The Druid Who Devoured the Great Nature

“Here it is.”

The woman picked one item from the pile I’d laid on the table.

A deep pink wallet.

It looked like something a little girl might carry—hard to believe those bastards had even snatched that.

“What, why?”

“…Nothing. Forget it.”

Her brusque tone made me swallow my surprise.

People had different tastes, after all.

Even someone with her looks could have a soft side.

“Ah, damn. These bastards are fast-handed, huh? Already spent my money?”

She shook the wallet out. Inside were only a few crumpled bills.

It might’ve been even less than what I had.

Clicking her tongue, she gave me a sharp look.

“…You didn’t pocket the rest, did you?”

“If you’re gonna be ungrateful, hand it back.”

Save someone drowning, and they demand your bundle too.

For all I knew, it might not even have been hers.

I reached for the wallet anyway, and she pulled back.

“If it’s not, then it’s not. Why try to snatch it?”

“Give it.”

“I said sorry, didn’t I?”

After a bit of scuffling, she finally apologized.

But I didn’t soften my stare.

Maybe to change the awkward air, she shifted the topic.

“Nice work, though. You dropped all of them in one go—except one.”

“Good eye. You noticed that.”

“Comes with the job.”

A job, huh.

“You’re a contractor?”

“Close, but something a little more refined.”

“A mercenary, then.”

“Bingo!”

She grinned like a mischievous kid.

Mercenaries. Similar to contractors, but tied to a specific organization.

If contractors were freelancers, mercenaries were full-timers.

Even rookies had some guaranteed skill.

Recalling the force she’d shown earlier, it made sense.

“And you… must be a contractor. Not with skills like that, you’re no ordinary civilian.”

At my silent confirmation, her face twisted slightly.

She seemed dissatisfied.

“Wrong line of work, don’t you think? A face like yours is wasted.”

She closed the distance suddenly, with no sense of personal space.

The mercenary world was infamous for being rough and brash—second only to ours.

Living in constant grit, it was no wonder their behavior leaned bold.

“I’ve got my reasons.”

“Few people in our field don’t. Still… such a waste.”

“I don’t plan on selling my face to make a living.”

“That’s not it. I just mean, if you got scarred, I think it’d hurt me to see it.”

She nudged a corpse with her boot.

On its forearm was a tattoo: a skull emblem.

The mark of the Brotherhood.

“You know what that is, right? Brotherhood’s symbol. If they retaliate, scars on your face will be the least of it.”

“Over a few bottom-feeders? Please.”

“Still the Brotherhood. Are you sure you can handle it?”

“They’re not the kind of group to raise hell over a few dead lackeys.”

“That’s not something you can be sure of. The branch leader here actually manages his men, from what I’ve heard.”

“Sounds like a rookie trying to prove himself.”

“Or someone ambitious gunning for a higher seat.”

“Would someone with that much ambition waste his men on pickpocketing?”

“How should I know? Anyway, just watch yourself.”

She didn’t seem to know more and wasn’t keen to keep the subject going.

“Or better yet, join our office. With my recommendation, you’d pass probation easy.”

“Mercenary corps don’t just hire anyone.”

“Don’t worry. I’ve got some pull in mine.”

“And if I don’t meet the standard?”

“Then we’ll put you out front as a pretty face.”

On paper, mercenary life was better.

Office support, comrades to watch your back, adjusted pay—the perks were plenty.

But I didn’t hesitate.

“Thanks, but no.”

If my goals were money or safety, it would’ve been a golden chance.

But mercenary work didn’t align with what I needed.

‘Depends on the office, but mercs generally get fewer options for requests.’

It would make picking up Greenwood’s jobs nearly impossible.

Negotiating with Cromwell would’ve been wasted if I went merc.

“…Well, it’s your choice. Just don’t regret it later—I won’t offer twice.”

She grumbled, clearly disappointed by my blunt refusal, then left.

I moved on too, before anyone else decided to pick a fight.

