No to Being the Suffering Heroine!

“I shouldn’t have read it….”

Looking back, it was an extremely regrettable situation.

Who would have thought that just being a fan of ‘Hoopee’s House’ novels would lead me to possess the character in the story responsible for all the misery? Is that even possible?

If I had known this would happen, I would have kept reading only dragon possession stories. At least there would be fewer chances of suffering with those.

“Um? What did you say?”

John, slightly sulking from my rejection of his goodwill, tilted his head and spoke up again. Always so nosy.

“Nothing. Just talking to myself. Don’t worry and go take a break.”

I gave a somewhat cold response, mumbling it through my mask, then pulled out the large sword I had planted in the ground and began wiping the blade with a cloth.

A silent command to not talk to me anymore.

“Oh… right.”

Even a clueless country boy like John seemed to understand this much, as he clicked his tongue quietly but didn’t continue to pester me.

It was fortunate for both him and me.

Returning quietly to the other party members, John plopped down on the ground and started chatting with them while I continued to silently clean my sword.

Until all the goblin blood and fat stuck to it was wiped away.

A tedious but necessary task.

Unless it was a magic-engraved sword, even a regular iron sword would get stuck and clunky if not properly maintained, leaving you vulnerable to enemies if it suddenly failed during battle.

When fightin’, most people end up panicking and dying in such situations.

Knowing that the longevity of fools who don’t realize the importance of their gear is often short-lived.

◆◆

About ten minutes must have passed.

“Ahem, I think everyone has rested enough, so let’s get moving.”

Hans, who had been chatting with the other two party members for a while, cleared his throat and stood up.

“Hey, was it Hilde? You’ve rested enough too, right? Let’s go. The sun’s gonna set soon.”

Since when did we start using informal speech?

Is he trying to show off his elder status? As a fellow iron-tier adventurer, it wasn’t a great look for him to be barking orders like that.

“Sure. Let’s go.”

I nodded vaguely and got to my feet.

It wouldn’t make a difference if I told him to watch his tone. He wouldn’t listen anyway, and I didn’t want to waste time over that now that the request was completed.

Clank. Clang.

The metal sounds of my shoulder and breastplate echoed as I moved.

Unlike the other three adventurers, who were barely dressed in armor that barely qualified as protection, I wore a fine set of plate armor crafted from quality steel.

I had managed to buy this armor with the money I got from selling the one I wore when I possessed this body—it was practically my lifeline.

Sure, the previous armor was several times better, so selling it was a loss… but I had no choice.

Walking around in that armor would be similar to shouting my identity from the rooftops, and I couldn’t risk that.

If it were to be revealed that I, ‘Hilde,’ was an adventurer, dangers far more threatening than any goblin would come knocking.

The danger that had made me drop everything and flee the moment I realized the truth of this world.

The threat of the fate that awaited the heroine of ‘Hoopee’s House.’

◆◆

After retracing our steps through the dungeon for about an hour.

I walked at the front next to Hans, who was carrying a shield as a knight should.

Our archer, Jamie, leisurely whistled behind us, while John kept guard at the rear, ready for any potential ambush.

It was Hans’s suggestion to have the frontline protect the ranged attackers.

Given his age, he must have had a lot of experience demolishing dungeons. It was a textbook placement.

A common mistake for novice adventurers is to line up all their warriors in the front, only to be wiped out by a sudden rear ambush.

To prevent such scenarios, it was critical to place a nimble warrior like Hans at the back with the party.

If foes charged straight at us, he could quickly join the frontline, and if rear enemies showed up, he could easily pivot and protect the cleric, mage, or archer.

In other words, our current formation was the most effective for dungeon expeditions.

Craaaash!

…It was also effective for turning party members into ‘loot.’

“F*ck.”

An expletive slipped out as I swung my left arm back, flinging the large sword I gripped toward the enemy ahead of me.

Kling!

The sound of metal clashing reverberated against the dungeon walls.

A heavy impact thudded against my armored arm, and the one-handed sword aimed at my legs was deflected off by my large sword, sending a slight vibration through my fingertips.

“You blocked it?!”

“Damn it, did he notice?!”

The mixture of shock and curses buzzed around my ears. I grimaced deeply, scanning the sudden wave of enemies who ambushed us through the visor of my helmet.

“Wait, not a shield but… an arm?!”

As Jamie hastily pulled out a new arrow, he widened the distance, seemingly shocked by how blindly I deflected his attack.

“You should have shot their legs, legs!”

Hans, who charged forward with his sword drawn, had his face twisted in pain, as if his grip was completely numb.

