"Ugh… I'm being toyed with."
Mochi groaned, finally catching her breath as they trudged through the alley's grime. The dust-choked air stung her nostrils—still better than the Guildmaster's suffocating presence.
If not for that infuriating woman's dismissive wave, she'd have abandoned this pathetic sidequest. A bronze coin? Pathetic.
100 bronze = 1 silver. 100 silver = 1 gold. Her efficiency-starved brain recoiled.
"Big Sister…" The child tugged her sleeve. "You keep looking away. Do you hate me?"
Guilt—the world's most potent poison—lanced through Mochi. Her hand moved on its own, ruffling the girl's hair. "Not you. Just… a tall woman with a smile that makes me want to stab things."
Odd. She hadn't felt fear back there, not even with those fingers at her throat. The child's coarse hair under her fingertips, those wide eyes—a sanctuary compared to the Guildmaster's abyssal gaze.
Mochi exhaled sharply, masking the fire in her lungs.
"System. Status."
Ah. So that's why breathing hurts. She pressed a hand to her ribs, willing the burn to subside.
"System. List all healing methods in this mod."
In Valiant Thief, health potions, bandages, food, and sleep were the only ways to recover HP—without the mod.
<...computing...>
"What about level-ups?" Mochi squinted, her grip tightening on the child's hair. "Allocating Skill Points—does it restore HP?"
Like Groundrim. One point = +10 HP, full recovery.
<...computing...>
Mochi dug her nail into the child's scalp, her smile warped under false gentleness. "Do your job. You nearly got my neck snapped with those shitty dialogue options."
One day, she'd tear the thorns out of this System's core.
"Sister...it hurts..."
"Ah." Mochi froze. "Sorry."
For now—"Skill Tree. Don't fuck this up."
- Blood-sync: 0/100
- Curses: 0/100
- Daggerfall: 12/100
- Knight: 7/100
- Shadow-hunting: 9/100
- Sneak: 4/100
- Speechcraft: 11/100
- Witchcraft: 0/100
Just like Groundrim. Mochi tapped each option. Veins of blood connected symbols—a cauldron for Witchcraft, a skull for Curses—starred perks glowing within.
Her finger hovered over the first
[Perk Acquired:]
: -50% damage taken at full HP. (obtainable upon Knight 0)
Done. Mochi pinched the child's cheek as her lungs knitted themselves—faster than a stain wiped away.
Free high-tier potions. She'd save the rest for emergencies.
And this perk? A cheat with full-heal items. 100 HP to halve damage? No explanation needed.
"System. These numbers increase based on actions tied to each tree, right?" She pointed at
Should I get slapped more often? Mochi's neck craned like a fetish uncovered. "Report Skill Tree progress in real-time during quests."
<...loading...>
One last irritation. "System." She jabbed at
<...Host, it allows you to deal 50% more damage to the Undead.>
"I can read just fine, thank you." Mochi grunted. "What I'm saying is that there are no Undead in this game."
No lore. No skeletons. Just thieves, cults, and of course, last-minute dollarstore demons.
Yet the System included it. Meaning—
"You little fuck—"
The child blinked at Mochi's trembling rage.
The child pitied her—another madwoman talking to the air, just like usual in the outskirt.
Mochi massaged her temple as she eyed the child who's pitying her. "Kid. I pray you never get isekai'd with a useless System.
"What's isekai, Sister?" The child tilted her head, sympathy narrowing into curiosity.
Mochi cracked her freshly healed knuckles—each pop a reminder of the Guildmaster's welcome. "Picture getting shipped to a cult. Except instead of sacrificing you to some fake god, they make you work unpaid overtime."
The child nodded slowly. Cults were beyond her dirt-road worldview.
"That purple-haired woman," Mochi pressed, ignoring the System's flickering protests in her periphery, "you've never seen her before?"
"Never!" The girl's arm shot up like a salute. "She's the prettiest lady ever!"
Mochi's thumb brushed her own lips—no pain left, just phantom heat. Damn it.
