An Extra’s Rise in an Eroge

As I walked deeper into the slums, disappointment settled in. The people here weren't just down on their luck—they looked utterly defeated. Heads hung low, shoulders slouched, and every movement screamed caution. It wasn't the kind of careful you'd expect from someone minding their step; it was fear, plain and simple.

These people weren't glaring or plotting. No, their eyes darted around, full of worry. They weren't scared of me personally—they were scared of what might happen if they so much as brushed against someone like me. Messing with a noble in this city was the fastest way to ruin their already miserable lives, and they all seemed to know it.

"This place feels like a whole other world compared to the commercial district," Alicia said, her voice tinged with disbelief. She glanced at me, her expression questioning. "How can you call these people sinister? They just look like they're barely hanging on."

I didn't bother arguing with her. "You'll see for yourself soon enough," I said, keeping my tone neutral.

Eveline and Althea, on the other hand, were nowhere to be seen—they'd already charged ahead like the naive do-gooders they were. Alicia groaned.

"Hah, so much for my plan. This whole thing's gone sideways," she muttered.

"Still stuck on that?" I smirked. "I told you, I don't need a plan to win her over. Give me a week, and she'll be all mine."

"Sure, sure," Alicia said, rolling her eyes. "Stop bragging and pick up the pace. They're already out of sight." She didn't wait for me to respond, picking up speed.

"Stubborn as ever," I muttered under my breath and followed her.

As we walked, I noticed how the slum residents reacted to us. They didn't beg, they didn't approach—they didn't even make eye contact for more than a second. Instead, they moved out of the way like we were carrying the plague. There was no desperation, just quiet avoidance.

They weren't stupid. They could tell we didn't belong here. The way we dressed, the way we carried ourselves—it all screamed privilege. And they knew better than to mess with someone who could bring the wrath of the city down on them with a single word.

The deeper we went, the heavier the air felt. The streets got narrower, the buildings more rundown. Conversations dropped to whispers as we passed, and every pair of eyes that glanced our way quickly looked elsewhere.

The deeper we ventured, the atmosphere became stifling. The streets narrowed to tight alleyways, and the buildings looked like they might collapse if a strong wind blew through. The whispers grew quieter as more eyes darted toward us, only to quickly look away again.

Then, up ahead, there was a commotion—a gathering of people. It wasn't the usual chaos of the slums; this was different. In the center of the crowd stood someone who didn't belong here, her clean, well-kept appearance making her stand out like a beacon.

"Who else could it be but the naïve saintess, Eveline... and Althea," I muttered, shaking my head.

Alicia sighed. "Figures they'd cause a scene this fast."

Eveline was already at work, offering healing and handing out food. The crowd surrounding her eagerly jostled for position, their voices rising as they vied for her attention. It was easy to see why she might prefer to do this quietly—this wasn't some random act of charity. Judging by how naturally the people reacted, it was obvious she'd been here before.

'Wait a minute,' I thought, frowning. 'Didn't she act like this was her first time seeing the slums back in the carriage?'

Suddenly, Sol materialized on my shoulder, his usual smirk replaced with a look of disdain.

[These people are just trash,] Sol said, his tone laced with irritation.

I blinked. 'What's your problem now?'

[Look at them, Arthur. These people aren't desperate; they're opportunists. They've clearly done this before—taking advantage of the saintess's kindness like clockwork. Do you think it's normal for a crowd like this to gather in less than five minutes?]

I glanced at the crowd again, this time paying closer attention. Sol wasn't wrong. There was an unsettling efficiency to how they moved, each person pushing to get a better share. They didn't look starved or weak; in fact, some of them seemed surprisingly spry for people supposedly down on their luck.

'Huh... You might be onto something,' I admitted, my gaze narrowing.

[Exactly. If they have this much energy to hustle for handouts, they could put it to use finding work instead of wallowing in pity,] Sol added.

