Extra's Path To No Harem

I learned one thing during my week in this godforsaken back alley.

If you're going to stomp someone, you have to do it thoroughly.

Half-measures only invite retaliation.

"Aaaaargh!! Please—please spare me! I beg you!!"

"My, my. Such dramatics," I said calmly. "Didn't I already tell you? I'm not going to kill you."

"It hurts!! It hurts like I'm dying!!"

The warehouse floor was a mess. Groaning bodies sprawled in every direction, some clutching their sides, others curled up and trembling.

I pressed my foot down a little harder on the broken arm of the one who seemed to be their leader.

Crack.

His scream climbed an octave.

Honestly, the noise was impressive.

"You're making a fuss over a few broken bones," I muttered. "When you were perfectly fine trying to kill me earlier."

The leader thrashed weakly, tears streaming down his face as snot bubbled out of his nose. Pathetic.

Not only had I spared their lives, but I'd even made sure none of their injuries were fatal. And yet here they were, screaming like I'd committed some great injustice.

The nerve of them.

If it were me, I would've clenched my teeth and endured it in silence—even if the pain was enough to knock me out cold. Survival comes first. Pride comes later.

These men came here fully intending to murder me. They sharpened their blades, planned their ambush, and pulled the trigger first.

So why should I show mercy?

Just thinking about it again made my blood boil.

Fucking Bastards.

…Ah.

I clicked my tongue quietly. I'd let something uncouth slip again.

I took a slow breath and lifted my foot off the leader's arm. He collapsed limply, sobbing and gasping for air like a fish dragged onto land.

The back alley itself isn't bad.

The real problem is this.

Getting tangled up with these kinds of people over and over again.

Because of them, my language has gotten rougher. My temper shorter. In just one week, my personality has noticeably shifted in a more aggressive direction—and I can say with confidence that it's entirely their fault.

"Aaaaargh!!"

I pressed my foot down harder, channeling all my irritation into the motion.

He screamed like a slaughtered pig, thrashing beneath me, his voice echoing off the narrow brick walls. Honestly, it was excessive.

After writhing in agony for what felt like forever, his eyes finally rolled back, foam bubbling at his lips before his body went limp.

He passed out.

…Finally.

Silence. Blessed silence.

I exhaled slowly and stepped back.

"I was actually being gentle," I muttered to myself.

I really was. I still had questions I wanted to ask, after all. But watching a grown man flail around and scream like that was starting to get on my nerves.

I couldn't take it anymore.

Can't be helped.

I turned away from the unconscious one and faced the other man slumped against the wall.

"Hey," I said calmly. "I know you're conscious. Get up. Now."

No response.

His eyes were shut tight, his breathing deliberately shallow. An amateur act.

I sighed and crossed my arms. "I'll give you three seconds."

I raised a finger.

"Three."

Nothing.

"Two—"

"I-I'M SORRY!!!"

He practically launched himself upright, scrambling backward until his spine hit the wall with a dull thud. His hands flew up defensively, palms out, eyes wide with terror.

"I didn't do anything! I swear! I was just watching! I didn't even touch anyone!"

I stared at him for a moment.

Then I glanced down at his companion, still unconscious on the ground, and back at him.

"…Watching," I repeated flatly.

He nodded so hard I thought his neck might snap. "Y-Yes! Watching only! I tried to stop him, even! I really did!"

A blatant lie.

But right now, honesty mattered less than usefulness.

I crouched down until we were at eye level.

The moment I did, he flinched violently and smacked the back of his head against the wall again.

"Relax," I said calmly. "If I wanted you unconscious too, you already would be."

That didn't seem to reassure him in the slightest.

"Now," I continued, letting my voice cool, "you're going to answer a few questions. And depending on your answers, you might walk away on your own two legs."

He swallowed hard, Adam's apple bobbing.

"A—Anything. I'll tell you anything!"

Good.

That was always how it started.

I straightened and casually spun my sword once in my hand, letting the blade hum softly as it cut through the air. I made sure my expression stayed cold—emotionless.

"Who was it?"

"P-Pardon…?" His eyes darted everywhere except my face.

"Don't play dumb," I said flatly. "Who ordered you to take me down?"

"W-well… haha…" He let out a strained, broken laugh, clearly trying to buy time.

That was exactly why I hadn't knocked him out earlier.

These people were disposable muscle—thugs didn't act on their own. Someone had paid them. Someone had pointed them at me.

I stepped closer.

His breathing grew shallow, frantic.

I grabbed a fistful of his hair and yanked his head back without warning.

Crack.

"Aaagh!" he screamed, his body convulsing as strands of hair tore free in my hand.

