Jobless Reincarnation: The King with a Mental Problem

Outside the window, the sun is setting.

The orange-red light shone on the stone pavement, casting long, long shadows of pedestrians.

Dinner at the hotel was served in the lobby on the first floor.

A long table, wooden benches, and candlelight casting flickering shadows on everyone's faces. Loki ordered stew, a basket of bread, and a pot of hot tea. Emily sat opposite me, dipping her bread in the broth and eating faster than the previous two days.

"Eat slowly, no one's going to take it from you." Luo Qixi poured her a cup of tea.

"Can't I be hungry?" Emily's voice was muffled with bread in her mouth, but she was indeed chewing more slowly.

I broke off a piece of bread, dipped it in the soup, and put it in my mouth.

—The taste was so-so. Not as good as what Senis and Lilia made.

After finishing our meal, Loki went to the counter to pay. I leaned back in my chair, staring blankly at the ceiling. Emily finished the last sip of her tea, her gaze passing over my shoulder as she looked out the window.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"It's nothing." She looked away and lowered her head. "I just... mistook it for something else."

I didn't ask any further questions.

After settling the bill, Luo Qixi came over and said, "Let's go back and rest. We have a long journey ahead tomorrow."

We walked out of the hotel.

The streets were sparsely lit, and most shops were closed. Only a few taverns were still lit, from which came noisy laughter and the clinking of glasses.

Emily walked ahead, her pace quickening slightly.

As she passed the intersection of an alley, she suddenly stopped.

"What's wrong now?" I walked over to her.

She didn't answer. She just stared at a sign across the alley—it had a colorful poster of a young woman with brown hair, gray-blue eyes, and a faint smile on her lips.

Below is a line of text:

"The renowned bard Cecilia White will be performing tonight at the Golden Rose Theatre."

Emily gripped the strap of the cloth bag tightly.

"...Emily?" Loki also came over.

"It's nothing." Emily turned around, her voice harsher than usual. "Let's go. Go back to sleep."

She didn't look at the poster again, and Luo Qixi didn't notice it either.

But I saw it.

This kind of deceptive trick wouldn't even fool a child...

[Late Night]

The Shadow Lord lay in bed, not asleep.

It wasn't because he was sensitive to sleeping in a new bed—the Shadow Lord had simply slept too much during the day.

Suddenly, some noise came from the next room.

Some children really did get scammed...

awesome!

This is the perfect moment I've been waiting for!

At the critical moment, the passersby along the way suddenly transformed into the King of Shadows and emerged from the shadows!

After annihilating all enemies, only a terrifying legend and a powerful silhouette remain!

Cool!!!

I sat up, put on my coat, tucked EA into my waistband, and gently opened the door.

The hallway was dark. Emily's room door was ajar, and it was pitch black inside.

I excitedly closed the door and walked down the corridor.

The hotel door wasn't locked—that's how she got out.

The moonlight shone on the stone pavement, illuminating the entire street in a white glow.

I walked south along the street.

That direction—the Golden Rose Theater.

The Golden Rose Theater is located on an open space in the south of the city.

The three-story stone building had a golden rose carved above its main entrance—the petals had faded, but their outline was still visible in the moonlight. The door was wide open, and there were no lights inside, making it resemble a gigantic beast with its mouth agape.

I went inside.

The lobby was deserted, with a few withered leaves scattered on the carpet. The air was thick with the smell of old wood and dust.

The stage was directly in front, with a deep red curtain half-drawn, the candlesticks all extinguished, and only a beam of light leaking from the top floor window, illuminating the center of the stage.

There was a person standing there.

Brown hair, grey-blue eyes, a faint smile on his lips—exactly the same as in the poster. Exactly the same as in Emily's portrait.

Emily stood below the stage, looking up at the person.

Her shoulders were trembling.

"...Mom?" Her voice was very soft, as if afraid of shattering a dream.

The woman on stage lowered her head, looked at her, and smiled.

That smile was as gentle as a spring breeze.

"Emily".

She called out her name.

Emily's tears welled up immediately.

She ran onto the stage, opened her arms, and lunged at the woman—

--idiot.

I didn't move.

Her right hand slipped slightly into her sleeve the moment Emily lunged at her.

There's something hidden inside.

Emily had already run up to her.

The woman's smile suddenly changed—

From gentle to ferocious.

She drew a short knife from her sleeve, its blade gleaming coldly in the moonlight, and plunged it towards Emily's chest—

"—!?"

The blade stopped in mid-air.

It wasn't that she showed mercy. It was that her hand, below the wrist, disappeared.

Blood gushed out, splattering on the stage, on the crimson curtain, and on Emily's face.

Emily was stunned.

She looked at the wrist of the "mother" in front of her—the severed area was so smooth it looked as if it had been cut by something extremely sharp. Then she saw that the severed hand was still holding a short knife, lying on the ground, its fingers still twitching.

