#003. The Mind Manipulator is Too Kind (3)

#003. The Mind Manipulator is Too Kind (3)

Mother Teresa of Compassion.

A week had already passed since she had been called by that name, a name that made her insides twist at the very sound of it.

Teresa dragged the children to the worksite again today.

The tasks were always the most dirty and bothersome duties that remained.

But, at the same time, they were duties that paid.

The originally recommended party size was four.

Trying to fulfill the quota of a four-person request alone was, of course, no easy task.

But though she might be damaged, she wasn’t worthless; the skills she had built up in the past hadn’t completely disappeared.

‘Before meeting that man, it was always like this.’

She was always full of confidence and self-assured.

A promising young woman with a bright future.

It only took two betrayals from a lover she believed would be forever for her to fall to the level of a child abuser in the back alleys.

Die.

Just die.

Filled with murderous intent that could have torn that loathsome man in two, she cleaved a carapace beetle in half.

She didn’t care that the gushing green fluids seeped into her boots and gloves.

There was no better remedy to calm the throbbing head from the withdrawal than the excitement of bloody slaughter.

But the joy was fleeting.

The sense of liberation from reality soon vanished.

The sound of fragile hiccups pulled her back to reality.

Her eldest son, Ian.

Her younger daughter, Anna.

Children still too young to leave the village.

The fruits of a misguided love and the symbols of a failed life.

The hated man’s bloodline.

Yet, children she couldn’t bring herself to abandon.

Holding the timid second child’s hand, the fearless first pats their back, soothing them.

Those eyes of the first, so沉着沉着 like a seasoned knight who’s seen everything.

Those eyes bothered her.

The color was her husband’s sapphire, but the deep-seated weariness and disgust for reality reflected in them… that was entirely her own.

“You are a mother who cherishes her children more than anyone.”

Always spouting such brazen things.

That insolent brat.

She couldn’t even scold him for his bad manners, when she hadn’t taught him any.

‘Where did he learn such things?’

He’d carved a wooden sword himself, something she hadn’t taught him, and used it to hack away thick foliage and thorns, securing a path for himself and his younger sibling.

During breaks, he’d somehow weave thick vines into makeshift gauntlets, using them to clear obstacles.

‘Was that how he made ends meet while I neglected them?’

She knew.

For the past year, since the family’s money had run out.

That Ian had been taking odd jobs, earning money himself and contributing to the household.

And that made her even angrier.

Every time she felt that child’s resourcefulness.

It highlighted her own pathetic state.

Forcing her to constantly look back at her foolish past.

“Tsk.”

A wave of displeasure washed over her.

Teresa no longer released her rage by hurting herself.

Nor by abusing her children.

Monster.

The target she’d been commissioned to hunt.

She released it by parrying the weapons of the job-assigned monster, severing its tendons, twisting and breaking the head and torso of the monster as it crawled away.

*Crack. Crunch. Thud!*

Again.

The splattered fluids, sticky and foul, ruined her gauntlets and boots.

“Anna, cover your ears and close your eyes.”

“No wanna.”

Taking after the firstborn’s audacity, it seemed.

She glanced down at the resolute second child, no longer frightened and weeping, before scoffing at the cowering gaze.

*Scrub. Scrub. Scrub.*

This hunt had been a bit long, and she hadn’t even had time to rinse off.

The cold water turned her hands red, but the grime wouldn’t come off.

Annoyance flared.

Just as her hands began to lose all feeling.

The firstborn appeared, having gathered some leaves from somewhere, and mashed them with a rock, mixing the pulp into a small bowl of water.

Then, he offered it to her.

“What’s this?”

“If you grind this up, mix it with water, and apply it, it won’t be sticky.”

“Who told you that?”

“The lady next door.”

Fairy Lilac.

Even she knew of its existence.

A foraged material commonly used for s*xual purposes in the underbelly of society.

An item containing components that neutralized sticky substances.

That cleanup target included the aftermath of *that*.

Knowledge decidedly premature for a child.

Yet, the lady next door hadn’t hesitated to impart that knowledge.

The intention was infuriatingly obvious.

*Thwack.*

The eldest, grabbed by the collar, looked up with an impassive face.

A vacant expression that suggested he had no idea what he’d gotten mixed up in.

There was even a hint of pleasure at being helpful, which only fueled her anger.

“Don’t ever get involved in anything like that again.”

“Okay.”

“Don’t even talk to ladies you don’t know.”

“That’s difficult.”

“Want a beating?”

“If it’s not a lady I don’t know, I don’t get fed.”

“I’ll earn money.”

Teresa fixed him with a fierce, predatory gaze.

“Never. Never take money from b*stards like that again.”

“I understand.”

His shirt had ridden up, pulled by her grip on his collar.

The sight of the eldest’s gaunt, exposed belly only added to her fury.

“Eat this.”

Bland, preserved rations.

Without a single complaint, the eldest split it in half, offering it to his sibling before consuming his own share.

She still didn’t like it.

Neither the way the eldest acted like a miniature adult.

Nor the fact that she was the one who’d made him that way.

* * *

This world, at least, was a game-based world.

