Chapter 06 The Girl and the Mercenaries (Part I)

The three boys had the same unruly brown hair and eyes as brown as mud. They were a few years older than her, but they were taller than most boys around their age. They also packed a bit of muscle from working in the mines.

It seemed like they grew a little bigger each time she saw them. They were away for most days of the month, but these well-known troublemakers picked on anyone weaker than them.

“Hey, that was dangerous, shorty. I’m walking here, see?” the oldest of the three, Uno, said smugly.

Sylvia looked down at the spilled water.

When House Winston took her in, servants cooked her meals and served them on time. Now, her meals depended on Shote. And Shote wouldn’t let her eat breakfast until she finished the first half of her morning chores—fetching water for the day and scrubbing the floors until they shone.

She glared at the triplets, making them scowl.

“Wha-What are you loo-looking at?” Dos shouted.

His speaking had improved over the years, and Sylvia would sincerely congratulate him for it if he weren’t his brother’s follower.

“Looks like she forgot her place, brother,” Tres added.

The three slowly walked towards her with amused grins. The oldest, the one who kicked her bucket, mashed a fist against his palm.

Sylvia looked around for help, but no one was even looking her way.

That was how things were in the slums. Minding one’s business kept one alive. And though the boys were merely teenagers, they’d also fight anyone who stood in their way.

‘Right. It was this kind of place.’

As the boys neared her, her heart fell to her stomach. Not from the fear of what they’d do to her, but from the thought that crossed her mind.

Since earlier, it had all been too unsettling.

Sleeping in, Shote barging into her room because of it, Taleer checking in on her, and now, the triplets picking a fight with her—they had all happened before.

And if memory served her right, none of them would be able to lay a hand on her.

“Oi, oi. What do we have here?” a man slurred as he emerged from the same path Sylvia took earlier.

She recognized him from what he was wearing because he was one of the bodies lying about that got robbed.

The man wore leather armor and had a short sword hanging on the belt around his waist. A scar ran vertically across his left eye, which had lost its color.

“Young’uns ere full ef energy this err-ley,” he said as he yawned.

A taller man with an overly large build supported him, though he himself looked like he had spent the night outside since his deep, black hair was a messy tangle and the tip of his nose had turned red.

This one wore loose-fitting trousers and leather boots. His well-defined muscular upper body easily drew attention. He had bandages wrapped around his hands and forearms, further emphasizing his intimidating build.

Sylvia recalled how she had first thought him to be wounded and later learned that those wraps were meant to protect him.

His thin lips lifted into a gentle smile, which reached his kind-looking, deep-seated eyes.

“Youth is a time of passion, brother,” this giant of a man replied.

A woman accompanied them, her skin tanned and her figure slim. Her thick reddish-brown waves bounced on her shoulders with each step. She squinted her eyes like she just wanted to close them.

She wore regular garments underneath her robe. But in her hand was a dagger she kept throwing in the air and catching like it was a ball.

Uno was the first to regain his composure.

“Don’t butt in! Who the hell are you—”

He stopped talking midway.

A dagger flew past him quicker than the eye could see, and pierced the wellhead, frightening the people in the queue. They scrambled about, running off in all directions.

“A-a-h-h-h … my aim was off,” she said as she swayed on her feet.

Then she pulled out another dagger from behind her.

She smiled as she raised her arm.

“The next won’t miss,” she said in a singsong voice.

The color drained from the triplets’ faces in an instant. They slowly backed away from the group, their eyes on them like they’d completely forgotten about Sylvia.

The giant man placed his hand on her shoulder and slowly shook his head, still with that gentle expression.

“Now, now, let’s all calm down,” he said.

“Hmph.”

She crossed her arms and looked away, the dagger dangling on a finger by the ring on the end of its hilt.

“Dummy. Bullies need to be taught a lesson. Hic!”

Sylvia wasn’t entirely sure since, besides her inclination to settle the situation by resorting to near-murder, she stood her ground, but like the passed-out man, apparently, she was also drunk.

A blush spread across the woman’s cheeks. She bowed her head and groaned. A palm pressed against her forehead.

“Ugh. I feel like shit.”

“That’s because you overexerted yourself, sister.”

“Ugh. You don’t have to tell me. Dummy.”

“Yer shey serry!” the man with the scar yelled out all of a sudden.

Then he slumped forward again like he had suddenly lost consciousness. If it weren’t for his companion, whose strength kept him upright, he’d have crumpled to the ground.

The boys flinched at his shout. They looked at each other, and having communicated their thoughts through their eyes, nodded together.

“Well? Say ‘sorry’ to the girl. Dumbasses!”

Sylvia picked up the empty bucket and walked towards the well. With her back turned to them, no one would see her smiling.

She really saw them again, and they were as peculiar as before.

The three were members of a mercenary group Sylvia met only on this instance in her previous life. When the war began, they voluntarily joined the draft and secured many achievements before eventually meeting their respective ends. Lord Marcus once spoke of them during one of their talks.

“Hey, come back here! Dumbass jerks!”

Sylvia threw the wooden bucket down the well and watched as the three boys ran away after being threatened by the mercenary group.

The events unfolded a bit different from her memory. Had Sylvia not gone to the well before the mercenaries finished scaring them, she would’ve received a half-baked apology.

Nevertheless, the result was similar.

Sylvia chuckled to herself. She must really be losing her mind.

‘I died and came back to life, got scolded the moment I got here and almost got beat up.’

‘My life was shit, now that I think about it.’

For some reason, Sylvia was reminded of a certain villainess’s words—of how a beggar would always be a beggar.

It ticked her off so, knowing that she was living in luxury while here she was laboring for a meal.

It truly ticked her off.

So much so that Sylvia’s leg swung back and kicked the stone wall of the well.

-gn_cc-