The day of departure was drawing closer, but Ren wasn’t spending his ti idly. Instead, he had ramped up his activities as the city’s "cleaner," operating from the shadows.
Every night, he hunted down bandits, robbers, and criminals who had long plagued society. However, he never asked for paynt from the townspeople or the governnt—for him, his reward had already been paid by the "vermin" themselves.
Dressed in all black with his signature skull mask, he moved under the cover of darkness, eliminating his targets without rcy. It didn’t take long for his na to spread throughout the city. The townspeople started calling him "Black Death," a ghostly figure who only appeared at night to wipe out cri completely.
Technically, Ren could have claid bounties for his work if he reported to the guild. But he chose not to. The rewards for turning in wanted criminals were decent, but if he handed them over to the guild, all stolen goods would be confiscated as evidence.
So, he took a more "independent" approach. He let the bounties remain unclaid while securing the gold, weapons, and valuables from the bandits he eliminated.
So might call it unfair. But for Ren, it was simply efficient.
The money he took wasn’t just stashed away or wasted on luxury. Instead, he invested it in sothing more important—his own future.
With a steady cash flow, he could speed up his projects, purchase more materials, and perfect his vehicle and preparations for the long journey ahead.
Yet, despite his efforts to remain a mystery, people were beginning to question the true identity of Black Death.
anwhile, Wendy strolled through Vermont’s bustling marketplace, carrying a basket filled with fresh ingredients. Ren had invited her to his ho tonight—not for a casual visit, but for a farewell gathering.
Being one of Ren’s only friends in this city, aside from Kiriya, Wendy felt she had to send him off properly. Not with tears or sadness, but with a night worth rembering. That was why Ren had decided to hold a small party before his departure.
Along with buying food, Wendy also wanted to get him a farewell gift. After browsing through various souvenir stalls, she finally settled on a small accessory—a keychain featuring Vermont’s signature emblem. It was shaped like a miniature enchanted sword, crafted by one of the city’s finest artisans.
(I hope he likes it...) Wendy clutched the keychain tightly, a small smile forming as she imagined Ren’s reaction when he received it.
However, as she made her way to another stall, a conversation nearby caught her attention.
"Hey, did you hear? Black Death showed up again last night!"
"Yeah! I heard he wiped out a bandit group in the northern forest. They say no one survived!"
Wendy paused mid-step, her ears picking up every word from the two n chatting near a vegetable stand.
"I don’t know if he’s human or not, but damn... that guy moves like a demon in the dark!" one man whispered, as if afraid that the figure they spoke of would suddenly appear behind them.
"Exactly! And the creepiest part? He never collects the bounties from the guild. It’s like he’s just hunting for fun!" the other man added, his tone dramatic.
Wendy furrowed her brows.
(Black Death, huh... The rumors about him have been spreading more and more lately.)
A mysterious figure who only appeared at night, rcilessly eliminating bandits, leaving no survivors. No one knew his true identity, but everyone agreed that his presence had struck fear into the hearts of criminals.
But sothing about this story felt... familiar.
(Wait... no way... Right?)
She quickly shook her head, pushing the thought away. There was no proof that Black Death and Ren were the sa person. But if they were...
(I really need to talk to him later.)
With a growing sense of unease, Wendy resud her shopping, hoping that this was all just a coincidence.
When she finally arrived at Ren’s house—Strom’s house, as she knew it—the first thing that greeted her was the mouthwatering aroma of freshly cooked food. As she stepped inside, the sight before her caught her off guard.
In the small kitchen, Ren was busy preparing sothing, his sleeves rolled up and his expression focused. Wendy crossed her arms, leaning against the doorway with a playful pout.
"Hey, I thought I was the one in charge of cooking?" she teased.
Ren glanced at her briefly before returning to his work, unbothered.
"I’m just making one dish. The rest is still up to you," he replied casually.
Curious, Wendy stepped closer. From what she could see, Ren was flattening out a thin layer of dough on the counter, carefully sprinkling various ingredients on top.
"What’s this?" she asked, eyeing the unfamiliar-looking dish.
Ren smirked, seeming satisfied with his work.
"Pizza."
Wendy blinked.
"Pizza...? I’ve never heard of that before."
Ren let out a small chuckle and lifted the prepared dish onto a tray, sliding it into his custom-made oven. With a soft click, he closed the oven door.
"Of course you haven’t. It’s a dish from my hotown," he said nonchalantly, wiping his hands on a cloth.
Wendy raised a brow, placing her hands on her hips.
"Your hotown?" she asked, studying Ren’s face with growing curiosity. "You’ve never told about that before."
Ren gave a small, knowing smile but didn’t answer right away. Instead, he walked over to the table, tidying up the leftover ingredients.
"Well, I’m not the type to talk about my past much," he admitted, his voice light but unreadable. "But this dish... it’s one of my favorites from when I was a kid."
Wendy observed his expression, sensing sothing different. This wasn’t just about food—there was nostalgia in his voice.
"Huh... Now I’m even more curious," she said with a grin. "I just hope it tastes as good as your hotown’s reputation."
Ren let out a quiet laugh and leaned against the table. That night, as they cooked and joked around, they forgot—if only for a mont—that this was their farewell gathering.
Reviews
All reviews (0)