"ah----!!!"

The woman's screams ripped through the silence of the night.

She clutched her wrist, staggered backward, knocking over the candlestick behind her, her face filled with terror.

"Who!? Who's there!!!"

Emily turned her head stiffly and looked into the shadows below the stage.

A person stands in a place where the light doesn't reach.

Brown hair, a white shirt, a short sword at his waist, and a glass bottle in his hand—no, not a wine bottle. It was filled with countless tiny fragments, suspended above his palm like a still speck of stardust.

That's right! It is indeed me!

Each fragment reflected a faint glow in the moonlight.

"How ugly!"

My voice wasn't loud, but in the empty theater, every word was clear.

"This kind of despicable trick—the Kitakami-ryu style?"

The woman's pupils trembled violently.

"Who...who are you!?"

"Although it's a bit of a waste to mention the name of a dead man, but..." I gently pushed the shards of glass in my hand, and they gathered together again, spinning above my palm into several rotating rings. "I am the King of Shadows."

Emily stood on the stage, her face covered in blood, staring blankly in my direction.

"Trevor...is that you?"

The Lord of Shadows emerged from the shadows onto the stage.

"Shut up," I interrupted her. "Stand at the back. Don't move."

She opened her mouth, but didn't refute, and obediently retreated to the corner of the stage.

The woman's severed wrist was still bleeding, and her face was deathly pale, but her eyes had changed from fear to ferocity.

"Kid...you think...this is all over?"

She gritted her teeth and pulled a short sword from her waist—a left-handed sword. The Kitakami-ryu style is ambidextrous.

"I thought it was someone important, but it's just a brat. I, Bei Sheng—the ever-changing Grim Reaper—will take good care of you! Come and avenge my severed hand!"

As soon as he finished speaking, more than a dozen figures emerged from behind the curtains on both sides of the stage, from the private boxes on the second floor, and even from the shadows in the audience seats.

They were all dressed in black, masked, and wielding various weapons: short swords, daggers, rapiers, and chains.

They silently gathered around, completely surrounding the stage.

Emily's face turned completely pale.

"Trevor, Trevor..."

"I told you, shut up."

I glanced at the group of assassins.

One, two, three, four... fifteen. Add the one with the missing hand, sixteen.

"The Northern Circus Troupe? This theater is the perfect place for you to meet your end."

When I was fighting Paul, many of my moves were inconvenient to use.

Let's test this with your lives.

My new ultimate technique—Forbidden Dust Crystal Annihilation, Swift Circular Saw, Three Thousand Worlds, Spiral Severance.

"Kid," the woman with the severed hand grinned through gritted teeth, "you're not bad. But taking on all sixteen of us by yourself—aren't you overestimating yourself?"

"If there were thousands upon thousands of rats, it would be really creepy." I shook my head. "Unfortunately, there are only a dozen or so here."

I looked up at the stage above.

There hung a huge backdrop—a wooden frame stretched over a thick canvas, depicting the interior of some palace. Several thick hemp ropes hung down from the top floor, suspending the backdrop.

I raised my hand and precisely cut the leftmost hemp rope.

The background wall tilted suddenly, making a harsh, grating sound.

"—!?"

The second one.

The third one.

The huge picture frame, along with the entire canvas, crashed down onto the center of the stage, raising a cloud of dust.

The falling backdrop was like a wall, separating me from them—on the same side.

Emily, on the other hand, was left on the other side.

"Trevor!!!" She lunged at him, pounding on the canvas, her voice trembling with tears, "What are you doing!!!"

"Next up is a restricted performance." My voice came from the other side of the canvas, as calm as if I were saying the weather was nice today. "Not suitable for children."

"you--!"

"Stay there!!!"

—Next.

First came screams.

Then came the sound of a blade cutting into flesh—not an exaggerated "thud," but a muffled sound, like something being cut open.

Then came more screams.

A man was shouting, "Where is he! I can't see him!"

A woman was shouting, "Back off! Back off! Don't lean against it—"

Before he could finish speaking, his voice trailed off.

Something splashed onto the canvas—dark and sticky.

Emily covered her mouth to keep herself from making a sound.

On the other side of the canvas, light casts shadows upon it.

—No, not just one person.

There are countless.

The dark figure at the very center simply stood still, surrounded by concentric rings, with other smaller rings dancing around it.

As each shadowy figure approached, another shadowy figure fell.

With each one that falls, another patch of darkness appears on the canvas.

Emily saw the rings swirling around the shadow like a swarm of fireflies or a swarm of hungry locusts. Wherever they went, blood and flesh flew, accompanied by terrifying screams.

Time lost its meaning—it seemed like a long time had passed, yet it also seemed like only a moment had elapsed.

There were no more screams.

All that remained was the sound of someone falling to the ground.

One, two, three...

Emily closed her eyes.

She didn't want to see it.

But she heard it.

