"Hahahahaha! Is this really all the Heroes are capable of?!"
The Demon King's roar echoed throughout the ruins. He looked down at the battered army before him, his laughter dripping with contempt. "You mobilized thousands of troops, and even that wasn't enough to make me use my full power."
"At the very least... we defeated the Demon Executive Forces. The Seven Deadly Sins..." said a blond-haired man, his body swaying, yet still refusing to fall.
The Demon King let out a low laugh. "Executives? Seven sins? Don't make me laugh. They are just creatures I gave a bit of power. Then, they pretended to be a group without my orders. His smile widened, but his eyes narrowed coldly. "If I wished, I could create seven, ten—or even more—beings like them whenever I pleased."
FWOOSH—!
Something pierced through him from behind. The tip of a spear emerged from the Demon King's chest, and for a brief instant, time itself seemed to stop.
"W-What... have you done...?"
Slowly, he turned his head toward the figure behind him. But the answer came from another direction.
"No particular reason."
A man lounged on a pile of rubble. His chin rested on his left hand, while his right fingers gently guided the spear from afar. His gaze was flat, almost bored. "I'm just tired... of this war never ending. And you've just given me a reason to end it."
"You bastard—! After this, I'll make you regre—"
The world suddenly spun. The Demon King saw his own body still standing.
Without its head.
Everything sank into darkness.
The man slowly rose to his feet and walked toward the surviving heroes. "As agreed. I killed him." He lowered himself slightly until he was level with the blond-haired man. "Now... it's your turn."
The man drew a heavy breath. "Very well... I am Arthur Leonheart, leader of the Hero—"
His body collapsed.
Silence filled the ruins. The man stared at the fallen hero for a moment, then let out a sigh.
"At least... there is still one hero I can trust."
He turned around and vanished.
That day became legend. In the records of history, it was the Heroes who were said to have defeated the Demon King.
—END—
"What the hell is with this game?! Why is the one who killed the Demon King actually 'Sloth,' one of the Seven Deadly Sins?! And why does the ending say the Heroes were the ones who defeated him?!"
A young man hurled his headset aside. "Right? The ending is complete trash," said the friend beside him.
The room was full of computers, all lined up close. Their screens gave off a constant flickering blue light. The fast clatter of keyboards, the clicking of mouse, and gamers' shouts mixed into a steady noise. Some people lounged lazily in their chairs while playing. Others yelled in frustration, cursing teammates who were probably nowhere to be found. The air smelled of instant noodles and sachet coffee. It mixed with the heat from machines that ran nonstop. The fluorescent lights on the ceiling flickered weakly, as if tired from matching the place's rhythm.
In one corner of the room stood a glass booth that contrasted sharply with the chaos outside. It was wider, cleaner, and far more luxurious than the other computer stations.
There was only one person inside.
The owner of the internet café himself—Mikoto. He seemed to be in his twenties. He had messy black hair and thin rectangular glasses. His lean build hinted at less exercise and more sleepless nights in front of a monitor. Wearing dark clothes and slouching in his chair, he looked more like a gamer than a businessman.
BANG!
The desk overturned. The CPU crashed hard onto the floor, while the monitor flickered for a moment before finally going dark.
"Idiotic team! Blind mapless morons!"
A woman immediately rushed in as soon as she heard the noise.
It was Ana. Her dark hair was neatly tied back. She had a clean look and a calm expression. She seemed to accept that running this place meant cleaning up Mikoto's messes. She didn't seem intimidating at first. Yet, her steady gaze showed she was the practical one of the two.
"What happened, sir?"
"This stupid game! Why do I always get toxic teammates?! Ana, replace this PC with a new one! Tonight I'm going to challenge him one-on-one!"
Mikoto stood and casually walked toward the exit as if nothing had happened. Ana rubbed her temples.
"But, sir... we're out of money."
Mikoto's steps stopped. "Then... just sell my gold."
"The last of your gold was already sold to buy Pukimon cards."
Mikoto stopped mid-step.
"...Then how much do we still have?"
Sweat began to appear on his face. Ana opened the notebook in her hands.
"Nothing. We can't even pay next month's electricity and internet bills." She looked at him flatly. "And you still haven't paid my salary."
That night, the two of them sat facing each other at a small dining table behind the internet café.
The room was quiet. Far too quiet. There was no warm aroma of freshly cooked food, no side dishes, and no comforting sign that life was going well. Only two cups of instant noodles sat on the table—no egg, no meat.
Mikoto stared at the noodles in front of him for quite a while. "...Ana."
"Yes, sir."
"Why... is this all we have?"
Ana answered without expression. "Because we don't have enough money to buy ingredients."
