No to Being the Suffering Heroine!

While Wolfgang watched the corpses and baby spiders burn, we rummaged through the corners of the warehouse, looking for anything that could make us some money.

“…Just junk. Doesn’t look like there’s anything useful.”

“That’s too bad.”

Unfortunately, there wasn’t anything worth mentioning as income. Well, this isn’t a dungeon or anything. Whatever we find will probably just be the belongings of miners who became spider food.

Unless they were the mine owner, regular miners wouldn’t be carrying anything valuable, would they?

All we found were a rotting pickaxe, a dagger, some cheap rings, and a small notebook.

“…A notebook?”

“It looks like a journal! I can’t read it!”

Kikel replied, showing off the small notebook that was half-soaked in blood.

He could vaguely speak human language, but said he couldn’t read at all.

Not that there was anything to be embarrassed about. I mean, it’s a world full of illiterates even in their own languages, so why worry?

“Let me see.”

Of course, I could read it. Since I fell into this world, I could naturally pronounce and read the words just like my mother tongue. Strange, isn’t it?

Is it some kind of reincarnator’s perk? Or did whatever shoved me into Brunhilde’s body implant knowledge of this world’s language and writing into my head?

Thinking about it sent a chill down my spine.

Like there’s something I can’t even sense tinkering with my mind.

…Let’s not think about it.

There’s no point in worrying; it’ll just ruin my mood.

In any case, thanks to it, I was spared from the mishap of being a lost traveler in a world where I couldn’t communicate.

I squeezed my eyes shut, pushed the negative thoughts away, and took the notebook from Kikel to check its contents.

“Hmm… Ah, this is definitely a journal. It’s the previous village chief’s journal.”

So they really did become spider bait. Seeing the journal here means that part was true.

I flipped through the pages of the journal.

Records of the development progress and output of the mine.
Complaints about his only son leaving for the city, saying he wasn’t interested in being a miner.
Concern about hearing strange noises from the tunnels below.
Even a note about his son unexpectedly returning after trying to start a business. Various stories filled with shaky handwriting were scattered throughout.

And on the last page of the journal…

“…Blood?”

Unlike the earlier entries, these short lines were written in blood, not ink. Were they like last words before dying?

“Damn bastard… Betrayal… Legs… Cursed…?”

It was incredibly hard to decipher what was written.

The handwriting itself was a mess, and most of the letters were smudged or faded.

Still, after carefully feeling my way through, I could understand the gist of it.

“The previous village chief was murdered.”

A last testament written in blood by the previous village chief. It contained the truth about his death.

“The culprit is his son, and the motive… is a classic inheritance issue.”

The son, who had gone belly up in business and returned home, demanded the shares or ownership of the mine.
When the previous village chief refused, he apparently attempted to kill him.
He quietly murdered his father in the mine and tried to cover it up as an accident with a rockfall.

The kicker is that just before he finished off his father, giant spiders broke through the walls of the tunnel.

The current village chief kicked his father’s legs, broke them, and fled, leaving the previous chief to crawl to the warehouse to hide.
And from there, he left this testament, certain he wouldn’t survive much longer, cursing his son’s betrayal and immorality.

◆◆

We found out that the current village chief was the ultimate scumbag, but our task didn’t change.

Our role wasn’t to clean out the mine; it was about delivering justice!

“What shall we do with this journal?”

Handing it over to the current village chief would be a terrible idea.

He’d be caught carrying out his perfect crime by some random adventurers, so it’s only natural he’d think about silencing us before we could spill the beans.

“Hiring an assassin with money made from resuming mining sounds like a possible move.”

“We could report it to the guards and accuse the chief, but… there’s no benefit in it and it sounds like a hassle.”

Laute suggested we just bury it casually.
There wouldn’t be a reward even if we reported the chief, and if we started disputing the facts, we would have to be dragged to the guards multiple times, wouldn’t that get troublesome?

It was a skilled adventurer’s way of viewing things.

“Can’t we just ask for some hush money in exchange for keeping quiet?”

Wolfgang also proposed a typical adventurer’s idea: threaten the chief for some back pay and call it even.

