Chương 8: The Worst Way to Do Good (1)

After a night of pure chaos, Hale slept until nearly noon the next day. Fortunately, his slumber was mercifully free of any more nightmares. Maddie had been up early. From god-knows-where, she had managed to track down and purchase a wooden wheelchair for him. While the craftsmanship was rather crude, it got the job done. Before leaving the room, Hale felt a prickle of anxiety. He leaned in and whispered to Maddie, "If I go out like this, is anyone going to recognize me?"

Maddie replied, "I went out to scout the area this morning, and there are no wanted notice up. They likely believe we've already fled the city." Ryan suddenly tossed a small jar at him, wrinkling his nose.

"Put that on your scar. It draws too much attention." The kid didn't even question why Hale was suddenly wheelchair-bound, as if Maddie had already given him a strict heads-up beforehand. Hale reached up to touch the scar on his left cheek. Since he hadn't been looking in a mirror since arriving here, he kept forgetting it was even there. He turned to Maddie.

"Hey, do we have a mirror around here?" Maddie hesitated for a fraction of a second, but she stepped out and returned with a small, round mirror about eight inches in diameter. While it didn't offer the pristine clarity of modern-day mirrors, it reflected his features well enough. This was the first time Hale had actually seen his face since waking up in this world. He had to admit, this body was far from ugly. Reflected in the glass was a young man in his early twenties with unusually long, dark hair.

When his expression remained flat, his face carried a cold, unapproachable aloofness. But the moment Hale tried flashing a smile, that distant vibe instantly vanished. Now, he looked like a gentle, earnest college student. The three-inch scar stretching from his temple down to his left jawline didn't even look that menacing anymore. Besides, if he just let his hair down on that side, it hid most of it anyway.

"Hey, it's really not that bad," Hale said, quite pleased. Seeing how Maddie had been acting all secretive about mirrors, he had genuinely feared he looked like a monster. Noticing his complete lack of a negative reaction, Maddie quietly let out a breath she had been holding. Even before the scar, her master had detested looking at his own reflection. Every time he caught sight of a mirror, his face would twist into a mix of self-loathing and agonizing pain.

Seeing Hale smile so effortlessly at his own reflection now, a sudden thought crossed Maddie's mind: Maybe losing his memory is a blessing in disguise. The jar Ryan had thrown him turned out to be something akin to concealer. To be safe, Hale dabbed a bit of it on to blur the jagged lines of the scar. Then, he looked over at Maddie.

"Maddie, do you actually own any clothes other than that maid outfit?" Maddie blinked.

"I have always dressed like this."

"Let's go buy you some new clothes first, then."

"There is no need. I am accustomed to this." Hale wanted to point out that a six-foot-tall maid pushing a disabled guy around was practically a walking beacon for attention. But on second thought, a six-foot-tall woman pushing a wheelchair was going to turn heads regardless of what she wore, so he didn't push the matter. They headed down to the ground floor for lunch. Navigating the stairs was the absolute worst part.

Refusing to let Maddie carry him like a sack of potatoes in front of a crowd, he had her support his side while he hopped down the steps on one leg. The inn was packed, meaning every single one of his clumsy movements was observed by onlookers. He knew people were just staring out of curiosity. This city had just survived a brutal siege, so wounded soldiers returning with missing limbs or eye patches were a common sight on the streets. Still, he couldn't shake the nagging discomfort in his chest.

They finished their meal quickly and headed out to hunt for good deeds. Since winter had not yet broken, the weather remained quite brisk even at midday. According to Maddie, Berula only really experienced two seasons: the warm season and the cold season, with the latter consuming about a third of the year. Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

"In Seki, the temperature is low year-round, and it becomes truly unforgiving during blizzards. You used to complain constantly about the chill there. Perhaps the climate in Berula suits you better." Hale couldn't see Maddie's face from his seat, but her voice carried a distinct hint of melancholy. Walking beside them, Ryan kicked a stray pebble out of pure boredom.

"So, what kind of 'good deed' are you planning to do exactly? Don't tell me we're just going to wander around like this forever." Hale kept his eyes peeled, scanning his surroundings. In the mind of a modern-day citizen, doing good meant volunteering or charity work—things like picking up litter in public spaces, visiting orphanages, or helping the underprivileged. Therefore, the fastest shortcut would be...

"Why don't I see any beggars around...?" he muttered. Maddie answered, "You wish to find beggars? Then we must head to the opposite side of the city. That is where the destitute and the transients gather. This is the commercial district; any beggar who wanders over here is immediately driven away."

