“Hello. My name is Earp… Earp Schmidt Ripper.”

  For the others, “taking a break” in the city of Freyja probably meant booze, shopping, or wandering the streets until night swallowed the rooftops.

  But for me… real rest was sitting in silence inside a church—praying, breathing slowly, and letting my mind finally settle into something like peace.

  We’d just wrapped up an escort job for a merchant, so everyone had some free time to mess around.

  Still, to me, spending those hours in the church was worth far more than getting drunk or hunting for souvenirs.

  I’ve been with this party for about a year now…

  And if you’re wondering how a kid with an assassin’s past like mine ended up traveling with the world’s top-tier Rank S monsters…

  Then I’ll tell you myself.

  Fourteen years ago, in a hidden manor deep within a dense forest— on a night when the air felt heavy enough to swallow every sound—a pregnant woman went into labor.

  The Ripper family’s ritual was written in clear, unforgiving lines:

  the husband must deliver the child himself.

  No doctor. No assistants. No witnesses. No one.

  And that night, the baby was born.

  He didn’t cry.

  There was no wail to announce a new life, no loud proof that something had begun.

  Not even a tear slid from the small eyes that hadn’t fully opened yet.

  By tradition, the child was given a name:

  Earp Schmidt Ripper—heir to the most infamous assassin lineage of all.

  They lived in a manor that didn’t exist on any map. No one could say for certain where it truly was.

  Their work was the kind the law could never touch: closing cases, finishing jobs.

  If you wanted someone to disappear, you called the Ripper family.

  Their principles weren’t complicated.

  Study the weakness.

  Confirm the guilt.

  Finish the operation.

  And if the target didn’t match what the client claimed… then the only thing the client would receive in the end

  was a world so quiet, it left no room for questions.

  Earp—the child who never cried—grew up cradled in that coldness.

  The moment he learned to walk, his training began.

  In the Ripper family, there was no such thing as a gift or something you want.

  Everything had to be taken with your own hands.

  The training only intensified—

  from basic theory, anatomy, and psychology,

  to molding the body into something that could endure beyond what humans should.

  His talent surfaced far too early.

  At two years old, he swatted away an adult hand reaching to pinch his cheek—

  and a finger bone snapped with a sharp crack.

  At seven, he could move through the dark without a sound, without a trace—

  as if he’d never existed there at all.

  Not long after that…

  he was given real assassination missions.

  He built an uncountable record of successes,

  even before his voice had finished changing.

  But inside—

  there was only emptiness.

  One day, he met a high-ranking priestess at the church—

  people called her the Archbishop-to-be.

  She spoke to him in a gentle voice.

  

  “Human sin… even if it can never be completely erased, we can still choose not to create more.”

  Those words felt like a door opening somewhere inside him.

  After that, Earp began visiting the church more often… to confess.

  

  “Please… forgive me.”

  

  “And what have you done, my child?”

  

  “Last night, I killed people… twenty-two bodies, Father.”

  

  “…What!? Twenty-two in a single night!?”

  

  “Will my sins… be forgiven, Father?”

  

  “Haaah… that’s… not exactly an easy one…”

  It became a strange routine for the boy—

  confessing sins that were too many to count.

  Until one day, he heard the news:

  the Archbishop-to-be was leaving the church… to become an adventurer,

  to help people in a different way.

  Earp didn’t even know her name.

  Because for an assassin to ask the name of someone that important…

  was never a good idea.

  But he felt his eyes open again—

  and this time, he chose a new path, following hers.

  He registered as an adventurer, even though he was still just a child.

  His inhuman skill let him rocket past everyone his age.

  Before he even realized it…

  he had climbed to Rank S in no time at all.

  One day, while I was sitting in the guild—waiting for a quest that actually suited an assassin—two men walked up to me.

  

  “Hey… you’re an Assassin, right?”

  

  “Yes. I’m an assassin.”

  The man grinned, wide and shameless.

