Max was born in the slums of the capital city.
From a very young age—so young he could barely remember—he had witnessed the worst of humanity. Cheating husbands and wives, daughters sneaking off to meet secret lovers, strangers hiding in the slums, the subtle changes in someone's demeanor when they suddenly had enough for alcohol one day after having nothing to eat the day before, scenes of theft, even murder.
It didn't take him long to learn that these sorts of secrets could be turned into money.
He started by blackmailing the butcher's wife, who was having an affair with the man next door, and tracked down the runaway daughter of an old man who wanted to marry her off to a seventy-year-old for money.
Such acts became his everyday life, and as he grew older, Max began to use the children of the slums to collect information from every dark corner of the backstreets.
By the age of ten, he started selling that information to guilds.
Max often thought that while there were many brilliant individuals in this world, when it came to selling information, he himself might be something close to a genius.
Since then, Max had steadily expanded his information network, selling details on events happening not only in the capital but across the kingdom to guilds, nobles, and anyone willing to pay. Once enough time had passed and secrets were no longer as sensitive, he would resell the information to town criers, traveling poets, writers, or even to different, far-off regions.
It didn't always have to be earth-shattering news. Noble marriages, illegitimate children, even stories about dogs fighting wolves—anything that piqued curiosity could make money.
And at twenty-three years old, he hit the jackpot.
He was the first to discover that Helga the Barbarian had entered the Demon Forest.
He sold that information to the ducal house, to the assassination guild, to Helga's enemies one by one, and to the publishers. Even now, people still sought him out for updates, and it always meant easy money.
Everyone was fascinated by the fact that the Duke's heir had been kidnapped by a barbarian.
What had happened to him? What was happening to him? Everyone wanted to know.
Just selling guesses about what might have happened or confirming that there was still no news was enough to turn a profit.
Even now, more than twenty years later, Helga and Klaus remained sources of constant revenue.
"If only there were some big development by now…" Max sighed. Even just finding a piece of their clothing would be enough. That alone would make the entire world buzz with excitement.
But Helga had vanished without a trace since she entered the Demon Forest.
He'd thought she might come out after a few years, but who knows what she was doing in that terrible place. Maybe she just died there.
Max sighed again. There was a good chance she was dead.
The Duke's household and many noble families had sent countless hunting parties, but searching the vast Demon Forest for two people was like looking for a needle in a haystack. More often than not, the hunting parties ended up being hunted themselves by the beasts of the forest, with less than half ever making it back alive.
The Demon Forest was that dangerous.
Helga might have been one of the strongest of all the barbarians, but even she could not endure forever. If she had died, then Klaus—who lacked any notable skills—would have certainly met the same fate.
"Ha… There's such a huge bounty on Klaus…"
There was, of course, a bounty on Helga too.
But the bounty on Klaus, the heir of the Duke's house, was something else entirely. The reward was astronomical. If someone could bring Klaus back to the Duke's family alive—or even provide a solid clue about his whereabouts—they could make a fortune. Enough to stop dealing in information and live in luxury for the rest of their lives.
Max sighed deeply again and continued walking.
There were several paths into the Demon Forest.
Every year, he picked some of the most likely places Helga might come out of, wandering from one to the next.
This year, he was skirting the road along the northern edge of the western side of the Demon Forest.
Max sat on a boulder, pulling out a sheet of paper, and began to jot down information gathered from the village he had passed a few days earlier and the one he was heading towards.
He couldn't justify spending money to wander these dangerous paths solely for the sake of Helga's whereabouts. He had to gather worthwhile information along the way too.
Tapping his chin thoughtfully with his finger, he muttered to himself.
"Hmm... This could be interesting."
A traveler who left one village had completely disappeared before reaching the next one. It was possible that someone in the second village was lying. Or maybe the traveler had met with bandits or been eaten by a wild animal. They could have gotten lost or just taken a different path.
The truth didn't matter.
No one wanted the perfect truth anyway.
What people wanted was a compelling story—something with just enough truth, sprinkled with the right amount of intrigue.
Providing that was Max's job.
"The travelers were a young man and woman, right...? Hmm, let's say the man was killed, and the woman was hidden by someone in the village. The woman should be a tragic beauty, and the man, should he be portrayed as a handsome youth or a rugged type?"
Max was making up the details at this point, but truthfully, it wasn't entirely a lie.
