Extra's Path To No Harem

Just recently, when I passed through this place to rescue Lisa, all I noticed was the poverty.

Back then, it felt distant—something I could observe from the outside and leave behind once my business was done.

But now that I'd truly stepped into the middle of their lives, the reality was nothing like I had imagined.

…Is this really a place where people live?

The question surfaced again and again as I walked through the slum.

The neighborhood was so wretched it made the concept of "daily life" feel unreal. Several people died of starvation every single day. No one even bothered to count them anymore.

Here, the weak losing what little they had to the wicked wasn't a tragedy—it was simply how things worked.

Acts that would be unforgivable crimes elsewhere happened here with disturbing regularity.

Murder.

Rape.

Violence.

Drugs.

All of it blended into the background, treated as nothing more than part of the routine. No outrage. No justice. Just survival.

And in the deepest shadow of this slum—far from the main paths, far from even the faintest sense of order—there was an underground room.

Creeeeak.

The tightly sealed door protested as I pushed it open and stepped inside.

This was a place where not a single ray of sunlight could reach, even at noon. The air was thick, heavy, carrying the stale scent of damp earth and something far worse—something rotten.

I activated the magic lantern I'd brought with me.

A soft glow spilled out, pushing back the darkness just enough to reveal what lay within.

"..."

Soon, the interior of the room came fully into view.

It was completely empty—no furniture, no windows, no decoration of any kind. Just bare stone walls swallowing up all light and sound.

At the very center sat a man bound to a chair.

"Mmph…!"

The moment I stepped inside, his body jerked violently, as if my presence alone had sent a shock through him.

It was Bane.

"Looks like you're awake," I said calmly. "Can you hear me?"

Nod. Nod. Nod.

He nodded so hard it looked like his neck might snap.

I dragged a chair from the corner of the room and sat down in front of him, making sure we were at eye level.

"Haah—! Haah…!"

The instant I removed the gag from his mouth, Bane sucked in air greedily, gasping like a drowning man who had finally surfaced.

"Please…! Please—put me back to sleep right now…!!"

That was the first thing he said.

Not a denial.

Not a threat.

Not even a plea for mercy.

He wanted to sleep again.

His eyes were bloodshot, unfocused, trembling as they locked onto mine. Tears streamed down his face as he spoke, his voice cracking and hoarse.

Watching him beg so desperately, half out of his mind, I fell into silence.

…How did it come to this?

This wasn't what I had planned. Not really.

The human mind is far more fragile than most people realize. Lock someone away in complete darkness—no light, no sound, no sense of time—and they'll start to break in just a few days.

That was precisely why I hadn't done that.

Instead, I'd chosen a different method.

The Dream Orb.

Rather than leaving him alone with nothing but his thoughts, I made him dream.

Endlessly.

While his body remained bound here, his mind wandered through carefully crafted dreams—some pleasant, some neutral, some… not so much.

I guided them gently at first, letting him believe he was free, that he'd escaped, that everything had returned to normal.

And then, little by little, I added effort.

To give him the happiest, most perfect dream imaginable—one where nothing was lacking, where every regret was erased.

That had been my intention.

But—

"Hurry up and send me back!! My wife—Rain—she's waiting for me!!"

…It turned out to be a terrible choice.

After tasting a dream that sweet, Bane began to cling to it with frightening intensity.

Whenever I dragged him back to reality, even briefly, just to talk or check on his condition, his behavior grew worse. Restless. Irritable. Desperate.

Like an addict deprived of his drug.

"First, eat this," I said firmly. "Then I'll let you dream again."

"Then give it to me already!" he shouted. "Hurry up!!"

"Yeah, yeah, I get it. Just stop yelling, you bastard…"

At this rate, my ears really were going to fall off.

I pulled a small pill from my pocket, carefully keeping it out of reach as Bane thrashed and reached for it with trembling hands.

The pill's name was Unibeat.