  

  “I’m Jager… Jager Ace Espada. People call me Ace for short. I’m a Sword Master. And this is Sight Ranger.”

  Sight, swaying unsteadily at his side, lifted a hand in greeting.

  The stink of alcohol rolled off him from a distance—strong enough to make me almost choke.

  Ace leaned closer, lowering his voice like he was about to share a secret.

  

  “So… I wanna invite you to join our party.”

  

  “…Me? What could an assassin like me even do to help a party?”

  Ace laughed and slapped my shoulder.

  

  “Just come with us first. I’ll tell you when we get there.”

  Not long after, we left the city of Vanir and headed into the southern forest—

  a place that had just started making waves, ever since rumors spread that a hidden dungeon had been discovered there.

  At the dungeon entrance, a small camp had already been set up.

  A kind-faced woman with her hair tied up in a practical knot was polishing a gleaming metal hammer.

  Nearby, a tall, elegant young man in spotless armor sat adjusting a small hand mirror at his side.

  And a petite mage with… frankly odd vibes was doodling a magic circle on the ground for fun—

  even I, not a mage, could tell that circle probably didn’t exist in any real spellbook.

  Ace asked immediately.

  

  “Mary still not back yet?”

  Rome lifted his eyes from the mirror and answered in a grave tone.

  

  “She isn’t coming. A hidden dungeon like this is exactly what she fears most.”

  Ace sighed, then turned to me and introduced them one by one.

  

  “This is my party. That’s Valda the best smith I’ve ever known.”

  “And this is Romeo our crusader. The most perfectly put-together man in the universe.”

  “And… that otaku mage over there is Lilius. You can call her Lily.”

  Ace glanced at me like something had just occurred to him. Then he asked casually, almost absentmindedly—

  

  “Oh, right. What’s your name again?”

  This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

  He should’ve asked that from the start… but he’d somehow forgotten.

  

  “Earp. Earp Schmidt Ripper.”

  The young man answered in a flat, steady voice.

  Valda’s eyes lit up immediately.

  

  “Oh? The Ripper family? That’s really interesting.”

  Her voice carried a small, barely-hidden thrill—like someone who’d just spotted a rare collectible in a dusty secondhand shop.

  Lily tilted her head, wearing a wide-eyed, innocent look.

  

  “What’s the Ripper family?”

  She asked seriously, because she genuinely had no idea.

  Rome’s crooked smile faded.

  

  “Ripper…”

  he said, voice still sweet—yet edged with warning.

  

  “They’re the most famous assassin family in the world, darling. Try not to make our young man here angry. I’m warning you.”

  Lily’s smile broadened. She pressed one hand to her forehead, flicked her cloak dramatically with the other, and planted a hand on her hip.

  

  “Heh. Heh. Heh… an assassin, you say?”

  

  “So you, too, are a servant of chaos just like me… heh, heh.”

  She spoke with absolute confidence—

  but her eyes were sparkling like a cartoon character in the middle of an over-the-top pose.

  Earp lifted his gaze slightly, confused by her attitude.

  

  “A servant of… chaos?”

  It was a simple question—asked with complete sincerity.

  Ace waved a hand, cutting her off like he was swatting away an annoying fly.

  

  “Don’t mind her. Let’s focus on what you actually need to do.”

  And he immediately motioned for Earp to step closer—straight toward the mouth of the dungeon.

  Ace’s voice turned serious.

  

  “You’ve got that map-making skill, right? I want you to scout as far as you can. Sneak in, blend in whatever you have to do. Then recreate the map for us.”

  “But don’t push it. If it feels dangerous, get out immediately.”

  Earp nodded calmly.

  

  “When do you want me to go in?”

  

  “If you’re ready, you can go now. No rush.”

  “We’ll set up camp. Once we have the map, we’ll go in tomorrow morning.”

  Ace answered.

  

  “Understood.”

  The moment he finished speaking—

  Earp vanished.