Once we held that secret in the back pocket, the chief wouldn’t likely come after us, right?

Indeed, that was a typical adventurer’s mindset. Living only for today!

“Well, I can’t imagine the man who killed my father would let the adventurers threatening him go so easily.”

I shook my head, countering Wolfgang’s idea.
Unless we were some legendary adventurers that even a mere village chief couldn’t touch, it was a dangerously reckless idea.

In the end, we decided to quietly bury this matter as Laute suggested. Just in case, we took the journal with us.

◆◆

Now that we’ve wiped out all the little ones in the warehouse, all that’s left is the abyss at the heart of the tunnel.

We retraced our steps back towards the fork in the path and this time took the right passage, moving forward steadily.

After walking for about twenty minutes…

I expected more fights along the way, but strangely enough, ever since passing the fork, we hadn’t encountered any giant spiders.

Were the ones clustered at the fork the last of them?

Maybe that’s the case. It seems like no one came to stop us while all their babies were burning.

Anyway, we finally reached the end of the tunnel.

“This is….”

It appeared to be a wide cavern with holes riddling it like a patient with osteoporosis who had given up digging in the dirt and rock.

Spider webs were tangled in all the holes in the walls, and the ground felt oddly damp.

“Did we make it?”

“Looks like it.”

The interior was much larger than I had imagined. Just the torchlight wasn’t enough to check the status of the ceiling.

“Seems like there are no giant spiders around… Kikel, how does the ceiling look? Can you tell by smell?”

“Karrrr…! It’s hard. My nose is stuffed, the smoke is toxic…!”

Kikel clicked his tongue and grumbled, saying he is stuffed up from the rotting and burning smells that filled the warehouse.

…Depending on smell for reconnaissance has its drawbacks.

“So there’s nothing we can do. For now, let’s be cautious of what’s above and take a look around.”

If there were spiders clinging to the ceiling, they’d surely attack us sooner or later.

So, we needed to cover our heads thoroughly and just wander the cavern in preparation for an ambush.

“Correct. Shield woman, Laute? Use the shield like an umbrella.”

Kikel lifted his shield over his head, suggesting we keep our heads covered as we searched the cavern since the giant spiders might ambush us from above.

“Is this alright?”

Laute nodded and lifted her round shield, covering her head.

Just as she was about to step forward into the cavern…

“Hmm, why not just throw a torch at the ceiling instead?”

“Oh.”

Surprisingly, remarkably, the octopus chimpanzee had made a dramatic evolution.

Thanks to the experience gifted by the giant spiders, maybe?

He finally transcended the life of a beast flopping around with front and hind legs and evolved into a primitive man who understood the concept of ‘throwing’!

Throwing.
It’s how our ancestors, the primitive humans, reigned as predators hunting gigantic beasts.
Not even the hairy, ancient mammoth could escape death from their thrown spears.

The fact that Wolfgang now understood the concept of throwing meant he could finally be acknowledged as part of humanity.

“That sounds good. Kikel, can I ask you to do that?”

“Trust!”

Taking Wolfgang’s torch, Kikel spun around twice and then, in a sharp roar, threw the torch above his head.

Whoosh!

The torch with a scarlet tail shot up, illuminating the place as if the morning sun had come up.

Three seconds later. The blazing torch reached the ceiling, brightening up the area around it at last.

And then.

Kiieee!

A creature stuck to the ceiling shrieked in anger at the sudden light.

“That…?!”

The expressions of my teammates turned stiff with horror.
Awestruck by the monster hanging from the tunnel roof, looking down at us with its claws dug in.
A body covered in a shell. Eight legs sprouting fur.
With fangs emerging from its gaping maw.
While its external features made it look like a giant spider at first glance…

Its head had…

Kiieee…!

Instead of a spider’s face with eight eyes, a human face was grotesquely attached.

“You’re here…!”

“…Son?”

Kikel glanced at Wolfgang, his voice trembling slightly.

“It has the same head. Hey, father?”

“No!”

Wolfgang screamed as if he was having a fit.

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