Chapter 271: Chapter 271- Kaida being a Hooligan?

Kaida’s hand shot out, grabbing Gareth through his collar like he was a sack of grain. Her other hand snatched another man—a burly fellow who’d been trying to crawl away.

Both of them.

Eighty, ninety kilograms of grown men lifted like they weighed nothing, one in each hand, dangling off the ground.

“I need one copper from your shares,” Kaida said flatly, already walking toward the manor entrance. “Do you get it?”

’!’

Silence crashed down like a physical weight.

Everyone was shocked, minds scrambling to process what she’d just said. Money? They were going to get *money* for their herbs as per lord’s promise and maybe more work as per what they heard from Sir Gareth?

But after paying 2 copper out of 10, did they also need to pay this woman her share?

As she reached the manor’s entrance, one of them—a bald man with a scar running down his neck who seemed to have let his fear calm enough to find his voice—asked, “Why would I pay you—”

Kaida stopped.

Just stopped mid-step, Gareth and the other man still dangling from her grip like dry laundry.

She looked over her shoulder. Slow. Deliberate.

Her red eyes locked onto the bald man like a demon marking prey. Her jaw clenched, teeth visible in something that wasn’t quite a smile.

“For protection… of course. That’s protection money.”

The bald man’s newfound courage evaporated. His mouth opened. Closed. “P-protection? From what?”

Kaida’s lips curved into something cold. Something that made every survival instinct in their bodies scream.

“Of course,” she said sweetly, “from me.”

Silence.

Not a bird. Not a breath. Not a single sound except the gentle rustling of leaves in the distance.

Then reality crashed back in.

“Haaaahhh!?”

The collective gasp echoed through the garden, a mix of disbelief and sheer terror.

The villagers looked at Kaida—this red-haired demoness who had just claimed she would protect them from herself—and then at each other. Necks craned, eyes widened, and shoulders slowly shrugged in that universal gesture of helplessness that said, ’Well, we’re screwed either way.’

They didn’t have a choice. The dragon had already scared the soul out of them, and now this woman was threatening to beat the rest out if they didn’t pay up.

Slowly, like a herd of sheep realizing the slaughterhouse was actually the only way out of the rain, they began to shuffle toward the manor’s entrance.

Inside, the main hall was spacious, though the furniture was sparse. But in the center, on a plush velvet sofa that looked far too expensive for this countryside manor, sat Viktor.

He was leaning back, legs crossed, looking like a king on his throne. One hand rested on the armrest, tapping a rhythm, while the other held a heavy leather pouch that jingled with the sweet, heavy sound of silver.

Beside him on the table lay piles of copper coins, glistening in the dim light.

Viktor’s dark eyes swept over the entering villagers, his expression unreadable.

“Line up,” he commanded, voice lazy but cutting through the shuffling noise instantly. “How much did you bring?”

The villagers hesitated, glancing at Kaida who had taken her position by the door, arms crossed, her red eyes gleaming with a predatory light.

She was beautiful—stunning, really—but the smirk on her face made her look like a beautiful devil waiting to collect souls.

The first man, a scrawny farmer clutching a burlap sack to his chest, stepped forward. His hands trembled.

“I… I brought herbs, My Lord,” he stammered, placing the sack on the table.

Viktor didn’t touch it. He just looked at it. “Weight?”

“Five… five kilos, Lord.”

Viktor nodded. He reached into the pouch, his long fingers deftly counting out coins.

“Five kilos. At the rate of ten copper per kilo…” Viktor’s voice was smooth, like silk wrapping around a knife. “That becomes a total of fifty copper coins.”

The farmer’s face lit up. Fifty copper! That was more than he made in a week of selling grain. His eyes practically sparkled as he watched Viktor count out the stack. One, two, three… five stacks of ten.

Viktor pushed the coins forward. The man reached out, his rough hands eager—

Swish

Viktor’s hand moved. Before the man could touch the money, Viktor swept ten coins back into his own pile.

The farmer blinked, hand hovering in empty air. “Uh… Lord?”

“Tax,” Viktor said simply, his lips curling into a smirk that mirrored Kaida’s. “Two coins per kilo. My land, my herbs, my money. You get forty.”

The man’s jaw tightened. He looked at the forty coins, then at the ten Viktor had taken back. His fist clenched at his side. It felt like robbery. It was robbery.

He had climbed those dangerous hills, risked snake bites and broken ankles, and now—

He looked up, about to protest, but his eyes drifted past Viktor to Kaida.

She was watching him. Just watching. One eyebrow raised, daring him to say a word.

The man swallowed his anger. Forty was still… forty was still good. He scooped up the coins, nodding quickly. “Th-thank you, Lord.”

He turned to leave, clutching his earnings close to his chest. He took two steps toward the door—

And stopped dead.

Kaida blocked the path. She didn’t move. She didn’t need to. Her presence alone was a wall of steel and fire. She just extended a hand, palm open.

The man froze. He looked back at Viktor, desperation in his eyes. He opened his mouth, pointing a shaking finger at the red-haired woman.

“Lord… actually, that lady over there—”

“SPEAK. WHEN. TOLD. TO.”

The voice didn’t shout. It didn’t roar. It just dropped—heavy, cold, and absolute.

The villager flinched so hard he nearly dropped his coins. He looked at Viktor, expecting to see the generous lord who had just paid him. Instead, he saw a monster.

Viktor’s eyes were dark voids, and his smirk had vanished, replaced by a cold indifference that made the man feel smaller than an ant.

He trembled, looking down at his boots, realizing his mistake. He thought because Viktor was paying him, he was kind.

He was wrong.

Viktor leaned back, that cruel amusement returning to his face as he watched the man squirm. “She’s doing her job. You do yours. Pay the toll.”

The man looked at Kaida. She grinned, a sharp, terrifying expression.

“One copper,” she whispered, sweet as poison.

With shaking hands, the man fished out a copper coin from his forty—his hard-earned forty—and dropped it into Kaida’s palm. She closed her fingers over it, stepping aside to let him pass.

He ran. He didn’t walk, he didn’t shuffle—he bolted out the door like the hounds of hell were snapping at his heels.

Viktor chuckled, a low sound in his throat. He watched the man flee, then glanced at Kaida. She caught his eye and winked, pocketing the coin.

’Human greed,’ Viktor thought, shaking his head. ’So foolish. They want everything, but fear makes them give up anything.’

Logically, he was paying them for herbs, and they expect to not even give him his share?

“Next,” Viktor called out.

The line moved. Slowly, terrified, but driven by the jingling of coins.

One by one, they came forward.

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