I heard a gurgling sound coming from the throat of the last person as they fell.

Then came silence.

Utter, deathly silence.

"Treff...?"

No one answered.

Then she heard footsteps.

Slowly approach from the other side of the canvas.

A hand reached out from the edge of the canvas—a horrifying, blood-stained hand.

"Let's go."

She opened her eyes.

Under the moonlight, the hand remained steadily suspended in mid-air.

"...Restricted...You're a child too..." She heard her own voice trembling.

"I didn't see it," a calm voice came from the other side of the canvas. "I typed it with my eyes closed."

"..."

She reached out and took his hand.

My fingers were cold, but very steady.

She squeezed through the gap in the canvas.

The moonlight shone on the stage, on the fallen assassins—they lay motionless on the ground, their clothes torn open, revealing skin covered in fine wounds. But the bleeding had almost stopped.

The air was filled with a strong smell of rust.

Emily didn't look at it a second time.

Trevor.

"Um."

Are you hurt?

"no."

"real?"

"These mere grains of sand are not even half as good as me."

"……Um."

They walked off the stage, through the lobby, and out of the theater.

The moonlight shone on the stone path, casting long, long shadows of the two people.

"sorry."

"..."

"I shouldn't have run away alone. I shouldn't have trusted that woman. I shouldn't have... dragged you down with me."

"You're right." I stopped too, but didn't turn around. "You're really stupid."

She lowered her head and gripped the strap of the cloth bag tightly.

"but--"

I turned around and looked at her.

Under the moonlight, tears welled up in those grey-blue eyes.

"That person might be related to your mother." My voice was softer than usual. "If it were me, I would have gone too."

Emily paused for a moment.

Then, tears finally fell.

She didn't cry out loud. She just vigorously wiped her eyes with her sleeve, wiping away the tears, which would then well up again, and she would wipe them away again.

I stood to the side without saying a word.

When she finally finished wiping, she sniffed and looked up at me.

Trevor.

"Um."

"You have blood on your face."

"I am covered in blood."

The corners of her mouth curved slightly—it was the first genuine, unpretentious smile in the past two days.

"...Let's go. Let's go back to sleep."

"Um."

Just then, the witch arrived.

She stood at the theater entrance, the moonlight casting a long shadow. The staff was already in her hand, its tip swirling with azure magic—she had come at full speed.

Then she saw a demon, as if it had crawled out of hell, standing next to Emily.

His pupils suddenly contracted.

"...Treff."

Her voice was trembling.

"I've taken care of everything." I spread my hands, trying to make a "see, it's no big deal" expression.

Then her fist slammed into the top of my head.

The sound was loud, a "thump".

"You—!" Something flickered in Luo Qixi's eyes, "You alone—! Do you know what I—" Her words caught in her throat, she bit her lip, and her eyes reddened.

"...It hurts." I covered my head, feeling the pain.

"That's good, it should hurt!" Luo Qixi's voice rose several octaves. "You're only six! Alone! What if—what if—"

"I'm sorry!" Wang immediately admitted his mistake.

Luo Qixi was stunned for a moment, clearly not expecting me to admit defeat so readily.

Anyway, I've already got it set up for tonight~~~

"You scared me to death." Her voice suddenly softened, like a deflated balloon. "I woke up in the hotel and found your room door open, and Emily's room door open too... I thought..."

She didn't finish speaking.

But I understand.

"I will not do this again." I tried to make my voice sound serious. "The Shadow Lord is not so easy to kill."

Luo Qixi stared at me for a long time, then took a deep breath and vigorously wiped the corner of her eye with her sleeve.

"We'll talk about it when we get back." Her voice regained its calmness, but there was still a slight tremor at the end. "Also—I must tell Mr. Paul about this."

"Why?!"

"Let him keep an eye on you."

"...I don't need to be controlled."

"You need it," Loki said expressionlessly. "And I also need to tell Mrs. Senis."

Emily huddled to the side, tears still streaming down her face, clutching the cloth bag tightly in her hand. Her gaze darted back and forth between me and Loki, her lips moving slightly.

"I'm sorry." Her voice was soft, as if she were speaking to Luo Qixi, but also as if she were speaking to me, "I shouldn't have run away alone... I shouldn't have trusted that woman... I shouldn't have—"

"Alright." Luo Qixi squatted down, took out a handkerchief from her pocket, and gently wiped away Emily's tears. "Don't do this again next time."

Emily bit her lip and nodded vigorously.

Loki stood up, looked at the mess on the ground, and then at me and Emily, who were covered in blood.

"You...wash yourself clean before going into the hotel."

Then she picked up Emily and walked away without looking back.

I may have been a bit rude, but does that mean you've abandoned me...?

I started walking and followed.

The night wind was cool, blowing on my face, carrying the smell of rusty blood and the chill of the moonlight.

The two people in front didn't turn around, but they slowed their pace a bit.

I will pretend I didn't see it.