In these remote regions, travelers—people who could disappear without anyone noticing—often became easy targets for banditry. Sometimes ordinary villagers turned into thieves the moment the opportunity arose. Not all places were like that, but the more isolated the village, the more often it happened.
And, in this case, if Max's hunch was correct, that was likely what had happened.
He meticulously noted down every detail about the travelers to make the story feel more real, and then stood up.
"It's probably best to gather more information in the nearby town. Perhaps someone wealthy is searching for these travelers."
Fortunately, there were people in the nearby city that Max could use as informants. If luck was on his side, someone might know the travelers, turning this into a decent opportunity. Even if not, he might still find something to lend more credibility to the story.
Something about the travelers gave the impression they were running from something. It made Max hopeful this could lead to something big.
"If only Helga would just show up, I wouldn't need to bother with any of this," he sighed as he hurried along the path.
By the time Max reached the next village, the sun was almost set.
He looked up at the high wooden walls.
It had been a long time since he last visited, and it seemed not much had changed.
The village still had impressive outer walls—walls that far surpassed the condition of the buildings inside.
Thinking back to his first time in this village brought a smile to his lips.
He had nearly been killed then.
This village was exactly the kind of place that could transform into a bandit's den depending on the circumstances.
The main gate was slightly ajar.
He stepped through and began walking deeper into the village.
"... Something's not right."
He had reached a point where he could see the houses, but there were no people in sight.
Even in small villages like this, people usually noticed strangers right away.
Something was off.
A sense of unease filled him, and he placed his hand on the hilt of the dagger at his side.
He walked past several houses, moving deeper into the village, until he finally spotted a group of people in the distance.
They were wearing clothes not usually worn in a village like this.
Some of them wore hats.
"A funeral?"
In a village like this, clothing like that was usually worn only for weddings or funerals.
And from the somber expressions, it was unlikely to be a wedding.
Now that he thought about it, he remembered a gate on the opposite side of the village that led to the communal graveyard.
The village chief recognized Max and raised his hand.
Max quickly approached, and the village chief—who looked older than he remembered—spoke first.
"It's been a while."
"Hello, Chief. I see there was a funeral."
"... Ah, yes."
Sensing something in the chief's tone, Max glanced around at the villagers.
Several women were shaking with sobs.
'But they don't seem to be direct family.'
It seemed more than one person had died.
Max's mind whirled, thoughts coming as fast as lightning.
Ah, this is something big.
His instincts told him so.
Swallowing, Max brought back the images he had seen as he entered the village.
The barn on the outskirts had been damaged. And on the ground… what looked like bloodstains.
'It wasn't the lord's men or bandits. If it were, the village wouldn't be standing as it is.'
Max wetted his lips and spoke.
"What happened here?"
"…"
"You know who I am. As I've said before, I don't care what this village does. What I care about are unique events or tragic stories."
Max had never explicitly stated what he wanted, neither here nor elsewhere. If people knew what he sought, they might distort information or demand outrageous sums.
"Ah, come to think of it, I heard the lord around here is preparing to hunt down some bandits. Not just any bandits—specifically targeting those preying on travelers."
"Is that true?"
The village chief looked startled.
Max smiled slyly, pulling out a few coins from his pocket.
"Well, what do you think? How about exchanging information and making a little profit on the side?"
Coins might not be much in the city, but out here, they had a different value.
There were many households where an entire year's income didn't exceed twenty silver coins. Even a traveler's few belongings could be worth risking everything for.
Max smiled.
"I'll hear other sources from nearby villages as well, so don't bother lying to me."
"Of course, of course. I remember well from before," the chief said nervously, beginning to talk.
"You, too—no tricks, now. Did you really hear that from the lord?"
"Yes, it's true."
"The savage came through. From the Demon Forest, hunting, it seems. Some fools saw what he had and decided to rob him without telling me first. They didn't know how dangerous barbarians are, and… well… now five of them are dead."
A barbarian...
It could be Helga, or it might not.
But even if it wasn't, this story could still make for a profitable tale.
Max barely managed to suppress a smile, instead furrowing his brow.
"Are you sure it was a barbarian? And from the Demon Forest, no less… It's rare for barbarians to hunt there, though it does happen occasionally."
"It's true. He had a white fox pelt. You'd never find that anywhere around here. I wouldn't mistake something like that. I've lived around here long enough to recognize a beast from the Demon Forest, even if it's just a tuft of fur from a distance."
