"...?"
"P-please! If you spare me, I'll do anything! Please!"
What the hell is this?
For a moment, I couldn’t grasp the situation at all, and a gap in my guard briefly showed—but she, with her head pressed to the ground, didn’t seem to notice.
"Wow... You really want to live that badly?"
"Yes! Yes! S-should I lick your feet?! Master!"
"No, I don’t need that."
"Understood! Master!"
Master? Since when?
If anyone saw this, they’d mistake her for a dog beastkin instead of a snake one.
Well, her lower half *was* a snake, like a lamia, so maybe not that confusing—but her behavior, though...
"Sigh... I was actually going to kill you."
"Hii—! Please don’t kill me! I’m good at laundry! And cooking! And cleaning! Wouldn’t I make a good household slave?!"
"..."
She must be in a panic. There’s no reasoning with her.
...My mood soured.
Does she *really* want to live that badly?
I’d planned to kill her without hesitation if she attacked or showed any sign of resistance. After all, she was supposed to die eventually, and I didn’t feel anything particular about it.
But seeing her beg like this... it left a strange taste in my mouth.
None of the enemies who’d come at me before had ever groveled this pathetically just to survive.
[Reader, are you hesitating? Just kill her. That’s why you came here, right?]
"...You’re right. Yeah."
The Author was correct.
This snake beastkin was just an obstacle in the story’s progression. A mere puppet—expendable, whether she existed or not.
She was just one of the 2,400 or so villainous puppets created due to the Author’s setting changes.
And if I dragged this out any longer, the other villains might shake off their fear and come swarming. Then, emboldened by their numbers, she might try to stab me in the back again.
Killing her was simple. Efficient. There was no reason *not* to.
...Yeah. Killing her was the easy choice.
[...? Reader?]
"Can you hide those legs?"
"Y-yes! I can! I can hide them! Please don’t kill me!"
"You said you were good at housework?"
"Y-yes! Yes! Just leave it to me!"
I threw a few more questions at her.
Maybe she sensed she might actually survive, because color returned to her face as she grinned and answered.
[Reader?!]
"I’ve always wanted to try having a maid."
[Ugh, that’s just an excuse! Why the sudden change?!]
Yeah, I know. It’s an excuse.
The Author’s mistake had created 2,400 villains. My current goal was to eliminate 1,600 of them.
There was no reason to spare even one. Especially not someone in a high-ranking position like her.
And this could even risk putting me at odds with the Author. The smart move was to kill her.
...But.
I looked at her face, beaming with relief despite her groveling.
Noticing my gaze, she pressed her head back to the ground.
She was bowing to the very person who’d killed her comrades—just to survive.
She didn’t seem like a puppet. She seemed... alive. Human.
Not some noble character from a story who’d avenge their fallen allies, but a selfish, pragmatic person—just like the kind you’d see anywhere in the real world.
Not some idealized hero I’d never met, but an ordinary person I *had*.
The sight of her desperately clinging to life twisted something inside me—it felt like I was watching something alive.
"...How about this: you’re a member of a secret society."
[W-What? A secret society?!]
"Perfect timing. I was feeling a little empty with just two members."
"...Huh?"
"Welcome, Spira. From now on, you’re part of Arachne. Nice to have you."
"What?!"
No, that can’t be.
This thing is a doll. No doubt about it.
So this is just my whim.
A trivial whim, nothing more.
[Hmm, a secret society with only two members *is* a little... Alright! A secret society with a traitor from a rival organization... That sounds cool too!]
Fortunately, the author didn’t seem to have any complaints.
I exhaled in relief, then glanced at Spira, now my comrade.
"Alright, first order. Maid."
"Y-Yes! What do you need me to do?!"
"Go outside and kill your former comrades."
"?!"
"...Can’t do it?"
"N-No! I’ll do it!"
Only after watching Spira scramble out of the room did I finally fling the heavy wool aside.
Ugh, it was way too hot.
And heavier than I expected.
"Hah, hah... This thing’s *really* heavy."
[It looks so fluffy. I kinda want to hug it too.]
"Sure, it *felt* nice, but it was *boiling* in there?! And I was like this the whole time! ...No, forget that—just give me clothes already!"
[Ah, right. Almost forgot.]
Like *she* was the one who almost forgot!
