The Lazy Boy Is, In Fact, the Strongest and Most Brutal Assassin. - Chapter 8: A Man Who Is Utterly Useless.

A Man Who Is Utterly Useless.

As the evening progressed peacefully, without any sign of the yakuza intruding, Shia set off to work at a bar, with Il accompanying her.

While Il sipped on cheap liquor in a corner of the shabby tavern, he watched Shia diligently serving customers. It was only this year that he had begun to acquire a taste for alcohol, and as someone who wasn’t particularly strong with drink, the quickly intoxicating cheap liquor was quite harsh on him.

He alternated between sips of alcohol and water, a routine that caught the bar owner’s amused gaze, as if he had stumbled upon an entertaining spectacle.

When working, Shia shed her usual timid demeanor, skillfully handling the scruffy day laborers while occasionally engaging in cheerful conversation.

This was what one might refer to as a “barmaid.” Amidst the weary men, she radiated a vibrant energy.

“Hey, aren’t you supposed to be working? Why are you drinking?”

Il, lazily resting his chin on his hand as he watched Shia, suddenly heard a woman’s voice behind him. Turning around, he found the displeased expression of the dancer from the previous day—Rimrim, if he remembered correctly.

“Hey there, Pom-Pom.”

“That’s not a name that sounds particularly lively! You’re actually going to protect Shia, right?”

“Well, I’ll do my best.”

“Honestly, you’re so unreliable,” she replied.

“Unreliable? What would make me seem dependable, then? Should I wrap Shia in packaging and cradle her carefully like a prized possession? She’d end up getting warm to the touch.”

“I don’t even understand what you’re trying to say.”

“What a coincidence. I’m equally perplexed.”

For a moment, Rimrim wore a confused expression, but upon realizing he was teasing her, her gaze sharpened with irritation.

Il, attempting to find amusement in her, suddenly furrowed his brow. He had noticed the sound of many footsteps approaching just outside the tavern.

“Hey, Shia!”

Il beckoned to Shia, whispering as she hurried over.

“Hide behind me.”

Shia nodded, her expression tense at Il’s unusual demeanor. In the next moment, the door to the tavern was kicked open violently, and a group of rough-looking men stormed inside.

The previous clamor was silenced as if it were a lie; the scruffy patrons froze in place, their drinking postures unmoving. An oppressive silence, unfitting for a tavern where one could get thoroughly intoxicated with just ten copper coins, descended upon the room.

One of the men, with an ugly, dog-like face, bellowed, “Hey! Where is Ward’s daughter?”

The uncertainty in his voice arose from the unfamiliar sight before him.

What the men saw was Il, hiding Shia behind him, desperately pushing Rimrim, who was protesting, in front of the men.

“Wait a minute! You’re a man; you should go up front! Why are you using me as a shield?” Rimrim exclaimed.

“Shut up! Your protection isn’t part of my job. Now, be our shield and scatter! I’ll protect Shia as promised, just buy us some time to escape, you damn bitch!”

The sight of the despicable man who had stepped forward left the others momentarily speechless.

“Who are you calling a bitch! I’m still a proper virgin, you know!” Rimrim retorted.

“Haha! This late bloomer is boasting about not being able to find a man to hold her!” one of the men mocked.

“I’m not late at all! I just turned twenty!”

“What? Seriously… You idiot, a woman is considered late after turning eighteen!”

“How can you call a woman an idiot? Are you out of your mind?”

“The one calling you an idiot is the real idiot!”

“You were the one who said it first!”

“I-Il, Rim-san, could you both calm down for a bit…”

The argument between Rimrim and Il, resembling a low-level squabble akin to that of children, prompted a teary-eyed Shia to peek her face out anxiously. However, her feeble attempt at mediation was completely ignored by the two who continued their heated exchange, hurling insults of “fool” and “idiot” at each other. Just then—

“Can you two stop your silly bickering already?!”

