Chapter 3. The Eternal Supporting Character

“Aaah!”

I collapsed to the floor, strength draining from my body as I stared at the scene before me. It was impossible to believe what I was seeing.

Mrs. Kimber, her face pale and streaked with tears, turned her head away, wiping her damp cheeks.

“M-Myrda…”

“Auntie… w-what… what is this…”

“Sobs… What do we do? What do we do!”

I crawled on all fours to embrace Mrs. Kimber, pulling her into my arms. She was so small, she fit perfectly in my grasp. Her shoulders shook violently as she wept, her cries raw and guttural, like an animal’s final howl.

Mr. Kimber was dead.

It looked like he had been ambushed in his sleep. His body was still lying neatly under the blanket.

The torn quilt was soaked with dark, congealed blood. His kind face, always so full of warmth, was now crushed inward as if struck by a hammer.

“Urgh… sob…”

It was hideous, grotesque, unbearable. My stomach churned violently, and I turned my head, pressing a hand over my mouth to hold back the nausea.

I’m sorry, Mr. Kimber.

No, that wasn’t Mr. Kimber anymore. That was something horrifying, a shell of who he had been.

My vision darkened, and for a moment, I felt like I might faint. But I couldn’t collapse here.

Clenching my teeth, I stroked Mrs. Kimber’s back as it rose and fell with her sobs. She cried as if trying to wring out every last drop of grief from her body.

“I-I’ll… I’ll handle it. I will.”

My tongue felt heavy and uncooperative, but I forced the words out. Someone had to take care of the body. And if I didn’t do it, I didn’t think I could hold myself together.

* * *

We decided to cremate Mr. Kimber’s remains.

Cremation wasn’t the standard funeral practice in this world, but in remote mountain areas where undertakers were scarce, it was common to burn the body and bury the ashes beneath a sapling—a tree burial, they called it.

While Mrs. Kimber washed the body, I gathered kindling in the backyard to start the fire. Her sobs mingled with the sound of water splashing. I pretended not to hear and focused on my task, trying to steel myself.

The pile of branches I assembled looked like something from a campfire during a school trip, a stark and ironic contrast to the grim purpose they would serve.

As I was trying to figure out how to light the fire, the sound of heavy hooves thundered across the ground. The vibrations shook the earth, scattering dead leaves.

A sense of foreboding gripped me.

And sure enough, the hooves stopped in front of the cabin.

A group of heavy boots stomped over the worn floorboards, their careless steps making the porch creak and groan like it was crying out in pain.

Mrs. Kimber…

She was still inside the house. Pressing myself flat against the outer wall, I cautiously peered through the broken window.

“You… you monsters!”

Through the shattered glass, I could hear Mrs. Kimber’s trembling voice. I could also see the shadows of the intruders—bandits clad in makeshift fur garments, their sharp weapons gleaming ominously.

Should I scream? If I distracted them, perhaps I could beg for mercy or create a diversion.

But I couldn’t move a muscle. My body shook uncontrollably, like I had just fallen into icy water.

Mrs. Kimber clung to one of the bandits’ pant legs, her voice raw with desperation.

“Give me back my husband! Bring him back, you barbaric—”

“What’s this crazy woman rambling about?”

“Aaaah!”

The bandit swung his arm in a wide arc, and Mrs. Kimber let out a heart-wrenching scream before collapsing onto the floor.

I pulled back from the window, sliding down the wall until I sat huddled on the ground.

“Hnnngh…”

I clamped my hands over my mouth to muffle the sobs that threatened to escape. Tears streamed uncontrollably from my eyes, as if a broken faucet had been turned on.

The only place to hide was a patch of low shrubs nearby. But even if I crawled in there, it wouldn’t take long for them to find me.

“Hey, there’s a girl here!”

My hesitation was cut short. A bandit with a scruffy beard rounded the corner and spotted me.

“Well, isn’t she a pretty one?”

He rubbed his beard with the same hand he’d just been scratching his rear with, then strode toward me with a twisted grin, clearly enjoying the sight of my fear-stricken face.

Then another bandit appeared, this one as large as a house. He loomed over me, his gaze filled with cruel amusement.

“She’s too good to kill right away.”

“Have a taste before we finish her off. Would be a waste not to.”

“No, let’s keep her alive and sell her. We’ll get more profit that way.”

“Nah, scrawny ones like her don’t sell for much.”

The two bandits chuckled as they leered at me, their greasy eyes raking over my trembling form.

In that moment, I wished desperately for Mine’s magic.

In the original story, Mine had awakened as a mage at thirteen and ruled the Neuglia Islands by eighteen.

But during the military revolution, when she was imprisoned in the high tower, her core, the vessel that stored her mana, had been damaged. The magic she had left was only enough to fuel her escape from the tower.

When I woke up in Mine’s body, I knew I was destined to die soon.