I was naked, buried in that wool the whole time!
I almost got caught completely bare!
I only had enough Thread left to kill Spira once.
And even that might not have been enough if she’d put up a real fight or if things went wrong.
Exactly one shot. That’s all the Thread I had left for a single attack.
"Lucky she’s the type to prioritize self-preservation."
I let out a small sigh.
[Arachne Live Updates.jpg]
(NSFL Warning)
(Photo of an abandoned factory drenched in blood)
(Hyperlink to news portal)
Massacre of Weaver Menace—or whatever they were called—villain organization members, including two high-ranking officers (one male, one female) killed. The last one is missing.
Are they gods?
Messengers sent by God Himself to grant the wish of wiping out these trash villains?
Comments - 1176
Amelia put down her phone and scrolled through the replies.
Siwoo, who had been reading the news over her shoulder, let out a gloomy mutter.
"Praise here, praise there... Everyone’s hyped."
"Well, yeah. They basically erased the people they hated."
Siwoo seemed uncomfortable with the overheated atmosphere.
There were a few comments from people who shared his sentiment, but they were quickly buried under a wave of backlash and vanished.
"I just don’t get it."
"I get it. You, them—everyone."
Siwoo couldn’t understand how people could celebrate the deaths of hundreds, even if they were criminals.
Probably because he’d killed villains himself and knew the weight of taking a life.
He’d felt the gravity of death firsthand, so the idea of so many lives being lost filled him with instinctive revulsion.
Even if they are a criminal organization...
...But I think I understand why these people act this way.
"Whether big or small, there are plenty of people who’ve suffered at the hands of Villains."
"That’s..."
"I know. Maybe those people weren’t the ones who caused the harm, right? But what can you do? Do you think human emotions just disappear that easily? To them, all Villains look the same."
Most citizens weren’t Awakened. And most Villains were.
Which meant citizens were inevitably more likely to get caught up in the Awakened crimes committed by Villains.
"They think the punishment doesn’t match the crime. Blood for blood. Tears for tears."
It wasn’t uncommon for Villains who killed people to be released quickly. Due to the chronic shortage of Awakened individuals.
There weren’t many cases, but sometimes they were let go under plea bargains—serving a set period on the front lines in exchange for their freedom.
"Villains get out through plea bargains, but the dead don’t come back, do they?"
"...But the survival rate for Villains on the front lines is terrible. It’s extremely hard to make it out alive. Even the Heroes on the front lines despise them, so they won’t help if Villains are in danger. They get abandoned."
"Citizens know that. But it’s not like *no one* comes back."
"..."
It was an efficient system.
The Association gained much-needed Awakened personnel through plea bargains, and Villains got a chance at freedom instead of rotting in prison for life.
But emotions don’t follow efficiency.
Citizens who had directly suffered at the hands of Villains couldn’t tolerate the idea of Villains getting a chance at freedom.
Even if the number of Villains who survived the front lines and returned to society was extremely small, they still couldn’t accept that even a few made it back.
"Can’t be helped. If some Villain killed my parents and I heard that Villain was returning to society, I’d probably act the same way."
"...Yeah. I get that. I’m not blaming them."
"Then what don’t you get?"
Was I off the mark?
I thought he was upset because the citizens were celebrating the Villains’ deaths like it was a festival.
"Hey, this—Arte did this, right?"
"...Probably? Arachne is a group, so if Arte was involved, then yeah."
"Then... how does Arte feel about it?"
"Huh?"
That came out of nowhere.
How was *Arte* feeling? How the hell was I supposed to know?
I wanted to brush it off, but Siwoo’s expression was serious, so I couldn’t just let it slide.
"If Arte hadn’t helped me when I killed someone, I would’ve had a hard time for a while."
"Yeah. Probably."
"So... is Arte okay after killing all those people?"
"What are you—"
"I don’t really know how Arte feels right now."
How *Arte Isis* felt?
That was a weird thing to ask out of the blue.
"Obviously she doesn’t care. She’s a Villain. A *Villain*."
"...Is that true?"
"Yeah. So stop overthinking it and focus on how to seduce her or something. Or find the artifact first."
"Got it."
But that day, we didn’t make any progress.
Because Siwoo couldn’t concentrate and kept nagging at me the whole time.