Chapter 11
“Ah!”
Brian, who had been fleeing, was yanked backward by the collar and thrown roughly to the ground. He clutched his buttocks and glared upward.
The one who had caught him was a black-haired, handsome boy—the same boy from inside the Behemoth building.
The boy stared down at Brian with a disinterested expression.
“What—what is this?!”
Behind him, Lana approached, her face shadowed as she gripped a hammer.
“Wh-what did I even do?!”
“You’ve got nerve, running your mouth like that.”
“Crazy bastard? You! How do you expect to get married acting so violent, huh?!”
“Even if I marry, it won’t be to you, so mind your business. What the hell are you?!”
“What?!”
“Why do you keep peeping, you bastard?!”
Lana slammed her hammer into the ground. A loud crack split the air as the solid floor fissured.
Brian scooted backward on his butt and snorted.
“Me? Peek at you? At someone like you?”
“Someone like me? Listen to this mutt bark. Just shut it.”
When Lana mock-swung the hammer, Brian groaned and curled into a ball.
She jammed the hammer back into the floor with a thud, then exhaled sharply at his pitiful state.
“Hey, pervert. Listen up. These aren’t here for your staring—” she pointed to her chest, “—and that window isn’t for peeping. So why do you keep ogling me with those bug eyes? It’s disgusting.”
Lana spun the hammer’s handle menacingly. The tool, embedded in the floor, oozed a faint aura she’d channeled into it.
Brian gulped.
By now, a crowd had formed around them, murmuring.
Brian rolled his eyes, then cleared his throat.
“When did I ever—?”
“When did you? When?” Lana sneered.
Brian glowered. “Y-you’re just trying to extort money, aren’t you?!”
“What?”
Lana’s face twisted. Money? This creep got caught staring at her chest, and now he was playing the victim? She raked a hand through her hair.
“What’s this idiot babbling about?”
“Work’s been slow, so you’re shaking me down for cash, right?!”
“Hey! Just because my shop’s struggling doesn’t mean I’d sink to this!”
As Lana grabbed her hammer, someone in the crowd yelped. She froze, biting her lip. Hold back. You have to.
Then it began.
“Was it really about money?”
“No wonder—how else would they survive without commissions?”
Whispers of money, money rippled through the crowd.
“...?!”
What are they all saying?! Lana whirled around.
Someone behind her muttered, “Didn’t she lie last time too? Claimed Brian tried to extort her.”
Lana gaped.
Ayan stood nearby, indifferent, while the rest were locals.
Brian seized the moment. “Disgusting. Framing me as a pervert for cash?”
“You bastard! Why would I need your money?!”
“Got proof?”
“What?!”
“Proof I was peeking? Show it!”
“Everyone at Behemoth saw you! Playing dumb now?!”
“Ha! How do I know you’re not all conspiring against me?!”
This bastard’s all talk...!
“Then where’s your proof I want your money? Huh?!”
Brian just smirked, refusing to answer.
“...?”
Lana scanned the crowd. The idea of her scheming for money spread like a plague.
Her fists clenched. Her throat tightened; her stomach turned.
Even broke, she’d never stoop to this.
But to the crowd, framing Brian made more sense than him being a pervert—despite his reputation for leering, and the area’s history of creeps.
Their stares chilled her. Logic be damned—they’d doubt her regardless.
Lana gripped the hammer.
This bastard’s not worth a single swing.
Her hand tightened.
Should I kill him?
The thought tantalized, but reality intervened.
Kill him? In public? The village elder’s son?
His family lacked a title but were quasi-nobility. Killing him would doom her and Seir.
Despair crushed her. As she turned to leave—
“See? No comeback now?”
“...What?”
Brian bared his teeth. “Your sister in on it too? Pretty thing. Did you both come here to sell yourselves?”
“You—!”
“Leave my sister out of this...!” Lana’s hands shook. Brian’s roving eyes clung like parasites.
Does someone like Seir even deserve to live? Sweat drenched her palm.
“Scary, really. Two girls opening a blacksmith shop in the sticks? Here to make quick cash with your bodies? Already struck gold elsewhere?”
Murmurs of agreement rose.
Since childhood, they’d endured scorn for wielding hammers. They’d moved here to escape the stigma—only to face worse.
“Always thought it was weird. Women running a forge? In a backwater like this...”
The crowd, egged on, piled on insults.
Brian puffed up. “You and that bitch, selling yourselves—”
“Shut up.”
Lana adjusted her grip, wiping sweat.
“...?”
“Shut up and die.”
She raised the hammer, aura blazing—
“Hey, pervert. How much money you got?”
A small girl’s voice cut through.
