Hacking the Game Didn't Go as Intended [Part Two]

CHAPTER 243: Clean Clothes and a Full Tummy

The children gasped, whispering in awe.

"Magic..." Mina breathed.

One by one, plates, utensils, and serving dishes followed. A steaming stock pot of soup. A sizzling cast-iron pan with monstron stew. Another with fluffy rice. Baskets of fruit and freshly baked bread. The scents filled the air—savory, rich, and warm.

The children stood frozen, mouths open, hands at their sides.

"Well?" Daisuke said with a smirk. "What're you waiting for? Dig in."

"Is this real?" Theo whispered, trembling. "Is this really... happening to us?"

"It smells amazing," Alia said, her eyes glassy.

"It's too much," Ryo muttered. "We don't deserve this. We'll get punished."

Lio looked down, ashamed. "And it'd be rude to eat at the same table as the mistress..."

Daisuke exhaled slowly and met each of their gazes in turn. "This isn't a suggestion," he said. "That was an order." I honestly don't like bossing them around like this... but if it's the only way to pamper them...

The children fell silent. They bowed their heads and nodded. Hesitantly, they stepped forward. They took seats around the table, unsure, awkward, gripping utensils like foreign tools.

They dipped their spoons into the stew and brought trembling morsels to their lips. The moment the first bite hit their tongues... the sobs started. Silent tears rolled down cheeks. Some covered their mouths. Others clutched their bowls like lifelines.

"It's... it's so good," Mina whimpered. "It's so warm..."

"I've never felt this alive," Alia choked out, smiling through her tears.

"Delicious..."

Daisuke felt his chest ache. He looked away and cleared his throat. "There's plenty more," he said gently. "So, eat as much as you want."

***

While Daisuke was beginning to stow his accouterments back into his inventory, the stable echoed with soft laughter and rustling hay.

The children were now locked in a spirited game of "Who Can Bury Father Alvian Faster," snickering as they took turns patting down clumps of straw atop the slumbering man's head. Ryo, with perfect timing and zero remorse at the end of the game, stepped firmly on the priest's face as he cinched the sack closed.

"Who are they?" he asked casually as he tugged the rope tight, his head cocked to the side.

The horse gave a slow nod while looking at the insufferable sack, as if in solemn approval of the act.

Daisuke had already turned his head toward the edge of the alley where Ryo had gestured. From the shadows between broken crates and half-toppled barrels, several figures lingered—small, thin, with patchy fur and ears drooping low.

They were demihuman dogs, most likely no older than the children here. Their eyes were hollow with hunger, staring not at the scene before them, but at the air where the smell of stew had once drifted.

"...They're from the slums," Theo said quietly, following Daisuke's gaze.

"They're sad," Mina whispered.

No one needed to say it aloud—every one of them knew that look. They had worn it themselves not too long ago. Without a word, Daisuke stepped over to the table and began scooping hearty portions of stew and rice into wooden bowls.

He covered each with a lid and tucked them neatly into a basket, adding slices of bread, fruits, and a generous helping of Vitaberries for healing.

He paused for a moment, then gave it a shake—making sure everything was packed snugly. A part of him debated offering some coin as well, but he quickly discarded the thought.

In this part of the city, money painted a target. Starved addicts and desperate souls would sniff it out in an instant, and children didn't stand a chance against them.

He handed the basket to Theo. "Do you mind?" he said simply.

Theo and the others took it in silence, then padded across the alley toward the strays in the dark. The moment the basket changed hands, the demihuman dogs stiffened as if waiting for the punchline of a cruel joke. But when they peeked inside and saw the food, one began to cry—too weak to make a sound.

Daisuke watched from the edge of the stable, arms folded. His thoughts drifted to Reeza—how tirelessly she worked to protect her people and those like them. He wished he could give these kids safety, peace, a future worth smiling for. But the truth was bitter. Even protecting this current group was already going to be a struggle.

DING!

[Goddess Seraphina's lips curve into a warm smile, moved by your selfless and valiant deeds throughout the course of the day.]

Daisuke blinked at the notification, brows lifting in curiosity. Before he could linger on the goddess's strange fixation on him, movement on the street caught his eye.

A player, armored in mid-tier gear, was scanning the area keenly. Suspended before him was a holographic screen with Daisuke's face on it. More precisely, a candid screenshot of him standing condescendingly over the tattered bodies of Osten and his lackeys dozens of chapters back.

"...Persistent bastards," Daisuke murmured beneath his breath.

It was obvious the player base was stirring again. The recent world message about his slaying of the Unique Dungeon Boss had confirmed, not just his location, but the fact that he hadn't yet left the city.

Thankfully, he still wore his female disguise. Even if the player laid eyes directly on him, they'd never make the connection.

Across the alley, the dog demihumans lifted their arms and waved to him in gratitude. Theo and the others returned a moment later, breathless and bright-eyed.

"They smiled," Alia said, like it was the greatest miracle she'd ever seen.

Daisuke nodded once, then turned toward the clearly unamused horse. With a grunt, he heaved Father Alvian back over the saddle and tied him down securely.

"Let's go," he said, pulling the reins.

No one questioned it. One by one, they followed him out of the alley, leaving behind the stables, the Dungeon Break, a near-death experience and—far more importantly—a life of slavery and misery.