I Became the Black Knight

Dale spoke to the woman who had started cursing out of nowhere.

"Your mouth is quite foul."

"So what? Did you contribute anything to the way I talk?"

Well, well.

The red-haired woman, still squatting, shot back at him with a crooked sneer.

It wasn't easy to speak to Dale like that.

She seemed to have guts — or maybe she had just given up on everything.

Staring blankly at Dale, who was quietly looking down at her, the woman asked bluntly,

"Why are you here?"

Matching her rude attitude, Dale responded curtly,

"Why else? I came to rent a room."

"Well, I guess that makes sense. But that's not gonna happen."

"Because I'm a Black Knight?"

"That too. But look at this mess — how am I supposed to rent out a room in this situation?"

The woman raised a finger and pointed around. The commotion was growing more intense by the minute. Tables and chairs were flying, and glass cups shattered loudly as they hit the floor.

The drunkards were acting as if their goal was to completely destroy the inn.

'Now I see—they're a group.'

They weren't just regular drunkards; they were more like a band of thieves or a gang of mercenaries.

That kind of crowd usually expressed their dissatisfaction in just this sort of way.

Tired of it all, the woman buried her head back into her knees.

"Maybe I should just go die or something."

Dale asked,

"Is it like this every day?"

"It's been a while since cleaning up broken furniture in the morning became part of my daily routine."

"Call the guards."

"You think I haven't tried? Do I look that stupid to you?"

"..."

The woman, who had snapped sharply before, let out a deep sigh and apologized.

"Sorry. I took it out on the wrong person."

"It doesn't matter."

"Telling the guards is useless. They just stroll in, laugh around after taking bribes from these bastards, then disappear. After that, I get revenge taken on me, lose money, too. Ugh, why am I even telling all this to someone I just met?"

Muttering self-deprecatingly, the woman waved her hand dismissively.

"So go look somewhere else."

"That's troublesome. I came because I heard this place accepts anyone as long as they pay."

"That was my father's motto. He died sticking to that damn policy, and now the inn's a wreck because of it."

So she wasn't just a waitress—she was the owner.

Dale looked around briefly, then asked in a detached tone,

"So basically, you're saying you can't take me in because of those bastards?"

"Yes, well… Unless you plan to clean them up?"

"I'll do that."

"Yeah, of course, you'd—wait, what?"

The woman quickly lifted her head. Dale met her gaze and spoke.

"I'll take care of all of them. In return, I want fifteen days of free lodging. Do we have a deal?"

"F-Fifteen days is too much. Let's make it ten. In return, I'll provide hot water every day."

Dale chuckled faintly. Bargaining over prices even in a situation like this—she was clearly not someone who would ever starve.

But he didn't go easy on her.

"Fifteen days. And hot water included."

"Wait, what? That's even worse than before. What kind of negotiation is this?"

"It's for the way you cursed at me. If it's unfair, get stronger."

"Hah."

Clicking her tongue in disbelief, the woman finally nodded. It wasn't like she had any better options.

"Dale."

"...Kayla. I'm Kayla, daughter of Siger. But you're joking, right? They've got the numbers..."

Kayla was a woman who knew little about fighting.

She didn't know that there are battles you can still win, no matter how outnumbered you are.

Dale raised his index finger and pointed behind him.

"Step aside," Dale said firmly.

"Uh, well… if you say so… Ah! But don't kill them! If anyone dies, the city guards won't stay quiet. Unless you plan to hide the bodies entirely…"

"That might be a problem."

Dale, who had been reaching for his warhammer, hesitated.

He had planned to test out the new weapon and break it in properly.

'No helping it, I suppose.'

You can't always fight to kill.

While the instincts of a Black Knight deeply regretted this, his human side was rather relieved.

Dale stepped forward.

The drunken men were still wreaking havoc. No one paid any attention to him.

Just then, one of them stumbled backward—straight into Dale's chestplate.

"The hell—who the fuck—huh?"

The drunkard froze when he saw Dale.

It seemed like his mind couldn't quite grasp what was happening—probably because he was too intoxicated.

Dale decided to help him sober up a little.

"Uhh…?"

With one hand, Dale grabbed the drunkard by the collar and lifted him up.

The man flailed wildly, trying to escape, but his struggles were completely useless.

Then, Dale extended his arm and hurled the man forward with all his strength.

"Waaaaaaaah!!"

Flailing like a bird in flight, the drunkard let out a piercing scream before crashing into the wall with a loud thud!

"..."

"..."

The once rowdy tavern fell into an eerie silence, as if swallowed whole by an unnatural stillness.

All eyes turned to one person—Dale.

He spoke calmly,

"Choose. Leave quietly, or leave with a few broken bones."

His voice wasn't loud. But to those inside the room, it rang out with chilling clarity.

The drunkards exchanged nervous glances. One of them eventually turned to Kayla.

"Goddamn it, Kayla, you bitch. You brought a heretic here?!"

"A heretic is still better than garbage like you, you bastard!"

At Kayla's harsh retort, the drunkard's face twisted in anger.

He rolled up his sleeves and started walking toward her.

"Just because people called you pretty, now you think you're something, huh…?"

Dale extended his palm to block the man, then calmly said:

"Leave quietly, or leave with something broken."

The man's face turned bright red.

The alcohol, youthful arrogance, male pride, the presence of many comrades—there were too many things pushing him toward a foolish decision.

After a moment's hesitation, the man shouted,

"Get this bastard!!"

He charged in aggressively, and his comrades followed a beat later.

They figured that even if he was wearing full plate armor, if enough people rushed him at once, they could overpower him.

Dale threw his fist first.

He struck the side of the man leading the charge.

"Urgh."

A single blow to the liver—commonly called a liver shot—dropped the man instantly.

