Extra's Path To No Harem

After putting Bane back to sleep, I returned to that godforsaken back alley.

The moment I stepped inside, I felt it—eyes crawling over me from every direction. From the shadows, from behind broken crates, from the cracked windows above.

But the instant they recognized my face, those gazes scattered.

Like cockroaches exposed to light.

…Disgusting bastards.

These people were no different from hyenas. They lingered on the outskirts, waiting patiently for weakness, ready to tear someone apart the moment blood was spilled. I'd only been dealing with them for a week, yet that was more than enough to understand just how vicious—and repulsive—they were.

The alley reeked of rot and desperation.

And yet, this place was useful.

The reason I planned to devour this entire district wasn't born from some lofty ideal or sense of justice. Nothing so noble.

The truth was simple: right now, I lacked the means to properly hunt down Bane's remaining gang members. They were scattered, hiding like rats in the cracks of the city, blending into places the authorities never touched.

But if I swallowed this underworld whole?

That changed everything.

These back alleys were home to beasts—people accustomed to crime in all its forms. Smugglers, information brokers, extortionists, thieves. Filth, yes—but filth with eyes and ears everywhere.

If I controlled them, finding Bane's people would become easy.

Of course, if his comrades buried themselves deep enough, even that might not be enough. But I wasn't walking in blind.

I'd already squeezed Bane dry.

Information, routes, safe houses, contacts—he'd spilled everything.

All I had to do was promise him one thing.

Sleep.

A dream he could escape into.

"Tsk… tsk."

I clicked my tongue as I walked deeper into the alley, the sound echoing faintly off damp stone walls.

So much for the resolve of a man who claimed he wanted revolution.

In the end, he wasn't much different from the rest of them. Another desperate soul clinging to a fantasy when reality became unbearable.

I have information.

And with that information, I can unite every force available and bring them down in one sweep.

It's the only move that makes sense.

If I capture Bane—along with all his underlings—and personally hand them over to the Imperial Family, there's a chance I'll be granted leniency. Not mercy, perhaps, but enough to survive. Enough to crawl out of this miserable hole I've been trapped in.

If Bane were acting alone, the situation would be far more dangerous. A lone extremist could easily become a symbol—a spark that ignites revolution. Someone the masses could romanticize.

But an organization?

That changes everything.

If it's exposed that this was a coordinated crime carried out by a structured group, then it's no longer dissent. It's treason.

Clear. Unambiguous. Unforgivable.

Once it's labeled as treason, the public won't mourn them. Even if every single one of them is executed, no one will dare protest. The Empire will crush them, and history will move on as if they never existed.

From what I've gathered, the Imperial Family has already rounded up most of the minor accomplices. The small fry. The disposable pieces.

But those people don't matter.

Lackeys never have proper evidence. They don't know enough. And even if they do, their words hold no weight.

What matters are the leaders.

The ones who planned it.

The ones who gave the orders.

The ones who believed they could challenge the Empire and get away with it.

If I bring them in, everything changes.

The charges will be solid. The narrative will be complete. And in the process, I can finally rid myself of this tiresome life of scraping by, constantly looking over my shoulder, never knowing when the next misfortune will strike.

Good.

Perfect.

I let out a slow breath, my fingers tightening unconsciously.

Now that the plan is in place, there's no reason to hesitate.

The board has been set. The pieces are in motion.

All that's left…

Is to execute it.

I walked forward without hesitation.

My destination was clear—Kelkani's mansion.

BANG!

The door flew off its hinges as I kicked it open.

"Long time no see, you bastards!"

"Y–you…!!"

Feiz's eyes went wide the instant he saw my face. For a split second, his brain clearly failed to catch up with reality.

Yeah. Nice to see you too.

When I smiled brightly at him, the shock on his face twisted into something far uglier—rage mixed with fear.

Tch. Still wearing that disgusting expression, I see.

"Why are you back here after killing our boss?!" Feiz shouted.

"Why?" I tilted my head slightly. "Obviously because I have business here."

Feiz pulled out a knife and held it out in front of him, his grip trembling just slightly.

…That knife.

Wasn't that Kelkani's?

I remembered how Feiz had been sobbing like a child when Kelkani died, screaming about loyalty and revenge.

Looks like those tears dried up fast.