These days, it was widespread among slum dwellers—a cheap, mass-produced drug that provided the bare minimum nutrients needed to keep a human body alive. Nothing more, nothing less.

It tasted awful, had lingering side effects, and left you feeling hollow afterward—but in situations like this, where proper food was hard to come by, it was invaluable.

"Open your mouth," I said.

Gulp.

The moment I brought it close, Bane swallowed the pill without hesitation, like someone who'd done it countless times before.

"…You really are used to this," I muttered.

His throat bobbed as he swallowed, and for a brief moment, his frantic breathing slowed. The tension in his shoulders eased just a little.

"Now," he said hoarsely, eyes burning as he grabbed my sleeve, "send me back."

I looked at him. Really looked at him.

His body was thin—too thin—like it had been worn down over time rather than starved all at once. His cheeks were hollow, his skin pale, and deep shadows clung stubbornly beneath his eyes. He looked sickly, fragile, like someone who might collapse if a strong wind blew his way.

And yet—

When he spoke about that dream… about them…

There was light in his voice.

Too much light for someone in his condition.

It was unsettling.

"That's done now, right? So hurry…!"

Bane urged me the moment he finished eating the Unibeat, his fingers twitching restlessly as if his mind refused to stay still.

"Alright. Just wait a moment," I replied quietly.

I placed my hand on his head and activated my ability.

The flow of magic was gentle, barely a ripple—but the instant Bane sensed it, his tense body relaxed. His eyelids fluttered once, twice, and then he slumped backward, falling into a deep, unnatural sleep.

I caught him before his head hit the ground and gently laid him down.

Looking at Bane now, sleeping so peacefully, you'd never guess how much chaos he carried with him.

I let out a small sigh.

"…You're nothing but trouble."

At this point, handing Bane over to the imperial family was no longer an option.

If I did, they wouldn't hesitate. There would be no interrogation, no trial—just a quiet execution buried beneath official paperwork.

And if that happened…

The fragile calm that had finally settled over the city would shatter instantly. The resentment, the anger, the distrust—everything would flare up again, worse than before.

But I couldn't keep hiding him forever either.

Every day his condition worsened. His body was deteriorating faster than I'd anticipated, as if whatever sustained him was burning through his life itself.

I clenched my fist.

I need to do something.

But what I can do right now is painfully limited. I don't have authority. I don't have legitimacy. And I certainly don't have the luxury of time.

"…I guess there's no other answer."

Seeing Bane like this today made one thing painfully clear—

I don't have much time left.

I'd been avoiding this conclusion. Delaying it. Pretending there might be another way.

But there isn't.

The time has finally come to move.

To stop reacting—and start taking control.

Slowly, my gaze drifted toward the darkened window, where the distant glow of lanterns marked the labyrinth of alleyways beyond.

The back alley.

A place ruled by filth, fear, and nameless scum. A breeding ground for gangs, smugglers, and shadows that the law refused to acknowledge.

If I wanted to protect myself…

If I wanted to prevent this city from tearing itself apart again…

Then I needed power.

Real power.

"I'll have to devour the entire back alley," I muttered.

Not negotiate with it.

Not clean it up.

Devour it.

Take everything—territory, influence, information—and grind it down until nothing moved without my permission.

I straightened, resolve settling heavily in my chest.

It was time.

Time to stop lurking in the shadows.

Time to stop pretending I was just another player.

If this damned neighborhood needed a ruler—

Then I would become its king.

The back alley didn't change overnight.

It was still filthy. Still reeked of rot, cheap alcohol, and desperation. Lantern light barely reached the ground, swallowed by crooked buildings that leaned in like they were listening.

But I had changed.

I walked through the narrow passage without hiding my presence. No hood. No attempt to blend in. Just steady footsteps echoing against damp stone.

That alone was enough to draw eyes.

Whispers spread first—soft, uncertain. Then came the stares.

"That's him…"

"Isn't that—"

"The one from the broadcast?"

I ignored them all.

Power doesn't announce itself with words. It announces itself by not caring who's watching.