Daisuke was slipping the impressively endowed woman a tip and some fruit when a group of kids arrived on the scene.
Most of the people living in the slums had one or two side hustles—this woman's main gig was to receive old clothes from dignitaries, mend them as best as she could, and sell them for cheap in the slums.
Today, she played the role of an exceptional distraction—a lovely lady in distress. After receiving her payment for the job, she quietly left with a sly smile.
"Haxks!" a small boy approached exuberantly. "Did we do good today?"
"You did great!" Daisuke replied, tousling his hair. Then he passed a glance over all the other kids whose eyes glittered eagerly. "You all did. Now head on over to Casper; he'll distribute food for you and your family."
They cheered excitedly and scampered over to collect their reward for dumping trash on the shopkeepers. Daisuke, at the same time, started making his way into a crude building.
This was just one of many successful raids over the past four years. Daisuke and the others had studied the layout of the village, and organized escape routes prepped with obstacles leading into the slums.
In moments of peril like today's, they frequently relied on the assistance of the children to facilitate their escape, promising generous rewards in return.
These rewards were not limited to the children but extended to their families as well, provided they agreed to actively participate in agricultural endeavors.
While the farming initiatives were designed for the families' own benefit, the people of the slums had lost their sense of purpose and needed incentives to engage in productive activities.
Recognizing this pressing need, Daisuke introduced this program to encourage a renewed sense of industry and purpose among the community.
The village lord turned a blind eye to the plight of the slums; since its residents neither worked nor paid taxes, they were deemed unworthy of any form of aid.
However, Daisuke had vision: he believed that if the rampant stealing became a significant enough issue, it would compel the lord to intervene. And once the lord observed the residents engaging in agriculture and striving for change, Daisuke hoped that he would finally extend a helping hand.
At least, that's how he envisioned it unfolding.
"How is he?"
Mia, the bunny-eared girl who was busy wrapping gauze around Brek's head, turned to Daisuke as he spoke. "Luckily, he doesn't have any broken bones," she reassured, her tone calm and comforting. "Just a bit sore and a few bruises here and there."
Daisuke returned her smile, but his expression hardened as he looked at his injured comrade. "I'm sure I don't need to point out where you went wrong?"
The Wolfkin clicked his tongue, his expression filled with chagrin.
"Your greed put both you and your scout at risk," Daisuke remarked, his tone firm but not unkind. "Please try to have a bit more self-control; you may not be as lucky next time."
The core team watched in silence, observing the evolution of Daisuke and Brek's relationship over the years. What had once been a rickety friendship had gradually eroded into full-on rivalry, with Brek and a few others viewing Daisuke's methods as overly cautious and soft.
In Brek's eyes, he believed that assuming the role of leader would genuinely uplift the people in the slums. By adopting a more assertive approach—venturing out on runs more frequently and seizing greater resources—they could accelerate the improvement of the slums far beyond Daisuke's more measured approach.
"You guys should get some rest and lay low for a while," Daisuke stated, turning to leave. "I'll be heading home for today."
***
Candlelight glowed on the worn pine walls of a small house. The shadows flickered like apparitions of evil. The soft scent of incense hung in the air, and a man knelt beside a futon, his eyes fixed on the motionless figure beneath a white blanket—his departed wife. His eyes were red from crying, his face etched with sorrow.
He was a simple merchant, saving every coin for his wife's medical needs. But the constant theft by the slum kids chipped away at his earnings. Unable to provide the necessary care, his wife's health declined, and eventually, she slipped away.
The man's heart ached with the weight of his loss, and his grief transformed into something else—a burning desire for vengeance.
In the dimly lit room, his fingers clenched into fists and eyes became bloodshot, anger fueling his resolve. He stared at the empty space beside him, imagining his wife's presence, and vowed to himself that he would make those who had robbed them of their time together pay for their actions.
***
Daisuke tousled his hair in frustration as he contemplated the unpleasant atmosphere between him and a handful of the troop. He also considered Brek's ambitions with a scathing expression.
Increasing the frequency of thefts would diminish their element of surprise and heighten the risk of getting caught. Moreover, seizing larger quantities would leave insufficient goods for sale, depriving shopkeepers of food for themselves and their families.
Such actions would spark a level of outrage and animosity from the village folk that they've never seen before. Forget angering the Lord; it would incite the entire village to form a mob and descend upon the slums with the intent to massacre everyone.
Daisuke knew Brek was only looking out for the poverty-stricken slum folk, but he was also being shortsighted. And that recklessness could possibly cause everything they've built up over the past few years to come crashing down.
Brek was also eager to introduce pickpocketing into their repertoire, but Daisuke was strongly against it. Right across the board, stealing was wrong, but robbing people of their coin felt like it carried a heavier moral weight compared to taking food.
From a pragmatic perspective, attempting to rob certain individuals, such as nobles and players, could potentially lead to disastrous consequences.
The shopkeepers were fairly manageable, but players could murder NPCs given the right circumstances, and nobles could hire assassins or even players to do the same.
Daisuke smiled wistfully, returning the gestures of gratitude from the people in the slums who were thankful for all he was doing.
He desperately needed money, too. As a matter of fact, he was saving up for his mother's medical expenses by doing odd jobs around the village. But he had never once considered stealing money, and that would never change.
As he thought about his mother's health that hadn't particularly improved at all over the years, Daisuke couldn't help but wonder about her mysterious background.
Eleven years had passed and he hardly knew anything about his virtual mother—any less and she would practically be a stranger to him. He couldn't begin to understand why she was so secretive about her past, but he respected her decision and didn't try to pry.
As for his father, considering the nature of her job, it wasn't difficult to piece together the likely story. He was also certain that she was fleeing from something or someone, making her somewhat of a fugitive. However, he respected her privacy and refrained from probing into that aspect of her past, as well.
His sole curiosity centered on one simple question: her name. That was all he wanted to know.
Daisuke struggled to define his emotions toward the reserved woman. She didn't fit neatly into the role of a mother, yet she was more than just a friend. It was a complex relationship, but he knew deep down that he would be devastated if anything were to ever happen to—