"How could you tell he was a barbarian? Are you sure it wasn't just a misunderstanding?"
The chief clicked his tongue, exasperated.
"You could tell just by looking at his build. The man was like four of me put together, and twice as tall. No way someone like that was from Arenon. No one looks like that."
"He could've been from another country. Give me more details."
Seeing Max's interest, the chief held out his hand, asking for more money.
Max placed a coin in his palm, but he didn't move.
Another coin, and another—five in total, and finally the chief began to speak again.
Greedy old man.
"His hair was very unusual—almost white, but golden. It shimmered in the torchlight, very pretty."
So, not Helga, then.
A bit disappointing.
Helga's hair had been a very pale brown, almost light enough to appear blond in sunlight.
Seeing Max's disinterested expression, the chief hurried to add more.
"It was a very peculiar color. His face was rugged, but his hair was beautiful—like it was made of silver… Ah, and his eyes were red."
What?
The words escaped his mouth before he could think.
Red eyes?
"Are you sure? You didn't mistake it in the dark?"
Max asked, and the chief nodded repeatedly.
"I'm sure. It was dark, but I saw him by torchlight. It wasn't a normal color—it was red. Quite the story, isn't it?"
"Tell me more."
Max gave the chief a few more coins, squeezing out every detail about the barbarian's appearance.
The contours of his face, the thickness of his arms, his body circumference.
Max made the chief recall everything he could.
Once there was nothing more to say, the chief spoke again, anxiously.
"Now, tell me about the lord. What's this about bandit hunting?"
"Some years ago, a nobleman went missing around here. It's caused a stir. They need to find the culprit. And apparently, there's a suspicion that the person responsible might have ties to the lord. It could even be the lord himself. So, they're trying to pin it on some bandits to cover it up."
"Then, it has nothing to do with us, right?"
The chief's face twisted, realizing he had been tricked.
Max shook his head solemnly.
"Not quite. If they don't find the right scapegoat, the lord might just create one. It would be easiest to label a village like this as a bandit den. It's not like places like this never engage in such activities."
"What… what did you say?"
The chief's face turned pale, and Max shrugged.
"Bribe the official. When a scapegoat is needed, the one to choose it will be the official who knows these parts well."
"Alright, Max. Thanks for the advice."
The chief, still looking pale, turned and walked off to talk with the village men.
Left alone, Max covered his mouth with his hand.
His facial muscles were relaxing, and laughter was on the verge of spilling out.
'Platinum blonde hair and red eyes?'
There was no one in this world with red eyes.
It must have been violet eyes that looked red under the right angle of torchlight.
Among those who had seen members of the royal family or the Duke's household, there were a few who'd described the eyes as red.
A man with platinum blonde hair and violet eyes, who looked just like Helga.
There was only one explanation.
'He's the son of Helga and Klaus.'
Max looked up at the sky, unable to contain his excitement.
How much would the Duke pay for this information?
What if he took it to the assassin's guild or those who held grudges against Helga?
What about selling it to the news publishers?
Good heavens.
This wasn't just a jackpot—it was the ultimate jackpot.
"Kuhuhuhu… ahahahaha."
A strange laugh escaped his mouth, echoing in the air.
***
"Finally, a city."
At last, I would get to see what a real human settlement was like.
Seeing the distant castle walls, I mumbled to myself, feeling overwhelmed with emotion.
Following the directions the old man had given me, I had passed through several villages.
At first, every village filled me with excitement, and I would eagerly stay the night there. But eventually, I started camping outside even if I saw a village ahead.
Why?
Because every single time I stopped at a village, they would make me sleep in a barn.
Some took a little money, others didn't, but each barn was filthy, covered in animal dung, and crawling with lice or fleas or some other vermin.
Once, while lying on a pile of straw, a rat crawled out from underneath me.
Sorry, but I was someone raised in a relatively proper home—sure, I almost died a few times because of Mother, but the place was clean, at least.
Before this journey, I never realized how clean and sanitary our home in the forest was. I could now give you a hundred examples of why that was true.
With my memories of Earth intact, these barns were unbearable.
Sleeping under the stars was preferable.
"But surely the city will be different."
Surely there would be a clean bed and good food.
With hopeful anticipation, I began walking towards the city that appeared as a small dot in the distance.