While mourning his boss, he must've helped himself to all of Kelkani's belongings.

Figures.

Back-alley thugs never had loyalty to begin with. I never expected otherwise.

Anyone who truly believed in loyalty or justice would've been dead long before climbing this far in the underworld.

"You've got some nerve showing your face here again," Feiz snarled. "Do you want to die?"

I snorted at the threat.

"Relax," I said lightly. "If I wanted you dead, you wouldn't even be standing here."

…But it was clear he wasn't listening to a single word.

The finger pointing at me trembled uncontrollably, the tip shaking so hard it looked like it might snap. His breathing was shallow, uneven—pure fear written all over his face.

He's terrified.

Well, that was understandable. Feiz knew exactly what I was capable of. Anyone in his position would be nervous.

Still, the only reason he hadn't bolted already was because his subordinates were watching. Pride—or maybe desperation—was the only thing keeping his feet rooted to the ground.

After a brief pause, I straightened and spoke again.

"Alright. You pass."

"…What?"

Feiz stumbled back a step, eyes wide with confusion.

His reaction actually made me reassess him a little.

Good. That hesitation. That uncertainty.

At least he wasn't groveling.

He was already leagues better than Kelkani—the fool who begged for his life and then, in a final burst of stupidity, leapt off a building to his own death.

At the very least, Feiz wasn't pitiful.

"Hey, Feiz," I said casually. "Don't you want to live a better life?"

"…What are you talking about all of a sudden?"

His voice was wary now, suspicion mixing with fear.

"Don't you want to climb higher?" I continued. "Move up in the world. Stop scraping by at the bottom."

"…"

He didn't answer, but I could see it in his eyes.

Interest.

Feiz swallowed, clearly struggling to understand where this was going. I took a step closer, lowering my voice so only he could hear me.

"Let's work on something together."

His body stiffened.

I leaned in just a little more, my tone calm—almost friendly.

"I'm not here to crush you. I'm offering you an opportunity. One that doesn't come twice."

"…And why," Feiz asked slowly, "would someone like you need someone like me?"

A good question.

I smiled.

"Because you're scared—but you're not stupid," I replied. "And people like that know how to survive."

I straightened, giving him space again.

"You can walk away right now," I added. "Go back to the way things were. Always looking over your shoulder. Always one mistake away from disappearing."

His fists clenched.

"Or," I said softly, "you can listen."

The silence stretched between us.

Feiz didn't lower his hand.

But he didn't pull it back either.

And that told me everything I needed to know.

I had his attention.

----

"Aaaaargh!!"

A scream tore through the slums.

The back alleys—usually drowned in silence and rot, where despair clung to the air like damp fog—were suddenly transformed into a living hell. Steel clashed. Blood splattered against cracked stone walls. Bodies collapsed one after another as armed men flooded the narrow streets.

"Feiz, you son of a bitch!! What the hell do you think you're doing?!"

A burly man roared as he staggered backward, his eyes wide with disbelief.

Around him, his subordinates were already being cut down. Some were trampled underfoot. Others fell clutching their throats, choking on their own blood. The ground was slick with red.

Feiz stood at the center of the chaos, utterly relaxed.

He brushed a speck of blood from his coat and smiled.

"Isn't it obvious?" he said lightly. "I'm reorganizing the power structure."

"You crazy bastard!" the man shouted. "Did you lose your mind after Kelkani died?! You're breaking the unwritten rules of the back alleys!"

Feiz tilted his head, as if genuinely puzzled.

"Unwritten rules?" he echoed. "Where exactly are those written?"

His smile widened—slow, cruel, amused.

"This place has never run on rules," he continued. "Only on strength."

The burly man's face twisted in fury as another of his men screamed and fell behind him.

"You think this will end well for you?" he snarled. "You'll pay for this. Every gang in the slums will come for your head."

"Heh." Feiz let out a quiet chuckle. "I doubt it."

Before the man could react, Feiz raised a hand.

In an instant, one of Feiz's subordinates lunged forward, blade flashing.

"Aaaaargh!!!"

The scream was cut short as the burly man collapsed to his knees, blood pouring from a deep gash across his chest. He tried to speak, but only a wet, gurgling sound escaped his lips before he fell face-first into the filth.

Feiz stepped over the body without a second glance.