  Ace walked back toward the campfire they’d just lit. The flames flickered bright, throwing long shadows of the party as they prepared dinner.

  Lily was helping Valda chop vegetables—

  the steady thock-thock of a knife hitting the cutting board kept time like a metronome.

  

  “Oh? Did you forget something?”

  Valda looked up as she saw Earp step out from the dungeon entrance.

  

  “Um… I’m done scouting,”

  Earp said.

  

  “HUH!?”

  Everyone shouted at once.

  Ace shot to his feet.

  

  “Done!? Or was it short inside?”

  Earp shook his head calmly.

  

  “No. It’s fairly complex. There are a lot of false routes, and the entire place is packed with traps. I sealed off those paths… and disarmed the traps.”

  

  “You disarmed them all!?”

  Sight choked—booze shooting straight out of his nose.

  

  “You’ve gotta be kidding me!!”

  

  “Yes. And I dealt with all the monsters as well right up to the treasure room at the very end.”

  Rome’s eyes widened like they were about to pop right out.

  

  “Good heavens! This is insane. I’ve never seen anything like this in my life!”

  Ace let out a long breath, wearing a thin, awkward smile.

  

  “Okay… then let’s see that map you made.”

  Earp raised a hand and gave a gentle wave.

  The sand around him began to flow and gather, swirling into shape—

  forming a detailed three-dimensional image of a massive labyrinth, so precise you could even see trap placements.

  

  “Here. It’s a single-floor dungeon built like a maze.But the safe route I prepared is this one.”

  He traced a line along the map.

  

  “If you walk normally, it’ll take about an hour to reach the treasure room.”

  Sight actually set down his bottle and snorted a laugh.

  

  “Kid… come with us. Like permanently!

  Ace turned with a grin.

  

  “Yeah. Honestly, nobody fits better than you. So what do you say, kid? Interested in joining my messed up little party?”

  Earp hesitated, his expression stiff.

  He’d never really imagined working with anyone.

  Because ever since he was born… his missions had always been solo.

  It was faster. Cleaner. Easier.

  And there was no one to worry about.

  

  “Um… well…”

  Earp was about to refuse.

  But then—

  a voice called out from behind the camp.

  

  “Hey, everyone… are you all ready? “I’ll wait outside, though.”

  Mary walked in, clearly forcing herself to be there.

  Her face was still pale—

  and it was obvious she had zero intention of stepping into the dungeon.

  Earp’s eyes widened.

  Before he could stop himself, the words burst out of him—loud and clear.

  

  “Archbishop!”

  

  “Huh!? What did you just say!?”

  Mary jumped so hard she nearly tripped.

  

  “I’m only the would-be one! And I already turned it down! “I chose to become an adventurer instead to help people!”

  Ace and the others exchanged stunned looks.

  But Earp turned to Ace at once, his expression suddenly fierce with resolve.

  

  “Then it’s decided. I’ll stay with this party. Even if you don’t let me… I’ll keep following you anyway.”

  The air around the campfire seemed to freeze for a heartbeat—

  and then Sight burst out laughing.

  

  “Hah ha-ha-ha! Good. Welcome aboard, kid!”

  Mary remained outside.

  Meanwhile, the other six followed the route Earp had marked.

  Inside, the dungeon was lined with monster corpses—scattered along the path like discarded husks.

  They looked like they hadn’t even realized they’d died.

  Each body carried only one wound:

  one slash, one cut, one clean strike… and it was over.

  Some corpses had already begun to be swallowed by the dungeon walls,

  as if the stone itself was trying to erase all evidence.

  The air was cold—

  heavy with a pressure that sank into the skin.

  At last, they reached the treasure chamber.

  But when they opened the chest—

  

  “No gold, no gems… just animal hide?”

  Valda frowned.

  Ancient letters were carved across the hide—

  but not a single one of them could read it.

  Ace sighed.

  

  “Fine. We’ll bring it back and let the guild take a look.”

  The group returned to the campfire and rejoined Mary.