Specifically, an Adventurer’s Guild management simulation game.

Ian the Brainwasher.

Using the protagonist’s abilities, he molded adventurers into obedient assets, increased the guild’s revenue to expand quest options, recruited new adventurers, and explored challenging dungeons, all in pursuit of growth.

Acquiring recipes for items that aided in adventures and sharing knowledge was a sub-content, a crafting aspect that was absolutely mandatory to conquer as an employee of the Adventurer’s Guild.

━━━

＜Fairy Lilac Lubricant＞

Description: Used to clean equipment, preventing monster blood, hides, and the like from causing contamination.

━━━

Effect: Prevents equipment durability degradation and removes equipment efficiency reduction debuffs.

It was clear this would be a boon for Mama.

Her gloves, her boots, all slick with the iridescent green ichor of insectoid monsters. I could hear the squelch with every step.

I’d saved two pieces of equipment from the scrap heap, hadn’t I?

But what did I get for it?

Not praise, but a furious scolding.

‘A rebellious Mama, through and through, I guess.’

As if her pride was wounded.

Mama unleashed a torrent of anger on me.

She forbade me from taking on any more work from the aunties.

A world where gender roles are reversed is the norm.

No work from women, no side hustle.

A misfortune for the struggling Theresa family.

‘Well… I can’t say I don’t understand, though.’

I’d had a similar experience before.

Back on Earth, when our family was strapped for cash.

My mother, when she was still alive, had told me when I was but a child:

She would ensure her son never had to work to survive.

Therefore, I didn’t need to take on that job of gluing eyes onto stuffed animals.

Back when we had a steadfast support.

Memories of poverty, of struggling to make ends meet.

How many years after that was it…

When Mama, feeling humiliated by the factory manager’s proposition, took her own life.

“…”

That’s what happened, right?

No harm in having such thoughts.

‘I have to help, even a little, so Mama doesn’t have to struggle alone.’

Once this job’s done.

Once I return to the back alleys.

I’ll quietly commit to taking on another odd job.

I made the decision in secret.

As soon as the opportunity arose, I went to the alley where I’d made the agreement with the adults.

“You’ve come. What information do you bring today?”

“A recipe for preserved provisions.”

A food preparation method that allows for long-term preservation, resistant to the toxic mana that easily corrodes things in monster hunting grounds.

A recipe that can be unlocked after working at inns or grocery stores more than four times.

Information valuable and practical, but the kind I sold because I couldn’t abandon Mother for the Adventurer’s Guild, or be away from home for long stretches. That’s just how it went.

“Ian, you’re such a bright one.”

“Thank you.”

“This old lady, working as an adventurer, I don’t know much, and it’s hard, but thanks to Ian, I don’t know how grateful I am.”

The woman kneaded my hand like she was working dough, showering me with thanks.

I was used to these tough-as-nails women, having seen plenty back on Earth, so I was just about to let it go, when she started patting my head.

“But Ian, how can you go around not eating properly? You’re nothing but skin and bones. Come to my place, and I’ll give you something delicious. Won’t you?”

“I’m alright.”

“Alright. If you need my help again, call for me anytime. I’ll prepare something for you to eat, Ian.”

The woman’s gaze was intense as she looked at the holes in my top and bottom, which were hardly more than rags.

She must be angry at Mother for not being able to dress me properly.

The kind woman added a few more coins as a bonus, which I tucked into the pouch strung on my necklace.

“Where’ve you been gallivanting?”

“Found money.”

“Don’t do useless things. Come along quietly.”

Having finished the request, Mother headed toward the blacksmith.

Today was the day she was determined to buy a proper iron sword instead of the rusty one.

*Smack!*

In a back alley, a rather portly woman slapped a scrawny girl across the cheek.

“Are you playing with me? This is all you could earn, and you’re whining about food? Do you think I’m a fool?”

“I-I’m sorry…”

“If you don’t want to get beat to hell, go out and squeeze money from other kids, pickpocket them, whatever it takes to get your share. I took in an orphan, so you have to earn your keep.”

The girl was shoved out, as if chased, into the light of the main street.

Only after the girl disappeared did the lowlife woman count the coins she brought, cackling.

“A free beer, I reckon.”

“…”

It was a common sight in the dirty, dangerous back alleys.

Mother’s gaze flickered momentarily to the pouch on my necklace.

I obediently unclasped the necklace and held out the pouch.

That portly woman’s slap involved flying.

Mother’s slap might separate my neck from my body.

The tavern.

And the pouch.

Mother glared at it all, then turned and walked away.

“Where are you going?”

“The inn.”

“Inns outside the alley are expensive.”

“I know.”

Mother glanced back at the blacksmith one last time, as if reluctant to leave.

Suddenly, I was lifted into the air.

My mother scooped up both Anna and me in her arms.

“It’s just that I loathe smelly back alleys, so be quiet and don’t complain.”

That day, we were given warm bathwater and washed ourselves clean.

A bed free from drafts and with a warm floor was an extra boon.

The next day, Mother wielded her rusted iron sword again.

And the day after that, the same.

The first things to be replaced were our tattered rags for clothes.