Mikoto's stomach growled softly. He leaned back in his chair and roughly rubbed his face. "This doesn't make any sense..." he muttered. "Our internet café is always full. From noon until dawn. Sometimes people even have to line up."
He looked outside toward the rows of computers that were still glowing. "A business like this... should be extremely profitable."
Ana ate her noodles slowly. In the dim light, her face looked calm as always. Neat dark hair framed her features, staying in place despite the long day. She even carried herself with quiet order while eating instant noodles. Mikoto couldn't manage that.
Mikoto glanced at her.
"The profit from the café is only enough to cover your daily meals." She opened her small notebook and flipped through a few pages. "But the PC damage you keep causing, maintenance costs, electricity, internet, and employee salaries..." She lifted her gaze. "...all of that is paid from your personal funds."
Mikoto just stared at her.
Ana continued mercilessly. This internet café loses money every day. Your expenses are much higher than its income.
Mikoto blinked. "...Huh?"
Ana closed her notebook. "In other words, sir—" She pointed toward the café floor outside. "The busier this place gets, the faster your money disappears."
Mikoto froze.
A few seconds passed.
"...Wait."
His face turned pale. "So... all this time, I've been working hard—"
"You haven't been working, sir. You've been playing games."
"...—and I've actually been going bankrupt faster?"
Ana nodded slowly. "Yes."
From outside, laughter drifted faintly into the room. Players shouted, keyboards clacked, and coins jingled. The world carried on as usual.
Except inside that small room, one internet café owner had just realized that his life... was truly a mess.
Mikoto lowered his head, holding it in both hands. "...Ana."
"Yes, sir."
"In that case... what are we eating tonight?"
Ana thought for a moment. "...Instant noodles."
Mikoto remained hunched over, his head still supported by both hands. "...We need money."
Ana nodded. "That's right, sir." She gently closed her notebook, then said bluntly, "In that case... just sell the internet café."
Mikoto immediately lifted his head. "No."
His answer was firm and immediate. "Anything but this café."
For the first time that night, the laziness vanished from his face. His rectangular glasses and messy black hair often made him look half-asleep. But then, his gaze suddenly sharpened.
Ana looked at him for a moment, then let out a sigh. "...All right."
She changed her approach. "Then we'll have to find another source of income. A part-time job, delivery work, operator work, or—"
"No."
Ana closed her eyes for a moment. "Sir, I wasn't finished."
"There's no need. The time and effort required aren't worth the return."
"That's just how reality works."
"Then that's not what I'm looking for."
Ana was beginning to look annoyed. "Then what exactly do you want?"
Mikoto raised three fingers. "Fast. Easy. And high-paying."
Ana stared at him blankly. "...Sir."
"Yes?"
"If jobs like that existed, everyone would already be rich."
Mikoto leaned back. "So there isn't one?"
Ana fell silent for a moment. "...There is one."
Mikoto turned toward her at once. "What is it?"
Ana gave a short answer. "A Hunter."
Mikoto narrowed his eyes. "The kind that goes into dungeons?"
"Yes."
"The kind that dies a lot?"
"Yes."
"The kind that gets paid a lot?"
Ana nodded. "Yes."
"...Interesting."
Ana immediately added, "But it's dangerous."
"Anything that makes big money is dangerous."
Ana leaned forward slightly. "Ever since the first Gate appeared twenty years ago, the world has changed. Monsters come out of dungeons, and only Hunters can fight them." She folded her arms. "People who awakened special abilities."
"The ranks?"
"E to S."
"If you're at least Rank D... your life is basically set."
For a moment, neither of them spoke. Then Mikoto tapped the table lightly.
"...All right."
He suddenly stood up. "Let's sign up right now."
A few minutes later, they stood in front of a large building with the words:
National Hunter Association
It was dark. Silent. The doors were closed.
Mikoto stared at the operating hours sign beside the entrance. "...Closed?"
Ana glanced at the time on her phone. "Business hours end at five in the afternoon, sir."
Mikoto slowly turned his head. "...What time is it now?"
"Half past six."
Mikoto let out a long sigh. "...Fine. We'll come back tomorrow."
Ana fell quiet. "Sir."
"What?"
"Tomorrow is Sunday."
"...So?"
"The Hunter Association is closed on Sundays too."
The night breeze blew softly through the empty street.
Mikoto's expression slowly changed. "...Ana."
"Yes, sir."
"Tomorrow..." He looked up at the sky. "...what are we going to eat?"
Ana said nothing.
Then—
"ANAAA!! WHAT ARE WE GOING TO EAT TOMORROW?!"
His scream echoed down the empty street.