhere as if the gates of hell had been opened.

Ah, goblins!

Finally, some useful information.

Of course, sneaking past the goblins’ sight and venturing deeper was quite simple. Although numerous, the demonic lackeys are generally unintelligent. And so, delving deeper, what I discovered was a grand chair made of bones. And seated on it was a massive… massive Goblin.

The massive Goblin!

d*mn, just as I suspected, the Goblin King must indeed be gigantically oversized.

A giant goblin… so his skull must be ridiculously huge. Carrying that would surely instantly boost my reputation.

However, as I turned to the next page to see what was written there, it appeared the following story had been lost due to the torn pages.

Eventually, I found a readable passage, which read:

I saw it. The future where the Seven Plagues crawl forth from the depths. They who were born and raised in Hell are devils. They mocked and ridiculed everything humans like me have built. Even now, I can still hear their laughter ringing in my ears. Oh, Merciful Mercury, please deliver me from this tribulation.

From what I can tell, the man was absolutely stricken with fear.

A future where the Seven Plagues crawl forth… demons, perhaps? Could these figures tie back to the wooden statues lying on the ground? Given the information I currently have, I cannot conceive of anything else.

As I flipped to the next page,

And the next,

I encountered nothing but the repeated phrase: “Oh, Merciful Mercury, deliver me from this ordeal.”

The farther back I turned, the more illegible the handwriting became.

I suddenly realized that the scratches covering the walls of the room were inscriptions of Mercury’s name.

Why would someone fill a room with the name of a god? Perhaps he was seeking a talisman of sorts?

A man quaking with terror and panic, frantically inscribing the name of God on the walls, came vividly to mind. But it was far from a pleasant image.

“The notebook will be well-used by me.”

With the realization that there was nothing left to see here, I grabbed the notebook and the two completed wooden figurines, storing them carefully in the pouch tied at my waist.

Looks like an entrance resembling a rabbit’s burrow.

A rabbit’s burrow between rocks.

I should be able to find it in half a day of searching around.

So, after stepping outside, I headed directly toward the western gate of Sodomora without hesitation. Though I was somewhat worried about tackling a dungeon overflowing with goblins alone,

I also knew that seeking help from other adventurers might disperse the recognition that should solely belong to me.

If I asked a great adventurer like Hippolyte for assistance, it would be Hippolyte’s name that gained fame, and I’d merely be seen as a footnote beside her.

Thus, naturally, the only choice was to solo this.

Of course, what I’m attempting may not strictly qualify as soloing.

Cack!

Crack!

Without fail, I caught hold of two goblin skulls with my gauntlets and shattered them before reanimating them as my undead minions glowing with blue light.

“Do you guys know anything about the Goblin King?”

Clack, clack.

I asked on a slim chance they might know something, but judging from the way they only clacked their jaws, they probably don’t.

Well, it seems like they’re typical stupid goblins.

Then, search for a rabbit’s burrow in the rock crevice. Look thoroughly. Bring me any goblin corpses you encounter along the way, and hide if you see any people. Now go.

Swoosh.

As soon as my commands finished, the two undead hunched low and quickly disappeared from view.

This is…

My solo play style.

Thus, when the scouts returned a while later,

Clack, clack.

“Did you find it?”

Clack.

“sh*t, good job.”

I couldn’t help but feel triumphant, realizing my method was not wrong.

I’m capable of such effective work after all.

Newspaper guy, take that!

Breaking news!

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