Dale didn't even bother to confirm the man was down before turning his head.

"Dieeeee!"

A drunken man with a belly wobbling charged in, lifting a table to slam it down.

Smack!

Dale shot out his fist like lightning. It was just a light jab. But it was anything but light to the drunk. His teeth shattered and scattered. The man's body tilted and fell.

Without hesitation, Dale snatched the table from him, grabbed it with both hands, and threw it forward.

Three men rushing at him were struck by the table and sent flying together. Since they were hit in unison, a few broken ribs each should be the worst of it.

"Son of a bitch!"

Five men were taken out in an instant. Only then did the rest grasp the situation and begin to back away cautiously. But one of them, who seemed to be the leader, shouted:

"Rush him all at once, you idiots!"

At that shout, the men hesitated briefly but soon threw themselves at Dale.

In the process, a couple of them were struck by Dale's gauntlets and sent flying.

However, the rest managed to grab hold of him.

Dale instinctively reached for his hand axe—then stopped.

'Ah, right. I can't kill them.'

In that brief hesitation, more men piled on, grappling him.

A dozen or more swarmed him, forcing him down under their combined weight.

They had succeeded in subduing him.

The leader shouted:

"Nice job! Now take off his helmet! Let's see what this bastard looks like…"

But the leader trailed off mid-sentence.

The tightly stacked human mountain began to shift.

Even the fat man perched at the top looked uneasy.

A powerful force was rising from below.

"..."

That couldn't be. It really couldn't be. And yet—the mountain was shaking.

And at the very bottom of that human pile, Dale thought:

'Heavy.'

Dale pushed strength into his knees, which were pressed to the ground.

The trembling grew stronger.

The panicked men tried to press down with all their might.

But Dale steadily began to rise.

As he did, the men clinging to him were lifted along with him.

Finally—the mountain collapsed with a crashing sound.

"Uwaaah!"

"What kind of monstrous strength is that?!"

Dale flung the last man still clinging to him far into the distance.

Then, once again, he looked around.

His eyes met the dazed leader's.

"Will you leave quietly now?"

"..."

People looked around at one another, gauging the situation. Then, without anyone giving a signal, they all bolted toward the exit.

Despite having been rowdy troublemakers just moments before, they were surprisingly fast and orderly when it came to fleeing.

As the drunken patrons poured out of the inn like the receding tide, the only ones left were Dale and a stunned Kayla.

"Uh… y-you're pretty strong, huh?"

Kayla hadn't expected Dale to take care of all of them by himself.

And to do it so quickly—and so overwhelmingly.

Even to her, someone with no experience in combat, it was impressive.

"I didn't think the bastards who've been harassing us for months would be taken care of in one fell swoop like that…"

Dale dragged over one of the few remaining chairs and sat down. The place was a complete mess. Today's business was as good as ruined.

Dale asked,

"Do you run this place alone?"

Kayla, who had been staring blankly at the wrecked interior, replied,

"I used to run it with my father."

"Not easy making a living dealing with scum like that, I bet."

Especially if the person running it alone was a young woman with no combat training.

Kayla gave a bitter smile.

"When my father was alive, we managed well enough. He was a retired mercenary. But after he passed away, it's been too much for me on my own."

Dale nodded. It was the kind of story you could hear just about anywhere.

"What about those guys? They looked like they were all part of the same group."

"Oh, that's Jimmy's gang."

"Jimmy?"

"Yeah. Thugs from the slums. They've been expanding their reach lately and looking for a way into the city proper."

"And they picked this place as a beachhead for that?"

Kayla's eyes widened.

"Wow. You catch on quick. Or do you already know how this kind of thing works?"

"Not really."

A daughter left alone after her father's death. An inn in a remote location. Wasn't that the kind of setup anyone with bad intentions would drool over?

"They told you to sell the inn for cheap?"

"If only it were just that! No, he actually told me to marry him! You know, Sir Knight, I'm quite a looker, right?"

"?"

Kayla was… shameless. No, she was brimming with confidence.

"He said I had a pretty face and wide hips, so I was perfect bride material… Ugh, the way he looked at me gave me the creeps."

Dale nodded.

"True. If he married you, he'd legally own the inn. Not a bad strategy. Less chance of trouble down the road, too."

"…Aren't you supposed to be getting mad with me right now? Why are you admiring that bastard's plan?"

Naturally, Kayla had rejected Jimmy's proposal.

That's when the harassment began.

A whole group would barge in, drink without paying, smash up the furniture, scare off other customers.

The emotional stress was bad enough, but with the inn barely operating, her finances had also started to crumble.

"If it weren't for the city guards keeping an eye on things, they probably would've started hitting me too. I was on the verge of handing over the inn… That…"

Kayla, after a moment of hesitation, spoke.

"Thank you."

Then she gave him a bright smile. Despite everything she'd been through, not a trace of her emotional wounds showed on her face.

She was a strong-willed woman.

As she began tidying up the wrecked inn, Kayla asked,

"You haven't eaten yet, have you? I'll whip up something light."

Dale thought it over for a moment, then nodded. He didn't need to eat, but he never skipped meals on purpose.

Before long, Kayla brought out a bowl of mashed potato soup.

Setting down the tray, she said confidently,

"Try it. I guarantee you won't say it tastes bad."

Dale couldn't taste anything anyway, but he didn't mention that.

He reached up and undid the straps of his helmet, taking it off. Snow-white hair fell down.

It was the most surprised Kayla had looked all day.

"Uh. Uh—"

"What's wrong?"

Kayla hesitated for a moment.

Then, all of a sudden, she fixed her hair, sat properly with poise, and spoke in an elegant tone,

"This maiden's heart flutters upon beholding the noble visage of Sir Dale."

"…You're a strange woman."

Kayla was that kind of woman.