‘The Brotherhood… I’ll have to keep an eye out.’

I wasn’t afraid of a clash, but the smart move was to avoid it.

With their numbers, once they started causing trouble, it would be endless annoyance.

‘I’ll stay clear of District 4 for a while.’

I had no business in that den of indulgence anyway.

With a heavier purse, I left the district.

Step, step.

The damp streets of the slums were gloomy and wet, even in the so-called center.

Like trudging through muck after rain.

Hella, the mercenary, whispered to the robed companion walking beside her.

“This place never changes, huh. The faces here look more like corpses than the corpses themselves.”

“……”

“Living like this… they’d be better off dead. Why bother suffering? Just watching them makes my blood boil.”

“…Hella, they can hear you.”

“Let them. What are they gonna do, get angry?”

As she said, the residents of District 7 showed no reaction.

The pair’s appearance alone kept them in check.

One was a mercenary armed with weapons, the other a robed figure of unknown identity.

Clearly, someone from a wealthy family with their escort.

For the lower class, pretending not to see was survival.

“But why do you keep coming here, anyway? There’s nothing to see.”

“Wasn’t it the principle of Drexier mercenaries to keep silent and just do the job?”

“Come on, we’ve known each other a while. You could tell me, right?”

Her cheeky question made her employer scold her flatly.

“…And you’re not even embarrassed, being late to the appointment?”

“Hey, I had my reasons!”

Hella sighed, frustrated.

Of all things, she’d been pickpocketed on the way.

Good thing she got it back quickly—otherwise, the job would’ve been ruined.

“That’s not my concern. Just be grateful I won’t tell Drexier.”

“……”

If her superior heard about her mistake, it would’ve been a disaster.

Hella zipped her lips tight, determined to be a proper Drexier mercenary.

‘Still, I learned nothing.’

Sure, part of it was her personality, but she hadn’t started a conversation for no reason.

This was already her tenth job with this client.

And in all that time, he had hidden his personal details with unnatural care.

‘And the jobs themselves are strange.’

Bodyguarding was one of a mercenary’s main tasks.

But usually, it was because of some danger—not for someone to stroll around like this.

‘He does seem to be from a good family, though.’

That much was obvious from the robe’s shadow.

Even under light, the face beneath remained a blur.

Got it — here’s the full translation of the passage you just gave me:

It was a magic that interfered with perception.

Normally, it was the kind of trick beloved by the precious heirs of high-ranking families, meant to conceal their identity.

‘I don’t know.’

Maybe he was just someone with unusual tastes.

As a mercenary, she didn’t need to dig into her client’s personal affairs. Results were all that mattered.

“…Wait.”

“Yes?”

The client suddenly stopped walking and pressed his hand against a stone wall.

Hella glanced over his shoulder and said,

“Just moss.”

“…Doesn’t it look different to you?”

“Does it?”

She narrowed her eyes and studied it closely.

But it was just moss.

Nothing special about it.

“A spirit…”

The client muttered, slowly tilting his head upward.

He looked at something moving in the empty air.

But to Hella’s eyes, there was nothing there.

‘Has he lost his mind?’

After staring too long at this bleak, gray landscape, maybe something inside him had snapped.

Hella clicked her tongue silently.

“Hella.”

“…Ah, yes!”

She’d been lost in rude thoughts, but barely managed to answer.

“Do you know what happened here recently?”

“I heard the goblin gang causing trouble was wiped out.”

“They defeated the goblins…”

His voice carried a depth that felt oddly heavy.

As Hella watched him gently stroke the moss, she suddenly froze.

‘Huh?’

A shimmer of light flickered around the gloved hand.

But that wasn’t what caught her attention.

‘His ears…’

A gust of wind lifted his robe.

In the glow of the light, she glimpsed inside the hood that hid his face.

‘No, that can’t be.’

Hella shook her head.

She told herself her eyes had deceived her.