A high-pitched voice tinged with irritation rose from the back of the yakuza group, where the sheer absurdity of the situation had left them momentarily dumbfounded.

The two stopped their argument instinctively, turning to the source of the voice, and caught sight of Hiluluk stepping forward, roughly pushing aside the men in front of him.

With long hair slicked back, thin, cruel lips, unhealthily gaunt pale cheeks, and single-lidded, sharp eyes, his appearance left no room for doubt regarding his nickname, “Snake Serpent.” Upon closer inspection, he certainly exuded an extraordinary level of intimidation befitting such a disquieting title.

(Oh, he’s scary… this guy)

Il muttered inwardly, feeling the weight of Hiluluk’s presence.

“What we’re after is just that lady over there,” Hiluluk said, turning his gaze toward Shia. At that moment, Shia stiffened in shock.

(I see, so this is what it feels like to be a frog caught in a snake’s gaze.)

While oddly convinced, Il turned to Hiluluk. He wanted to stay quiet, but it wasn’t as simple as just handing Shia over with a resigned “Alright, here you go.”

“Hiluluk-san, I have a question to ask if that’s alright?”

Glaring at him with those piercing, bulging eyes, Il instinctively shrank back.

“Hm? Oh, you’re that young one from Bodoin’s household… What do you want?”

“It seems this girl’s house is about to be sold, and she’ll have the money soon. Is there any way we can wait for the repayment until then?”

Hiluluk twisted his lips into a thin smile, mocking him.

(Tch… he’s looking down on me.)

Il clearly sensed the derision but wasn’t childish enough to lash out in anger.

“Oh, didn’t you know? That girl’s house is already mortgaged to another loan shark,” Hiluluk replied.

“What!?”

The exclamation came from Shia. Hiluluk momentarily wore a look of exasperation before adopting an exaggeratedly sympathetic expression.

“What’s this? You really didn’t know? That’s why you should sell that valuable ‘Dark Green Steel’ technique of yours. If you sell it to the guild, you can repay your debts to us—that would be good enough.”

“But even if you say that, I don’t know anything about the technique!”

“Surely your father left something behind? Toruk, wasn’t it? Your father’s disciple. A little intimidation, and he spilled everything. He said there’s a record of the technique left behind.”

“T-Toruk did? That can’t be true! I really don’t know anything!”

Desperately, Shia raised her voice. Hiluluk shrugged nonchalantly.

“If you’re going to play dumb, there’s no helping it. How about I give you a reason to talk?”

As Hiluluk snapped his fingers, the yakuza members approached with lewd grins plastered across their faces.

(What’s it going to be? Do I fight or do I run?)

Just as Il pondered this, chaos erupted.

“Ughhh!?”

One of the yakuza men, reaching for Shia, was suddenly sent flying sideways with tremendous force, letting out a sound reminiscent of a squashed frog as he crashed into the wall, taking a table and a frail old man with him.

A single man emerged to stand between Il’s group and the yakuza.

“What the hell! Who the hell are you?”

The man, who had suddenly intruded, cast a condescending glance at the yakuza before snorting softly in amusement.

“I’m nobody special… but your behavior is utterly unreasonable. If I had even a little skill, I’d want to step in and help.”

Watching this unfold, Rimrim smirked and threw a light comment over her shoulder to Il.

“Unlike you, he’s quite a handsome man.”

“Shut up; a man isn’t just about looks,” Il retorted.

Indeed, the man had an attractive appearance.

His short, fiery red hair was reminiscent of a Nederlander, and his gentle eyes, high nose, and overall well-proportioned face made him quite striking. Though he was slender, there was nothing weak about him.

A gladius, about fifty centimeters in blade length, hung at his waist, and a travel backpack lay at his feet, indicating he was a wandering swordsman.

“Your uselessness isn’t just skin-deep, you know,” Rimrim added.

“I might be a waste inside, but at least I’m not that bad on the outside,” Il shot back.

“Oh, so you admit that you’re a waste inside….”