Chapter 0: Flame

The day the hero defeated the Demon King and saved the world, I got beaten up by my master. Fanfares and fireworks peeked through the window cracks, painting my face in vibrant colors, but I lay on the floor, rubbing my stinging wounds.

“Long live the hero! Long live the hero!”

In the end, it was all someone else’s business. The marches by the people called heroes, celebrating their victory over the Demon King, and the fact that our master couldn’t make it into the capital and had to remain stuck in this backwater village-it was all someone else’s business.

But always, misfortune came knocking because of someone else’s business.

Today was no different. Because the hero defeated the Demon King and demanded his rights, the hero’s relatives and family members became officials of the kingdom. So, our master couldn’t return to the capital this time either. A few letters written by a demoted official were weaker than a blood relation certificate proving someone was the hero’s cousin.

That’s why master beat me today. I rubbed my bruised forehead and looked out the window. Today, too, I had to reflect in this dark, damp attic due to my master’s anger.

Rats squeaked, and the straw was damp, smelling rotten. If I slept overnight, the damp smell would cling to my body, making everyone avoid me. Then, master would punch me again, citing my stench.

“Long live the hero! Long live the hero!”

“Fucking bastards.”

I gathered the straw to cover myself. Tomorrow, I had to wake up before dawn to fetch water, so I needed to get to sleep now. The light filtering through the window cracks sparkled more than stars, disturbing my habit of falling asleep counting them.

“Seriously, fucking assholes.”

When I couldn’t fall asleep, old memories always surfaced. From the painful memories of being hit today to the memories from my childhood. Hateful memories that completely filled my head.

Terrible memories that kept me from sleeping.

“I’m gonna kill them.”

I was an orphan.

“I’ll kill them all. Fucking bastards.”

If orphans had ranks, I was the lowest of the low. I grew up on the streets from a young age, begging as soon as I was weaned. The thug who looked after me would punch me first when I brought back money, then toss me a piece of hard bread instead of a thick wad of cash.

He was always a pathetic man pretending to be brave. When the guards actually came to crack down on the group of beggars, he’d claim I was the leader of the gang and slip money to the captain of the guard. The guard captain accepted the thug’s claim, took me away, and I was dragged to the slave market without a trial.

Back then, the guard captain who sent me to the slave market said something like, ‘Be grateful for this lenient treatment.’ At the time, I genuinely thought it was something to be grateful for.

And after changing masters several times, this mansion became my current residence.

Half my life was like garbage, and the other half was like merchandise. Getting beaten up daily for pointless reasons, my life was likely to be disposed of soon.

“Fucking bastard.”

So, I hugged the straw and spat out curses.

Living a life of having sex with his wife every day and chugging fancy wine, it was understandable he’d get upset over a trivial reason like not being able to go to the capital. He had no way of knowing how I faced each day.

My master who beats me, the maids in the mansion who ignore me, the servants who bully me.

I wanted to smash them all.

I wanted revenge.

I wanted to live in luxury like those heroes and inflict pain on everyone.

Knock

Knock

Knock

And then, a demon knocked on the window and spoke to me.

“Could you open the window?”

She had purple skin, and her eyes shone like rubies. Her large breasts were brazenly exposed by a single, cheap-looking undergarment, and her flowing hair shimmered in various colors, reflecting the light.

People were shouting.

“Long live the hero! Long live the hero!”

And the demon said to me,

“It’s really been a long time.”