Conquering OtherWorld Starts With a Game - Chapter 160: Salt-stealing Bandit

In the slum near the horse and mule market outside Indahl’s north gate.

Today, Johan didn’t enter the city to find odd jobs. Instead he attended to chores at home and spent his morning scrubbing bed sheets and pillowcases.

Close to noon, Johan finally finished washing the last of the sheets. Carrying a bucket of dirty water, he made his way to the gutter at the end of the alley to dispose of it.

During this routine task, he noticed two unfamiliar men donning flat caps and wearing suspenders entering the alley where their house was.

Johan subconsciously made way for them.

As they passed by Johan, one of them glanced at him before quickly shifting his gaze away.

Johan didn’t pay much attention to them, and after they were slightly further away, he poured away the bucket of dirty water into the gutter. It was then that Johan suddenly felt something was off, and he sneaked a glance at the two men that had walked deep into the alley.

These men didn’t seem much too different from the denizens of this slum; the dirt on their caps and tattered shoes were not much different from those other poor folk that entered the city to do odd jobs.

However, upon closer inspection, they seemed too well-fed and robust. Their cheeks were fleshy, their arms muscular, and their thick thighs strained against the fabric of their suspenders. In this part of town, men of such healthy appearance were a rarity; they usually found better work in the city’s factories or were recruited by street gangs.

Johan watched the men until they were out of sight, then once his bucket was empty, made his way home. Changing into a cleaner sleeveless shirt, he quickly headed to his friend Sanchi’s house in the neighboring alley.

Sanchi, a freckled youth, worked early mornings delivering newspapers in the city and often stayed to help around the office in exchange for lunch. When Johan arrived, Sanchi was sharing his leftover bread with his younger brother and sister.

“I saw strangers around again,” Johan whispered to his friend. “Two men in our alley. They don’t look like they belong here.”

Sanchi’s face stiffened. “More outsiders?”

Johan nodded. “Those two didn’t seem up to any good, and they look stronger than most.”

“They must be after the ‘Salt Man,'” Sanchi said. “There’s been talk in the southern city gangs. They’ve caught wind of the salt being distributed here and might eye the Salt Man’s salt. The ones you see might have been from there. Gosh, why can’t some people just keep their mouths shut?”

Ever since Johan had returned from his autumn harvest labor, the mysterious ‘Salt Man’ had been visiting the area each night, distributing salt to hundreds of households in the slum.

The denizens here quickly figured out his pattern of generosity, and those who hadn’t yet received salt waited patiently for their turn. But as the word spread among more people, it ceased to be a secret. Despite most of the slum’s folks’ understanding of the need for discretion, a few couldn’t resist sharing the tale of the ‘Salt Man’ while seeking work in the city, inadvertently alerting the wrong crowd.

The majority of Indahl’s citizens, without much of a night life (no money, no electricity in the living districts), found their evenings hollow. Even the most mundane occurrences, like rats nibbling on carelessly hung trousers, became the subject of lengthy gossip. So when the extraordinary news of free salt being distributed in the poverty-stricken slum surfaced, it spread like wildfire.

Starting from a couple of days ago, strangers began to wander aimlessly around the outskirts of the slum. It wasn’t long before Sanchi, a paperboy well-connected within the local news network, heard troubling versions of these rumors from his colleagues.

Astonishingly, the generous “Salt Man” had morphed into a “salt-stealing bandit” in the city’s gossip mill. The absurd mutation of this rumor suggested that this so-called bandit, having stolen a vast quantity of salt, was hiding in the slums, buying the silence of the poor with his ill-gotten gains.

This absurdly twisted rumor seemed almost logical—why else would someone distribute salt without expecting anything in return? Who else but a thief could afford to be so lavishly generous with salt?

The denizens of the poor slum had never really spoken to the Salt Man, but they knew better. They were aware that this mysterious benefactor had never asked for anything in return, let alone bribed them. However, their voices held little weight against the swirling rumors outside their community.

“Hey, you guys are here!”

While Johan and Sanchi were fretting, their friend, Tommy, an apprentice at a workshop in town, arrived, breathless.

“Why have you returned so early?” Johan asked in surprise. “Has the workshop closed?”

“Never mind about that,” Tommy said hurriedly, pulling his friends into the depths of an alley and into an abandoned shack.