'What can I say?' I replied with a shrug. 'They've probably gotten used to living off other people's pity. It's easier than doing something for themselves.'

Sol snorted. [Pathetic.]

As I moved closer to Eveline, the mood around us shifted noticeably. The once eager crowd turned wary, their eyes filled with unease as they noticed me. The lively buzz of conversation dropped to a hushed murmur.

I ignored them and focused on Eveline. "They seem pretty familiar with this setup. Have you been here before?"

Eveline looked up from her work, startled by my question. "Ah—no, not me specifically. But the church often distributes supplies to the poor. They probably recognized the emblem," she said, gesturing to her attire.

"How often does the church do this?" I pressed, my curiosity edging toward irritation.

"Twice a week," Eveline replied with a smile, holding up a small pouch. "This storage bag holds the rations we distribute. It's my turn to handle it this week."

I raised an eyebrow. "So, you're saying that every week, these people get free food and healing—twice?"

"Yes," she answered casually, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

My patience snapped. The word slipped out before I could stop myself. "Trash."

The atmosphere became even heavier. Eveline spun toward me, her eyes wide with a mix of shock and anger. "Arthur! What did you just say?"

Around us, the crowd began to stir, muttering amongst themselves. Some of them voiced their indignation.

"You should apologize!" one of them shouted, trying to fan the flames of Eveline's reaction.

Another chimed in. "Yeah, you can't just insult us like that!"

I couldn't help it; a bitter laugh escaped me. "Hahaha."

"A-Arthur?" Eveline's concern deepened, her voice faltering.

I took a moment to collect myself, then glanced at her with a dry smile. "I'm sorry, Eveline. It's just funny—how these people cling to you like they're entitled to your charity. Can't you see it? They're not helpless. They're just lazy. They take and take, giving nothing in return. They're no better than parasites."

"W-what? Take that back, Arthur. You know that's not true!" Eveline protested, her voice trembling with a mix of anger and disbelief.

"I won't take it back," I replied firmly, my tone leaving no room for argument.

"Excuse me?" Eveline's shock turned to indignation.

"Trust me, saintess," I continued, my gaze unwavering. "The moment you leave this place is the moment they return to their lazy and toxic lives. They might thank you now, maybe even promise to change, but let's be honest—deep down, even you know they won't."

Eveline's expression hardened, her voice rising. "There are things you should and shouldn't say, brother. You don't know anything about this place or the circumstances of these people! Just because you have food on your table and wear finer clothes doesn't give you the right to criticize them." Your journey continues on empire

I paused, letting her words hang in the air. She took my silence as a sign of reflection and pressed on, her voice swelling with conviction.

"No one is here because they want to be," she said firmly. "They all have their reasons—war, poverty, tragedies beyond their control. Some were even born into this misery. Of course, someone like you, born with talent and privilege, wouldn't understand their struggles. But that doesn't mean you have the right to judge them!"

I couldn't help it—I laughed. A sharp, dry chuckle that cut through her impassioned words.

"Haha, that's funny," I said, shaking my head.

"Sorry?" Eveline's eyes widened in confusion. "What's funny about this?"

I scanned the faces of the people surrounding her. Their expressions shifted uneasily, and as my gaze met theirs, they quickly looked away. A smirk formed on my lips.

"All I see here are people who've given up, plain and simple," I said, my voice calm but cutting. "These aren't victims of circumstance anymore; they're people who've chosen to survive like this. Sure, you could argue the kids are innocent, but even you know that in a few years, they'll be no different from the ones clinging to you now, crying and begging with their fake tears."

"That's not true!" Eveline shot back, her voice wavering. "They just..." She trailed off, unable to finish her sentence.

"Arthur! Enough!" Alicia stepped in, grabbing my arm, her tone sharp.

"No, it's not enough," I said, shrugging off her grip. My eyes met hers, unyielding. "You should listen too. You're just as naïve as she is. Sheltered. Blind to reality."