"Why didn't you say so earlier! Come on, let's head over there." Despite being paved with stone, the roads here were incredibly uneven. The primitive design of the wooden wheelchair offered zero shock absorption, and by the time they reached the far side of town, Hale's entire lower back was aching. The area was exactly as Maddie had described—a stark, impoverished slum. The buildings were noticeably smaller and dilapidated, with garbage and random junk cluttering both sides of the street.

Hale could see dozens of people dressed in literal rags, slumping aimlessly along the pathways. Hale immediately patted Maddie's hand on the armrest.

"Hey, give that beggar... No, push me over to that beggar over there. And hand me a coin. The one with the lowest value we have." Maddie didn't understand his angle, but she complied without question. She rolled Hale's wheelchair right up to a gaunt, elderly man sitting on the dirt, a tattered, empty hat overturned on the ground in front of him. Hale flicked a small coin into the hat. It was called a Ron—and according to Maddie, a single Ron could buy three large loaves of bread.

The old man looked up, giving a hollow, dazed nod of appreciation. Hale immediately opened his status panel to check. Neither his Karma nor his Merit scores had budged.

"Did I give too little...?" he muttered. He then instructed Maddie to hand him a higher-value coin, a Sil, and tossed it into the tattered hat. This time, the beggar dropped to his knees, frantically sputtering expressions of gratitude. Yet, the system numbers remained stubbornly frozen. The street was lined with transients. Hale had Maddie push his chair from person to person, systematically dropping a Sil into each of their hands. The exact moment the tenth Sil left his fingers, a system prompt materialized.

NOTIFICATION The Host has provided essential financial aid to 10 impoverished citizens. Merit +1 Alright, so handing out cash to ten people nets me exactly one Merit point. After dispensing another ten Sil coins, his Karma score finally dropped by 1.

"Finally, a point down," Hale let out a long breath of relief. This meant he needed to sponsor the poor roughly six hundred more times just to stand up on his own two feet again. Word quickly spread among the local destitute that someone was handing out free money, and they began swarming toward Hale's group in droves. This time, Hale tried giving out just a single Ron per person, but even after hitting ten people, his score didn't budge. So the minimum threshold is one Sil per person?

"Maddie, exactly how much money do we have left?" Maddie did a quick mental tally before replying, "Currently, I have 5 Gold, 76 Sil, and 52 Ron on my person. I also have another 10 Gold tucked away back at the inn." One Gold was worth 50 Sil, one Sil equaled 100 Ron, and one Ron can be exchanged for 10 Peny. If he liquidated their entire treasury right now just to hand out one Sil per beggar, he could only cover about eight hundred people max.

But their group still needed cash to cover basic living expenses; he couldn't just bankrupt them! Yet, the crowd continued to grow, forming a dense, suffocating wall around Hale's small group. Seeing the elderly and young children mixed into the throng, Hale felt a pang of pity and decided to distribute the remainder of his loose Sil coins. But it was a mistake. Instead of thinning out, the crowd grew exponentially larger. People who clearly weren't even beggars caught wind of the free handouts and joined the fray.

The mob began shoving and scrambling to force their way to the front, triggering an absolute frenzy.

"Please, kind master, just one coin! My child hasn't eaten in two days!"

"Our roof has been leaking for months, my elderly mother can't take it anymore!"

"My little sister is sick, please, sir..." Hale was utterly paralyzed by the chaotic frenzy surrounding him. Being trapped in a wheelchair, unable to move under his own power made him more and more uncomfortable. Mud-caked hands reached out from the crowd, desperately clawing to grab hold of him.

"Back off!" Maddie's voice boomed, and a sudden ring of fire erupted out of thin air, encircling the three of them and forcing the aggressive mob back. A few individuals caught stray sparks on their clothes, shrieking in terror as they scrambled away. The rest of the crowd was instantly intimidated, freezing in their tracks and not daring to take another step closer.

"Master, let us leave this place," Maddie said firmly. Hale gave a slow, shaken nod. He was drawing way too much attention; this wasn't working. As Maddie pushed his wheelchair away, the crowd parted like the Red Sea. But their eyes were no longer pleading—they were filled with terror and bitter resentment. As for the people who had actually received his coins? Not a single one of them even bothered to look back at him.

Hale didn't feel angry or betrayed, considering his motive for doing "good" was entirely selfish to begin with. Yet, he couldn't shake the feeling that everything about this transaction felt profoundly wrong. Back in his old world, there was a saying:"The manner of giving matters more than the gift." He had blundered somewhere, hadn't he?