"Fuck your spoilers," she muttered. Even if this was a free mod, she'd demand a refund. At least paid labor came with a paycheck.
———————-
Beggars snored against alley walls, their stench clotting the air. Mochi yanked the child closer, her glare sharper than the knives those vagrants clutched in their sleep.
From the Guildmaster's hideout to these slums, danger prowled—but Mochi's speedrunner instincts mapped every escape route. She smirked, veering sharply left. Take the main road, and some mugger loses his guts in front of a kid. Pass.
"Thank you, kind sister..."
Mochi's grip tightened. Sentiment was a luxury she couldn't afford. Not with the Guildmaster's golden eyes still haunting her. Not with the System's thorns coiled around her choices.
And definitely not when every shadow smelled like blood and unfinished business.
The street had emptied—no more beggars on sleep mats, no muggers lurking with knives. Mochi turned a corner, stopping before a door with rotten wood and a broken handle. The only sign this was a home was the mud-caked rooftop.
She released the child's trembling hand. "Welcome home, kid."
The girl's eyes welled up. "Thank you, Big Sister!"
"Don't mention it." Mochi scanned the shadows—no pursuers, no glint of purple silk. "Knock. Your mother's probably sick with worry."
The door creaked open. Not the blank stare of brainwashing, but genuine shock. Had Mochi misjudged the Guildmaster's cruelty?
"Mother!" The child launched into the woman's arms.
"Rose...! I'm so sorry I lost you—" The mother's voice cracked as she clung to her daughter.
Keep crying and you'll attract real muggers. Mochi's smirk faltered as their sobs filled the street. Her hand drifted to her own chest. Why was her heartbeat so loud?
She needed to leave before the meter climbed higher—before her fingers twitched toward their throats. But the way they embraced under the moonlight...
Funny. The only arms waiting for Mochi belonged to a tombstone.
"Benefactor—!"
"Don't lose her again." Mochi waved without turning, her footsteps heavy as she fled the scene.
————-
The alley swallowed her whole as Mochi huddled to herself.
Red veins spiderwebbed across her vision. "Damn this... this hunger," she gasped, though it wasn't for blood—just a hollow, gnawing rush.
"System. Did you forget something?"
"Tch. Even the mod half-asses sidequests." She slumped against the wall.
A normal person might grieve. Rest. But speedrunners don't pause.
"System. Buy
The vial materialized in her palm, swirling with iridescent dust. "No pain?"
Good. She uncorked it—then hesitated.
This would erase the last trace of her parents—the nose she'd inherited, the sleepy eyes her mother used to tease. No photos here to remember them by. Just her face.
Her grin returned, sharp as shattered glass. Memories matter. Flesh is just pixels.
She drank.
No pain. Only the sickening crunch of bones reshaping—cheekbones narrowing, hair darkening to ink, pupils dilating green. Even her stature shrank.
The vial shattered on the cobblestones. In the dirty puddle, a stranger stared back.
No pain. Of course not. The universe wouldn't grant her even that penance.
"Now then." She pushed off the wall, rolling her new shoulders. "Let's begin."
The moon hung low as she stepped into the street—a ghost with her parents' memories, and a face no bounty poster would ever recognize.
----------------
"Found her yet?"
The squeaky voice clashed with its venom. If Baron Aldric Veyne had known his mansion would swarm with soldiers, he might've hidden his ledgers.
Too late.
Captain Haelmira's boot nudged the corpse by the window—throat slit, eyes frozen in surprise. Aldric Veyne, in all his glory.
"No... not yet, Miss Oathbane," stammered the guard.
"Of fucking course," the blonde knight muttered. Her gauntlet creaked as she clenched it.
"Draft the perpetrator's likeness. 100,000 gold bounty—every guild."
The guard paled. "Even... the Thief Guild?"
Haelmira's smile could flay skin. "Especially those rats."
"And the... charges?"
Round blue eyes pinned him like a butterfly.
"The Third Prince accidentally died here tonight." Her whisper slithered through the hall. "So for now? Charge her for the murder of Adric Veyne, and his 5 families' deaths."