Please Stop The Pope

Chapter 322

A miserable and unfortunate life—those words encapsulate my twenty years better than any other.

It was an utterly wretched existence.

My parents passed away when I was nine, victims of the black plague.

Of the five siblings in our family, including me, the youngest succumbed to the same illness. The rest of us were saved only thanks to the priests dispatched by the Rimen Church.

I survived too, though survival was a burden in its own right.

Pain is always reserved for those who live on.

For the sake of my siblings, I endured with every ounce of strength I had.@@@@

Our village saw frequent visits from adventurers, so the inn was always bustling with customers.

Their daughter had married and left, leaving the inn short-staffed. That’s when Mr. Hans noticed me and took me in.

I’ve been working at the Resting Wind Inn ever since—for three years now.

Thanks to the care and support of Mr. and Mrs. Hans, my siblings and I never went hungry.

But misfortune, as it often does, strikes just when you begin to feel at ease.

Like now.

“Well, well, for a backwater place, there’s quite a looker here,” one of the mercenaries sneered.

“...Please don’t do this,” I said, keeping my voice steady.

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