When the Serial Killer Next Door Gained Harem System

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> Ace | LC: 0 | EXP: 90/100 | LVL 1

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> HP ▰▰▰▰▰▰▱▱▱▱ 66/100

> MP ▰▰▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 24/60

> STA ▰▰▰▰▱▱▱▱▱▱ 37/80

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> [ BAG ] [ MAP ] [ SHOP ] [QUESTS]

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Phew. I was beat.

I’d spent the afternoon wandering Medra, discovering taverns, more blacksmiths, tailors, herbalists, fountains, even a small alchemist’s stall—each new location popping a tidy +10 EXP notification, some of them +5. Ninety now. Just ten more and I’d hit level 2. Tempting, but the sun was dipping low, painting the rooftops orange. No time to grind safe EXP. The Niakrandra only bloomed under moonlight, and the closest body of water—a small pond marked on the map—was outside the western gates.

"Man..." I muttered, legs heavy as I trudged toward the gate. "I’m wiped..."

As night crept in, the market stalls vanished one by one—owners folding tables, rolling awnings, hauling crates away on handcarts. Guards multiplied on the streets. Twice I saw them stop hooded figures: sharp commands, hands on spear shafts, hoods yanked back to reveal rounded ears. Each time the person was waved on with a grunt. The third time, a hooded woman hesitated too long—two guards closed in, one gripping her arm while the other lifted the fabric. Long, pointed ears glinted in the torchlight. She was marched off without a word, cloak trailing like a broken wing. The crowd pretended not to notice.

Shit. Elves weren’t just disliked—they were hunted.

The western gate loomed ahead. During the day it had stood wide open, merchants and travelers streaming through. Now the massive timber doors—reinforced with iron bands and studded with rivets—were shut tight. Two guards flanked the postern door, spears grounded but ready, faces stern under steel helms.

I met the eyes of the nearer one. He shared a quick glance with his partner, then stepped forward.

"Citizen," he said, voice flat. "We don’t recommend going outside after dusk. Too many elves prowling the woods at night."

"It’s not full dark yet," I pointed out. "And I’ve got a quest. Need to pick a flower that only blooms in moonlight."

"Your choice." He shrugged one armored shoulder. "Be quick about it. You carrying any weapon?"

"No."

The second guard snorted. "Suicidal or just stupid?"

"Neither." I forced a tight smile. "I’ll be in and out. Promise."

They exchanged another look—half pity, half resignation—then gripped the heavy iron rings and heaved. The gates groaned open on massive hinges, wood scraping stone, revealing a gentle downward slope of packed dirt road flanked by tall grass. Beyond that, the land fell into deepening shadow under a sky bruising purple.

I let out a shaky breath and stepped through.

The doors thudded shut behind me seconds later, the sound final and heavy. Torchlight from the wall-top flickered down, outlining the city’s defenses: thick stone walls at least twenty feet high, topped with crenellations and iron spikes. Vines had claimed patches here and there, dark tendrils snaking over gray masonry like slow-moving veins, but most of the surface remained pretty clean—built to last centuries of sieges or worse.

Up on the ramparts, more guards patrolled, silhouettes against the fading light. At least someone was watching.

"So..." I muttered, squaring my shoulders. "Straight down the road. Then left at the fork... and a bit more walking. Should be easy."

The night air was cooler out here, carrying the scent of damp earth and pine. Somewhere distant, an owl called once—low, lonely.

I started walking.

"Okay..."

I used to love walking at night back home. The quiet streets, the hum of distant traffic, the way the city lights softened everything—it felt calming. Plus, most of my ’side jobs’ happened after dark, so I was used to the shadows. But here? Where something with teeth could actually lunge out of the dark and end me? Confidence was in short supply.

The slope leveled out. I turned left onto a narrower dirt road.

The land opened wide around me—rolling fields stretching under the deepening twilight. Scattered farmhouses dotted the landscape, each one isolated by generous plots of land. Some sat close to the road, their thatched roofs low and weathered, warm lamplight flickering behind small, shuttered windows. Others were set farther back, half-hidden by low stone walls or hedgerows. Cabbage heads swelled in neat rows beside one house; another had fat watermelons sprawling across dark soil like green boulders. A few children, maybe eight or nine years old, raced through the mud in front of the nearest farm, brandishing wooden swords and makeshift shields, laughing as they clashed and tumbled.

To my left, the city walls rose like a gray cliff against the sky—massive, vine-streaked stone lit by distant torchlight along the battlements. To my right, the land sloped gently upward toward a thickening line of trees: the edge of a proper forest, dark and unbroken.

"Big place, huh?" I muttered to myself.

I kept walking, boots crunching on the packed dirt. The road stretched straight ahead for a while, flanked by more farms, then dipped slightly toward a small wooden bridge.

The bridge came into view—simple and sturdy, built of thick timbers darkened by years of weather. A low stone arch supported it over a shallow stream that gurgled softly below. Railings on either side were rough-hewn logs, worn smooth in places by countless hands.

I stepped onto the planks. They creaked under my weight but held firm. Leaning over the side, I peered down: no soft banks or muddy edges here—just a bed of smooth river rocks glistening in the last of the daylight. No place for delicate flowers to take root.

I pulled up the map UI again.

There—a wide yellow circle overlaid on the terrain, pulsing faintly around my position. I hadn’t noticed it earlier, but now it was obvious: a search radius marker, highlighting the quest area. And inside that generous yellow ring, only one body of water showed up. No other options. The Niakrandra had to be here somewhere.

I nodded to myself and started moving again.

Four guards passed me on the road—patrol, armored in chainmail and red cloaks, spears in hand. I averted my eyes, kept my pace steady, hoping they’d just walk by.

"Citizen."

One stopped directly in my path. The others halted behind him.

I froze.

"Where’s your torch?" he asked, voice clipped.

"Torch?"

"Night’s falling. Every citizen outside the walls carries a torch after dusk. Only bandits skulk around dark." He tilted his head. "You a bandit, boy?" 𝒇𝙧𝙚𝓮𝔀𝓮𝒃𝙣𝓸𝒗𝒆𝒍.𝙘𝒐𝒎

"No, no." I shook my head quickly. "I just got to the city today. Guild quest—picking a flower that blooms at night. That’s it. I’ll be quick."

He studied me for a long second—eyes flicking over my plain tunic, my lack of weapons—then scoffed. "Next time, bring a torch. Or don’t come out at all."

"Yes, sir."

They moved on, boots thudding away down the road.

I exhaled and kept going.