For a mage, mana was equivalent to life force. Without it, Mine’s body was so weakened that it was a miracle she hadn’t collapsed on the spot.

If not for the Kimber couple…

Thanks to their devoted care, I had slowly regained some strength and had just barely managed to cast a simple recognition-blocking spell on myself.

The spell made it difficult for others to remember my face clearly, subtly distorting my features.

It didn’t require much power, but even so, I had to pour every speck of mana I could gather over several days into maintaining it.

In short, I didn’t have the strength to cast anything that could fend off these bandits.

“Carrying her is too much trouble. Do what you want with her.”

The hairy bandit flashed a yellow-toothed grin.

“Behave, and it’ll be over quickly.”

I closed my eyes, trembling. So this was how I would die in this world too—miserably.

If life was nothing but pain, maybe it was better to leave it quickly.

But I wouldn’t let them have their way.

I’ll bite my tongue before I let you touch me.

I pressed my tongue against my teeth, preparing to end it myself.

One… two… three—

“Gaaaah!”

“W-what the… Kaagh!”

The commotion snapped my eyes open. The massive bandit’s head rolled across the filthy ground, severed cleanly from his neck.

“Huh?!”

Beside him, another head—bearded and equally lifeless—lay on the ground. The bodies sprawled like discarded logs, blood-soaked earth clumping around them.

“Urgh… bleagh!”

This time, I couldn’t hold back the nausea. I turned around and retched, emptying the contents of my stomach until only bile remained.

“What’s going on?!”

The other bandits, alarmed by their comrade’s screams, rushed toward the backyard. I pressed myself against the wall, gasping for air, and forced myself to look up. That’s when I saw him.

A man stood among the carnage.

He had hair as black as a moonless sea and cold indigo eyes that seemed to pierce through the night.

Blood spattered his sharp, blade-like nose, which looked like it could slice through the very air.

“A living woman.”

Ignoring the bandits rushing toward him, the man murmured to himself, his expression tinged with an odd melancholy.

“Do you bear guilt?”

“W-what are you talking about?”

“Guilt,” he repeated.

The sight of blood dripping from his narrow sword made my vision blur and spin. I stammered, grasping for words.

“N-no… I… they killed Mr. and Mrs. Kimber, and they were going to kill me too…”

“A living woman. No guilt.”

His voice was robotic, his tone devoid of emotion. He moved to shield me, positioning me firmly behind his back.

“Following Protocol Seven. Protecting the woman.”

And with that, he shot forward like a bullet, plunging his sword into a bandit’s neck.

“Kaagh!”

“D-damn it! Kill him!”

“Aaaaagh!”

“Gah… g-guh…”

His movements were so fast they were almost imperceptible.

He pulled the sword free from the throat of one bandit while dodging a club swung from behind. With a calculated kick, he tripped the unbalanced attacker, then parried an axe flying toward him from another direction.

The clash of metal rang out with a nauseating screech.

Even the axe-wielding bandit, who was as large as a mountain, was no match for him. The man moved like a shadow of a bird in flight—silent, swift, and utterly devastating.

Every strike was precise, aimed directly at vital points. There was no wasted motion, no hesitation.

“Urgh!”

One by one, the bandits fell like toppled playing cards, their lives snuffed out in mere moments.

When the last of them collapsed, silence blanketed the area, broken only by the faint dripping of blood from his blade.

The man flicked the blood from his sword with an almost casual grace before sheathing it.

Despite having killed so many, his expression remained unchanged. There wasn’t even a flicker of emotion on his face—only a strange, languid energy, like someone who had just woken from a nap.

He extended a gloved hand toward me.

“It’s safe now.”

Was he offering to help me up?

“Th-thank you.”

But just as I reached for his hand—

Thud.

“H-huh?!”

The man collapsed heavily toward me.

“Excuse me… are you all right?”

He didn’t respond, his breathing rough and labored. His broad chest rose and fell erratically.

I hesitated, then gently turned him over so he was lying on his back instead of face-down on the dirt.

“Oh no…”

My hand came away slick with crimson. Blood had soaked his abdomen, though his dark clothing had hidden it well. Panicking, I grabbed a handful of snow and wiped away the blood to get a clearer look.

Only when his chest stopped heaving so violently did I take a proper look at his face.

His tightly furrowed brows, the bridge of his nose scrunched in pain, the grim set of his lips—it all struck me like a blow to the chest.

My heart, which had calmed just moments ago, began pounding furiously again.

I let out a shaky breath and tilted my head toward the sky. Fragile snowflakes drifted down like scattered dust, dancing in the night air.

Wiping at my tear-streaked face with the back of my hand, I forced myself to focus.

But deep down, I already knew.

I knew exactly who he was. How could I not?

This was the man who had made me laugh, cry, and scream in frustration countless times.

He was the eternal second male lead of <Bitten by a Mad Dog>.

My favorite character.

Nexiard Yul.