The sun was barely up, and already I regretted existing.
"Oi, Background Boy!" the café manager shouted from inside the kitchen, voice raspy like a fire spell gone wrong. "We've got a special delivery today. Real VIP. You're up!"
"I'm not even on shift yet."
"You live upstairs."
"…That's fair."
I tied my apron over my casual tunic, grabbed the delivery basket, and stared at the tag:
TO: Lord Fendrel, Captain of Northwatch Outpost
Order: 1 Berry Tart, No Poison (Please)
Normal delivery. Totally normal. Except…
Northwatch was bandit territory.
Nobody sane went there unless they wanted to end up naked in a ditch or starring in a wanted poster drawn by someone with crayons.
Perfect.
A Few Hours Later
The journey took me through misty forests, rocky hills, and three awkward encounters with wolves that decided I wasn't worth the calories.
I walked calmly, blending in like a traveling nobody—which, technically, I was.
Until I reached the outpost.
Or what was left of it.
The front gate was smashed. Smoke rose from the tower. Arrows were scattered like confetti after a particularly stabby birthday party.
And there, leaning on a fence and chewing on someone's hat, was a bandit.
"Oi," he called. "What's this then? Tea delivery?"
"Berry tart," I corrected.
He laughed. The others laughed.
Six of them in total. One bowman. One mage. Four with swords. All sloppy. All loud.
All dead men walking.
"Hand it over and maybe we let you live," their leader sneered.
I sighed. "I was hoping you'd say that."
I stepped forward.
They didn't notice the shadows gathering under their boots.
[Shadow Talent – MAX]
Skill: Shadow Bloom – Activated
The ground erupted.
Black tendrils lashed out, grabbing ankles, choking weapons, silencing spells.
They panicked.
I was already moving.
I slipped through the chaos like smoke. One down. Two down. The archer tried to run—arrow already drawn—until I cut his string mid-flight and tapped him with the hilt.
Snap.
Down he went.
The mage screamed and cast fireball.
I cast silence—with my foot to his mouth.
Bandit leader swung a cleaver. Heavy. Predictable. I ducked.
[Shadow Fang – Critical Strike]
His weapon split.
So did his confidence.
"W-who are you?" he stammered.
"Just a guy," I said, grabbing the berry tart from the ground, not a crumb out of place.
"A delivery guy."
Later, Back at the Café
I placed the now slightly scorched, but still intact, tart on the counter.
The manager blinked. "You made it back?"
"Yep."
"No bandits?"
"None were alive."
"…Did you wipe blood off the basket?"
"Berry tart juice."
He stared.
I stared back.
Then he sighed. "Fine. Go prep for lunch rush."
"Already did," I said.
Of course I had. Before sunrise. Before the delivery. Before the bandits.
Because I'm just a background character.
No one notices me.
And that's how I Live.
Until that day…