Chapter 01
Sunlight poured down brightly, and a gentle breeze tickled my cheeks on a certain day.
I stood in the middle of a busy marketplace, dragging a sword as big as my body, and looked around at the people passing by.
‘Hmm, perfect weather.’
Perfect weather for disrupting business.
I rubbed my sweaty palms together—wet from dragging the heavy sword—and smiled wickedly.
And then.
Thud—!
I plopped down right in the middle of the market and took out a bundle of radishes I had prepared in advance, placing them on the ground.
Merchants who were selling their goods in the market looked at me with familiar eyes.
In particular, Allan, the uncle who sold handmade swords right next to me, welcomed my visit warmly.
“Hey, Eve! You’re here again to do ‘that,’ aren’t you? That thing?”
“Yes, yes, Uncle. I’m here to do ‘that.’”
I lazily nodded as if it was annoying and looked around at the passing crowd with sparkling eyes.
The people who came to the market seemed extremely curious about the sword I was carrying.
Well, it made sense. An eight-year-old kid sitting on the ground with a sword as big as her body would naturally draw attention.
Then, an elderly couple approached—an old lady wearing an expensive shawl and an old gentleman who seemed to be her husband.
“Child, are you selling that?”
It seemed they thought I had come here carrying this sword all the way just to sell it.
I smiled brightly and answered.
“Nope! I’m not selling it!”
“Then why did you bring it out?”
I’ll show you exactly why right now.
I lifted the sword.
“……!”
As I raised the massive sword, the old couple’s eyes widened.
It was only natural—they were surprised that a small child was lifting something that clearly looked extremely heavy.
But there was a secret.
This magnificent Excalibur had a mysterious ability to change its weight according to the strength of its user, which was why even an eight-year-old like me could lift it with ease.
‘Heh, of course. It’s made by the best craftsman in the world.’
Proud of my father’s incredible skill, I gently patted the sword.
Although it was far too large and dangerous for a child to handle, I had been using swords for a long time and knew how to handle them safely without getting hurt.
“Wow—!!”
As I lifted the sword high, cheers erupted from the crowd gathered around me.
They must have thought I was performing some kind of strongman show, like a child lifting a sword far too big for her body.
Hahaha, but the real show starts now!
I raised the sword dramatically, then swung it down toward the radish with all my strength in a “pretend” strike.
“……!”
Amid their anticipation and cheers, the tip of the sword stopped just before touching the radish. Then I—
“……eek.”
As if I couldn’t properly cut it, I moved the sword awkwardly, pretending to struggle, and even lightly bonked my own head with my fist.
“How strange. This is the sword made by the world’s best weapon craftsman, Mr. Roiz, so why won’t even a measly radish cut~?”
“…….”
And subtly, I made sure to firmly imprint the idea that the sword was useless—and, more importantly (though not actually true)—that it was made by “Mr. Roiz.”
The crowd looked at me with dumbfounded expressions as the sword, which looked like it could slice dragon scales, failed to cut even a single radish.
To make it even more convincing, I shouted again loudly.
“Mr. Roiz!! There’s no way the sword he made is faulty~! So why won’t it cut even a radish?”
“…….”
“Just a radish!!”
“I think we should go… a sword that can’t even cut a radish? It must be a toy for kids.”
“It looks fine, though… Anyway, let’s go. That kid said it was from Mr. Roiz, right? We shouldn’t buy weapons from him… seems useless, tsk…”
The crowd that had been packed like clouds dispersed in an instant.
I was left alone in the middle of the market, clenching both fists tightly.
‘Good. Just as expected.’
At least those people wouldn’t buy swords from Mr. Roiz anymore. And if they spread the rumor…
Hehe, my father will become unemployed!
I smiled wickedly and slowly packed up my Excalibur and the untouched radish.
Uncle Allan from the next stall gave me a thumbs-up, saying I had done well again today.
He was in fact selling swords to the elderly couple I had just fooled.
‘Hmph, it’s not like I’m doing this for your sake, Uncle.’
I stuck my tongue out at him and happily left the marketplace.
Sorry, Dad…
But I successfully disrupted business again today!
***
My name is Eve Roiz.
I wasn’t always born as a daughter who sabotages her father’s business.
I only began seriously ruining my father’s livelihood six months ago.
That was when I realized this world was actually a fantasy novel I had read in my past life.
I still remember that day clearly.
The day heroes wearing silver armor came to our house through pouring rain!
“We would like to commission swords from Mr. Roiz.”
The moment I heard that voice, I realized this was a fantasy novel world—and that my father was a background character who dies in the most meaningless way possible.
And then I fainted.
“Eve!!”
My last memory was my father catching me as I collapsed.
‘No way… is this even real?’
My father, a background character who dies in the most meaningless way in the story?
He was actually a background character with quite a lot of presence.
But so what!
That “presence” was just him working himself to death!
His role in the story was the “weapon craftsman who dies from overwork after forging swords for the hero party.”
The greatest weapon craftsman in this novel world, “Neil Roiz.”
Neil Roiz receives a commission from the hero’s party to forge seven swords for slaying a dragon, plus seven spare swords—fourteen swords in total—and dies from overwork.
Part of the reason he overworks himself is because those rude heroes also ordered all those spare weapons, but the real cause of death was something else.
It was because the iron ore used by the world’s greatest blacksmith, Neil Roiz, drains the life force of the one who refines it.
Of course, novel Neil Roiz doesn’t know this.
So he foolishly makes fourteen swords at once and dies.
And that fool…
is my father.
After learning this, I lay in bed groaning like someone about to die, then suddenly jumped up and shouted:
“I can’t let that happen!!”
“E-Eve? Are you sick?”
This man!
Even if he’s a bit of an idiot! Even if he only knows swords and his daughter! He’s still the world’s greatest weapon craftsman and my father!
I couldn’t let him die such a meaningless death.
Those damn heroes—what’s with ordering spare swords too? Don’t try to switch weapons mid-fight like cowards; if your sword breaks, die with it!
As I growled in frustration, my father hurriedly brought a warm glass of milk and placed it in front of me.
“Drink this and calm down, okay? I don’t know why you’re suddenly like this…”
Ignoring his worried voice, I gulped down the milk.
Bang—!
Then I slammed the cup onto the table beside me and turned sharply toward my father.