‘There’s no way those pointy-eared nobles would hire mercenaries just to stroll through a slum.’

Elves.

Each one of them bore a noble lineage that wielded influence over the city.

A clan that had abandoned tradition in favor of civilization.

They only appeared at city-wide ceremonies.

The idea of one parading through a slum was absurd.

“Let’s go back.”

“…Already?”

“Something urgent has come up.”

For once, he returned early.

What had changed his mind?

Hella could only follow him, her head full of unanswered questions.

“Here’s your payment.”

Three days later, I returned to the office.

Cromwell had kept the deadline he promised.

I picked up the bundle of bills, thick as a finger, and said,

“That’s hefty. Didn’t you overpay me?”

“If I can bleed a client dry, this much is cheap.”

“So they really did hide information?”

“Well, that depends on whether you believe it or not.”

Cromwell gave a sly smile.

‘Creepy bastard.’

He’d clearly squeezed them for all they were worth.

Not just my fee—he must have lined his own pockets handsomely, too.

“The deal that I get Greenwood’s requests first still stands, right?”

“Unlike contractors, brokers live or die by trust. I won’t go back on my word.”

“Then show me the next job.”

I’d taken three full days to rest and recover.

Time was money, and I was ready to jump right back into work.

“There isn’t one.”

“…There isn’t?”

“Sure. They’ll request again when the time comes.”

He looked at me as if wondering why I even asked.

‘No next job, huh.’

I remembered more than one request from Greenwood. Maybe they were still gathering information.

The delay left a bitter taste.

‘Well, I don’t have to cling only to Greenwood.’

I already had the lead I needed.

Even without them, I knew what kind of jobs I should be taking.

“Since I told you, have you heard any rumors about people or monsters going berserk?”

The engraved circuits on the Spirit Cocoon Fragment, and the chaos they caused.

Aside from Greenwood, the only jobs worth chasing were those tied to spirits.

“Well… nothing’s reached my ears yet.”

Cromwell rubbed his chin, then gave me a sidelong glance.

“But if it’s berserk monsters you want, there is a job that fits.”

He plucked a request sheet from the corkboard.

“Corrupted. Cleaning up the black mage’s tainted experiments.”

Black mages.

They were a breed apart from the mages affiliated with the Tower’s scholarly schools.

Unlike ordinary mages, who were respected as elite anywhere they went, black mages were shunned throughout society.

The reason was the sinister nature of black magic itself.

‘Black magic doesn’t seek spiritual enlightenment or mental discipline.’

Meditation, theoretical study—none of the usual methods helped with black magic.

The only way to grow was through direct experimentation and research.

And research required living subjects.

Innocent people, taken for experiments.

‘In the game, there was always a chance of being kidnapped by black mages for their experiments.’

If you were taken, it was game over.

At best, you survived only to be left mutilated from horrific modifications.

The reason such vile creatures persisted was thanks to the powerful.

‘Every black mage with a name had a city councilman as patron.’

They used black mages as shields for their projects:

Bioweapon development. Magical implants. Research into immortality.

Countless studies rejected for ethical reasons were conducted at the hands of black mages.

The Corrupted were their most notorious byproducts.

When abandoned workshops were left behind, the Corrupted would awaken and wreak havoc on civilians.

Berserk monsters—this was exactly the sort of request I was looking for.

‘Different from the ones I’m after… but still.’

Who knew?

There could be a link between them.

Even with my knowledge, this was unexplored territory.

So I accepted the job.

‘Come to think of it, he said I’d have a partner.’

I felt equal parts unease and anticipation.

The Corrupted were monsters.

Too dangerous to handle alone, so the office had assigned me an ally.

‘Hopefully not a weirdo.’

I arrived at the meeting point.

And saw my partner.

“…Uh, what the—.”

Still dressed in her carefree style, ponytail swaying, neck boldly exposed.

“…?”

It was the mercenary I’d met just a few days ago.

(End of Chapter)