His already ugly face was crumpled, almost resembling those forest-dwelling scavengers involved in human trafficking and collection.

Bunch of worthless scum.

“Seeing how smooth your moves are, you must’ve done this a few times before, huh? I had a feeling you looked like thieves from the start.”

I had no reason to treat them with respect anymore.

Judging by appearance alone? Give me a break; they fit the stereotype of obnoxious thugs.

The personnel at the Request Office exploit the lives of lower-tier adventurers by keeping an eye on them, knowing all the while that they’ll murder their party members during a solo dungeon dive and then report them as ‘deceased.’

It was the kind of human muck you encounter frequently while foolishly posing as a lower-tier adventurer.

Of course, the Request Office staff weren’t complete morons either; they tended to suspect those adventurers who frequently lost party members of being thieves and kept an eye on them…

But from what I could see, they didn’t take it seriously.

With the frequency of deaths, you might expect them to react, but when it was happening about one out of ten times, they often let it slide.

Thanks to that, riffraff like this were a dime a dozen among lower-tier adventurers.

“Did I look that easy a target?”

Especially for me, I seemed to attract these kinds of lowlifes pretty often. Almost every three days.

Maybe it was because I wore an unfairly high-grade armor for my rank? Or perhaps they figured that even though I wore a helmet, I was unmistakably a beauty?

…It could easily be both. Maybe from a raider’s point of view, it was like getting two for the price of one.

Anyway, now that the ambush had failed, all that was left was a brawl.

“Well, now that it’s come to this…!”

“Bring it on!”

I gripped my large sword with both hands and swung it with intense malice at Hans, who was pushing forward with his bent shield.

Clang!

Splinters flew around as my blade scraped harshly along his shield.

I countered Hans’s incoming one-handed sword with my gauntlet’s arm while hastily dodging the second arrow aimed at my feet.

Thud!

The stray arrow hit the dungeon wall, leaving scratches as it ricocheted off.

“Damn, you’re quick like a rat…!”

“Well, let’s see if you can keep up!”

The fight intensified.

Thanks to the torches, the reddish gleam of the blade sliced through the air, and the clear sounds of metal against metal echoed chaotically mingled with curses.

◆◆

“Kuhak…!”

Before long, Hans staggered back, letting out a hoarse scream.

He clutched his left arm, which had a gaping wound, blood oozing from it.

“Is that it? You both came at me and ended up like this.”

It was a clear disadvantage. It was essentially a forgone conclusion.

As I pressed down the sharp edge of my large sword against his shield, it pierced through his shabby chain mail like paper, tearing through the muscle and bone beneath without mercy.

Had it not been for Jamie’s arrow that had arrived just in time, I could have chopped off his arm entirely… but well, this was good enough.

Now that the bone was cut, he’d never swing that shield again.

“Guess that’s why you resorted to preying on other adventurers. How did you think you could take my armor? Did you plan to search through corpses?”

The mockery seemed to strike a nerve.

“Damn it…! John! Jooooohn! What the hell are you doing? Don’t just stand there, help me!”

Gritting his teeth and glaring at me, Hans whirled around to shout furiously at John.

“Oh, yes, right!”

Surprised by the sudden blade clash, John, who had been standing there dopey, snapped back to reality and nodded, rushing toward me.

“Ha.”

Was that country bumpkin part of the same group?

No, judging by his previous dazed demeanor, he likely wasn’t from the start.

If so, the idea of ambushing me and robbing me must have come up during our little break just earlier.

Yeah, it seemed like it.

Just like those three brothers in the tavern, sharing a drink while scheming to share my body, they had lured him into their little scheme.

In other words, guilty as charged.

They might as well have gone overboard for thinking they could rob me just for not eating their offered food.

“What the hell?!”

Suddenly charging in, John yelled like the good country boy he was and swung his axe like he was chopping wood toward me.

“Now’s the chance! Push onward!”

Hans and Jamie swung their weapons and fired arrows, as if it were the perfect moment.

It looked just like the old saying about three against one.

“Pathetic,” I sighed lightly, shifting my grip back on the sword.

I had no tension whatsoever.

They weren’t really a trio. Just a loser and an arm cripple. Combined, they barely made up one decent warrior.

They weren’t three anymore. They were still two.

And…

The number two is a symbol of defeat. The truth of this world had bestowed undeniable confidence in me as the man who had been defeated thrice by the same strategy.

There was no way I would lose.

Like a torrential downpour, blades flew, letting loose a storm of blood.

---