“I saw a wanted poster for the Salt Man at the printing workshop,” he revealed in a hushed, secretive tone.

“What?!” Johan and Sanchi were both taken aback.

“Is the Salt Man really a salt-stealing bandit?” Sanchi inhaled sharply.

“No, it has nothing to do with salt,” Tommy said with a peculiar expression. “The bounty wasn’t issued by city hall but by the church. The Salt Man’s real name is Von Alphonse, and the church claims he’s in cahoots with an evil black mage. They’re offering ten gold coins for information leading to his capture.”

Ten gold coins represented an astronomical sum for the residents of the slum. The mention of such a reward made their throats dry.

“There are many… who saw the Salt Man,” Sanchi muttered as if in a trance.

While the Salt Man never spoke to anyone during his nocturnal visit, he had never intentionally avoided being seen either. Curious onlookers, much like the three young men, had observed him from the shadows.

Tommy wiped the sweat off his forehead again but didn’t say anything.

Johan and Sanchi, realizing the gravity of the situation, felt a growing unease settle over them. They knew that Tommy was tempted… They themselves were tempted. It was ten gold coins for just information, and it was impossible for anyone to not be tempted.

But… Despite the tantalizing prospect of a hefty reward, the notion of betraying the benevolent Salt Man weighed heavily on the three young men, Johan, Sanchi, and Tommy. It was a matter that clawed at their consciences, a shameful thought they struggled to voice.

With a heavy heart, Johan managed to suppress the temptation within him and hoarsely suggested, “Once the wanted poster is out, someone’s bound to tell on him. Shouldn’t we figure out a way to warn the Salt Man to stop him from coming here?”

Sanchi, seemingly torn yet relieved, agreed. “He has given salt to so many of us… We can’t betray him.”

Tommy, his face etched with bitterness as if physically pained by the lost opportunity of ten gold coins, asked, “But where do we find him? No one knows where he hides during the day.”

Johan pointed toward the southwest, the direction from which the Salt Man always appeared. “Let’s go there early tonight, find a safe spot, and wait for him. How about that?”

Sanchi hesitated, then said softly, “But some families haven’t received their salt yet… like mine.”

“If the Salt Man is caught by the gangs or the church, we’ll never get salt again,” Johan reminded him, patting Sanchi’s back.

“That’s true.” Sanchi sighed in resignation.

The trio then meticulously planned their secret mission. They knew the dangers of crossing the church or the local gangs—they couldn’t afford to be exposed or invite wrath upon themselves.

As dusk approached, they each found excuses to leave home, slipping out of the slum as inconspicuously as possible.

They hid in a crude hay storage barn, not far from their homes, near the mule and horse market—a place unlikely to attract attention since no one in their district could afford livestock. The barn, typically unsecured due to the low risk of theft in such a poor area, offered a perfect vantage point.

Huddled among the hay, the young men soon saw a large group of thugs dressed in typical gang attire swaggered past the barn.

“The gangs really did come,” whispered Sanchi, his face paling with fear.

In the impoverished slum which didn’t have much, gang members typically had little interest in the destitute souls struggling for daily survival. To most residents, these thugs were merely robust men who offered a chance to earn a meal for those desperate enough to join them.

But Sanchi, with his years of delivering newspapers, knew all too well the brutal nature of these gangsters. Every month, the city witnessed one or two horrific incidents involving these ruffians, often with fatal outcomes.

Shortly after the gangsters passed, a carriage adorned with the emblem of the Church of Lady Gold Coin rattled down the dirt road in front of the barn where the three young men were hiding.

Instantly, Johan and Sanchi reached out to muffle Tommy’s almost inaudible gasp of surprise.

Only after the carriage’s wheel sounds faded into the distance did they dare to release Tommy, whose face had turned ashen with fear.

“The church is already on the move? The wanted posters were just printed this morning, and they’ve been seen already?” Tommy’s words reflected a mix of regret for the lost reward and apprehension about the situation.

Johan, who had previously been tempted by the hefty reward, was no no longer weighed down by his indecision. He peered through the cracks in the barn wall, saying, “No need to fret over whether to betray the Salt Man now. This matter is already out of our hands. The church’s carriage went straight in; they must already know his whereabouts.”

“Look, over there! He’s coming!” Sanchi suddenly whispered excitedly.

Under the faint moonlight, a tall, burly figure in a hooded cloak emerged from the southwestern forest.