The threat hit Hoppy. The image of the dark, cold prison, the same kind of cage the slaver had promised, flashed through her mind, blending with the trauma of the slimes and the screams. Her world, already fractured, shattered completely.

She wasn’t a daughter. She wasn’t a survivor. In this house, she was just a "thief" of a life that didn’t belong to her anymore. Her father’s new wife shrieked again, pointing toward the open street.

"Get out! Get out before I ruin what little is left of you!"

Hoppy gripped the brick floor so hard that her fingers began to bleed. The memories of her mother and the times her father came home to their house were all she had left to fight with. She screamed:

"He’s my Papa! He came home to our house, too! He gave me warm hugs and kisses... He’s the only one I have left... please, he is my Papa, too!"

Her father’s face was a mask of agony, his arms still spread wide to keep his city born children from lunging at her again. Tears carved tracks through the dust on his cheeks. He sobbed,

"Please... She’s just a child... please, just stop..."

But his wife stepped forward, her eyes cold and calculating. She didn’t shout this time; her voice was a low and lethal.

"Choose."

The father froze. His wife continued, her finger pointing at the trembling girl on the floor.

"You choose right now. You choose her, or you choose us. If you keep this ’bastard’ in this house, you lose me. You lose your son. You lose your daughter. And... my father will pull every bit of funding from your business by dawn. You’ll be back in the gutter where you started. You’ll have nothing but a starving brat and the clothes on your back."

The silence that followed was deafening. The father’s arms began to shake. His gaze flickered to his sobbing city daughter, then to his son’s hateful glare, and finally to the wife who held his entire life in her hands.

His muscles went slack. Slowly, agonizingly, he lowered his arms. He stepped back, away from Hoppy, leaving her completely exposed. He wouldn’t even look at her; he stared at the floorboards, his shoulders slumped in a coward’s defeat.

"Papa...?"

Hoppy whispered. The word was barely a breath, a tiny, devastated sound that carried the weight of a shattered heart. She reached out a hand, her fingers trembling toward the man who had promised her a home, but he didn’t reach back. He had made his choice.

"Get out!"

The wife said, her voice now a triumphant tone. Before Hoppy could even turn to flee, the man’s city born daughter lunged forward. She screamed,

"Dirty brat!"

She snatched a fistful of Hoppy’s hair, pulling her backward with a violent jerk. Hoppy fell to her knees, a sharp cry of pain escaping her as she was dragged across the floorboards.

"AHHH! STOP IT! IT HURTS!!! FATHER... H-HELP ME!"

The girl loomed over her, spitting insults about her village, her mother, and her very existence.

"Why didn’t the slimes finish you off like your mother, huh?! You dare make our family break because of you! You should not exist!"

With a final, furious tug, she shoved Hoppy toward the door. But Hoppy’s fragile hair, far weaker than her own, betrayed her; a thick clump tore free, yanked from the roots by the older girl’s rage. The attacker stumbled back, off-balance from her own force.

Hoppy gasped, hands clutching the stinging scalp, her eyes wide with shock and incomprehension at such cruelty.

"You... you’re monsters... M-mom... Mom... help me... No... miss Maddy... please..."

The city girl, seeing the hair in her hand, became even more hysterical, raising her hand to strike again.

"DIE!!!"

Finally, the father moved. He stepped between them, catching his daughter’s arm, but he didn’t look at Hoppy with love or protection. His eyes were hollow, filled only with the shame of his own cowardice.

"Go. You have to go now, Hoppy. I’m... I’m sorry."

The "sorry" felt like a final killing blow. Hoppy didn’t argue. She didn’t scream. She scrambled to her feet, shaking so violently she could barely stand, and bolted into the night. Her small feet pounded against the cobblestones as she ran blindly away from the only "home" she had left, her sobs lost in the cold, whistling wind of the city.

Back at the tavern, the atmosphere was a fever dream. The new SSS Rank hero—Johnn sat at the center of the chaos, surrounded by adventurers who were already half blind with ale. They slapped his back and toasted to his name, their cheers shaking the very foundations of the building.

Maddy stood by the window, her arms crossed tightly over her chest as she watched the spectacle. Her plan was to keep a close eye on the tavern to see if the Guildmaster would appear, all while remaining silent and undetected. However, she had not expected these people to be so desperate for a hero.

She was no longer alone in the dark alleyway. A cluster of city women pressed against the glass near her, their faces flushed with adoration. They whispered loudly among themselves.

"Oh God... my heart is racing just at the sight of him... look at his face! It is so handsome—a face truly befitting a hero!"

Another woman added, fanning herself vigorously,

"Right! And that’s not all. Look at his powerful, striking frame! He is the hero I’ve dreamed of every single night!"

The other women squealed in delight at the sight of Johnn. To them, he was perfect. But when he took a sip of alcohol and his expression twisted into a look of pure disgust, Maddy was the only one who noticed how truly ugly he appeared in that moment.

"These girls are... blind. Oh gosh, this is making me want to puke!"

Outside, a small, blurred figure sprinted past the tavern. Hoppy ran with everything she had, her feet hitting the dirt in a desperate rhythm. She was a ghost in the night, invisible to the hundreds of people gathered just a few feet away.

They were so busy adoring their hero that they failed to notice a child in their midst who desperately needed a hero of her own.