  They sat down and ate dinner together—laughter weaving through the scent of food and the crack-pop of burning wood.

  Tonight…

  Earp wasn’t alone anymore.

  Back in the present, candlelight trembled inside the church.

  The shadow of the cross stretched long across the stone floor.

  Earp sat in quiet prayer for a while, then slowly rose and stepped into the confessional.

  

  “What wrong have you done?”

  The priest’s voice cut through the silence.

  

  “I am a sinner, Father.”

  Earp answered evenly.

  

  “And what have you done?”

  The priest asked, his tone careful.

  

  “Well… earlier, I went and wiped out an entire goblin village. The total was… four hundred and ninety-six.”

  The priest fell silent for a split second—then blurted out:

  

  “Mm… your sins are… wait what did you just say? How many?”

  “Four hundred and ninety-six.”

  

  “Haaah… four hundred and ninety-six?”

  The priest let out a long, heavy sigh.

  

  “Your sin… hmm… that’s a difficult one. Killing monsters may not be considered a sin in the strictest sense, but nearly five hundred…Even I have never encountered a confession like this.”

  He paused, as if searching for the least impossible answer.

  

  “Let the past be the past.Focus on doing good. And don’t neglect your prayers.”

  

  “Yes… Father.”

  Earp walked out of the church with the same blank, composed expression as always. Afternoon light poured through the stained-glass windows, painting soft colors across the stone. He decided to head to the market to pick up a few small things.

  

  “Auntie… how much is one apple?”

  He asked with a bright smile, his voice gentle and friendly.

  But what the vendor saw wasn’t a polite boy at all—

  it was an assassin whose casual glance seemed to say:

  

  “Apple or die?”

  The auntie flinched and blurted out at once.

  

  “Take it, dear! Here, take it! No need to buy take as many as you want!”

  Earp beamed. But out of consideration, he only took one apple and moved on.

  He passed a stall where a crowd had gathered for a short-knife demonstration. The seller raised a blade and kept talking, hyping it up.

  Earp murmured quietly—so softly it was almost carried away by the wind—

  yet somehow it still cut through the air for everyone nearby.

  

  “No need to buy one, I guess… I can just ask Valda to make me one.”

  The entire crowd turned to stare.

  And what they heard was:

  

  “I don’t even need a knife to kill everyone here.”

  Silence snapped into place instantly. Sweat beaded. Faces went stiff. People backed away as fast as they could manage.

  Earp left the market and returned to his lodging.

  The lobby was loud—cheers, laughter, storytellers performing for drinks. The place felt alive. He smiled at the scene and said as he walked through the crowd:

  

  “You all look like you’re having a great time.”

  But his words landed like a warning. The room went dead quiet. No one dared meet his eyes. His harmless comment somehow translated into an order:

  

  “I’m going upstairs to sleep. Anyone who stays loud… dies.”

  Even though he didn’t mean anything cruel at all.

  He’d simply noticed how lively everyone seemed today… then went up to his room to rest.

  For the three days we stayed in Freyja, my routine was pretty simple:

  go to the church, sit and pray, step out to buy a little something, then return to my room—over and over. Heh… it doesn’t sound exciting, does it? Not compared to the rest of the party, who spent their time doing noisy things—drinking, laughing, or arguing hard enough to make the floor shake.

  But for me, this was more than enough.

  Being with this party makes me feel more alive than I ever have. Before this, my life was nothing but serious assassination work. But after meeting this group… there’s laughter. There are moments that make my head hurt—in a strange way. And there’s a warmth I’d never touched before.

  Oh—if anyone’s wondering, “Doesn’t your family come looking for you?”

  The answer is: they don’t.

  In the Ripper family, once you’re old enough to take missions, there’s no need to return home. Whether you stay, vanish, or go anywhere… that’s your own problem.

  Besides…

  I think that if I’m a good kid, speak politely, and treat everyone kindly…

  then no one would ever think badly of me, right?

  See you again next chapter!