"I'll ask one last time," I said quietly, my voice low enough that it barely sounded like a threat. "Who was it?"

He thrashed weakly, hands clawing at my wrist. I didn't loosen my grip. Instead, I drew a dagger with my free hand and pressed the cold edge lightly against his throat.

Just enough for him to feel it.

"Eek—!"

A thin line of red appeared where the blade touched his skin. His eyes widened, pupils shaking violently.

Fear is the most efficient language there is.

No threats, no long speeches—just a clear reminder that your life can end at any moment. When people understand that, lies lose their value.

As soon as the cold edge of my blade brushed against his neck, the thug's resistance collapsed completely.

"K–Kelkani! It was Kelkani! He ordered us!"

…Kelkani?

My hand paused for a fraction of a second.

"The bald guy?" I asked calmly. "Always reeks of smoke?"

"Y–yes! That's him!"

The answer came too quickly, too desperately.

I pulled the blade back slightly, just enough to keep him breathing, and took a moment to sort through the noise in my head.

That doesn't make sense.

It can't be Kelkani.

"No," I said flatly.

"H–huh?"

"The one who hired you wasn't Kelkani."

The thug swallowed hard. "W–why… why do you think that?"

Why?

Because Kelkani is already dead.

"Because he's not alive anymore."

Silence.

"What…?" His eyes widened. "Kelkani's dead? That's impossible! I saw him just yesterday—he was alive! He was—wait—then how do you know that?!"

His words started tumbling over each other, panic making his voice shrill.

How does a filthy beggar know something like that?

How could someone like me say it so confidently?

I leaned closer, letting him see my face clearly in the dim light.

"I know," I said quietly, "because I killed him."

The color drained from his face.

"Y–you…?"

"That's… that's impossible…" the thug whispered, shaking. "Then… then who—?"

"Think," I interrupted, pressing the blade back against his skin. "Who told you it was Kelkani?"

"I—I don't know! He wore a cloak! He just said he was acting on Kelkani's orders!"

There it is.

Someone using a dead man's name.

A convenient scapegoat.

I exhaled slowly, the pieces clicking together in my mind.

"So someone resurrected a ghost," I muttered. "Or at least pretended to."

My grip tightened.

"If you're lying," I warned softly, "you won't feel the blade. You'll just feel nothing."

"N–no! I swear! That's everything I know!"

I stared at him for a long moment, then finally withdrew my sword.

This was worse than I thought.

Kelkani wasn't the mastermind. He was the mask.

And whoever was hiding behind it knew exactly what they were doing.

*

A week.

That was all it took.

Just seven days—enough time for countless things to change.

Enough time for a former noble, once wrapped in comfort and status, to become a whispered name in the back alleys. A wanted man hiding among filth and shadows.

After my name was placed on the list, I slipped into this place using concealment magic.

An alley the Empire had long since abandoned.

A maze of crumbling buildings and narrow passageways, overflowing with vagrants, smugglers, and criminals who lived by their own rules—or no rules at all.

Illegal deals happened in broad daylight. Screams in the night were ignored. This wasn't just a dangerous district. It was a lawless zone, quietly written off as a necessary loss.

And the moment I set foot here, reality welcomed me without mercy.

The first few days were hell.

The instant I relaxed my guard, someone tried to rob me.

Once, twice—too many times to count. Knives flashed in the dark. Hands reached from behind. Even sleep became a luxury I had to steal in short, broken intervals.

Money meant almost nothing here.

Even when I had coins, all I could buy was bread so hard it scraped my throat raw. Water that tasted of rust. Meals that barely qualified as food.

It didn't take long for my body to understand what my mind refused to accept.

Everything I'd enjoyed until now had been a luxury.

The warm meals at the academy.

Clean bedsheets.

People who bowed politely and called me "Lord."

I had always believed this world was peaceful. That life here, even outside the academy, was livable.

Because the world I'd seen was full of light.

After possessing the body of a noble, I lived inside safe walls, surrounded by order and abundance. I studied in well-equipped classrooms, trained under professors, and walked streets protected by guards.

I never had to look beyond that.

So I didn't.

I had vaguely assumed that, since this was a fantasy world from a webtoon, everyone must be living more or less happily.

But those scenes were never shown.

The starving children.

The men who sold their dignity just to survive another day.

The women who learned to smile while hiding knives behind their backs.

The webtoon didn't need them. And neither did I—until now.

Only after being cast into this place did I finally understand.

This world wasn't cruel because it was broken.

It was cruel because it worked exactly as intended.

The light existed because somewhere else, darkness was being ignored.

I hadn't fallen into a worse world.

I had simply fallen into the part of it I'd never been meant to see.