What does it mean that the Demon King was killed by a wheelchair?

"Blonde hair...?"

After asking who-knows-how-many people, a ragged old man finally responded to House. He rubbed his skin, which was so dirty it was covered in clumps, and said, "I remember someone like that just passed by, blond hair...cat's-eye eyes, right?"

Verette and House exchanged a glance: "Is the dress you're wearing white?"

The old man nodded: "Yes, yes... a white silk dress."

House was so excited he was speechless: "Thank you, thank you! Where did she go?!"

Looking around House now, even locals would probably have trouble finding their way.

The good news is that there are fewer and fewer refugees as you go deeper into the slums; the bad news is that there are fewer refugees because the place is simply uninhabitable.

This place is a garbage dump, a mountain of garbage piled upon a mountain of garbage... This area is about a kilometer behind the square where a large number of refugees are gathered.

These garbage mountains aren't very high, only two or three meters at most, but the problem is that quantity leads to quality. House really doesn't understand if the people of the Kingdom of Oreg are all brain-dead. Why can't they just put in the effort to throw their garbage out of the city? Why do they have to dump such a huge amount of garbage right here in the city?

However, perhaps... from the perspective of outsiders, the slum area can no longer be considered part of the city, since they don't even have human rights.

The old man gazed at the vast sea of ​​garbage, shaking his head in deep distress. "It should have gone towards the miasma valley. Is she your sister? Why did you send her here?"

"The Miasma Valley? Where is that?"

The old man pulled a small tuft of yellowed tobacco from his pocket: "A miasma valley is a miasma valley... just follow the edge."

The words were ambiguous, and House wanted to ask a few more questions, but unfortunately the old man's lucidity had passed. He inhaled all the tobacco into his brain, and his eyes instantly became bloodshot.

"Ugh! Ugh! Oh oh oh ha ha ha ha ha! You're looking for a girl!? You come to the slums—looking for a girl? What a joke! Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!"

"Well..."

House's face tightened; this guy seemed to have gotten too far and wouldn't be able to get any more information out of him. Just then, Verette, who was leaning against the back of his chair, nudged his shoulder and said:

"Hurry, he's inhaling the Vicious Herb."

"...?"

Although he didn't understand why, House knew that dealing with poisonous insects would never end well, so he listened to Verette's advice and stopped asking questions, turning around and walking along the perimeter of the huge junkyard.

The further House walked along the surrounding area, the uglier his expression became. He also slowed down his wheelchair movements. This godforsaken place was just... the smell was too disgusting. The overwhelming stench was constantly assaulting House's nostrils. There were also a few scattered people on the road, probably scavengers.

Most of them seemed to be walking corpses, repeating bizarre actions: bending down, picking up, bringing it to their noses to smell, and then throwing it away.

"What's wrong with these guys...?"

"The Herb of Wrath." Veret's gaze swept around with his. "It's a low-grade stimulant herb. Once inhaled into the brain, it will induce intense sexual desire and a destructive urge, and the user will experience unparalleled pleasure when engaging in sexual and violent acts afterwards."

House was stunned, and suddenly remembered what Omia had said to him before.

"Could this thing... have been created by the Third Hero?"

Veret nodded slightly: "Yes, and this is the worst kind. Just one use will lead to incurable dependence and addiction. Using it for more than a month will damage brain nerves, impair memory, and completely destroy a living person."

House widened his eyes, carefully observing his surroundings. After hearing all this, he couldn't help but become even more curious about the boy: "Where did you get all this information from?"

"Inquire," Verette replied crisply.

"Inquire?" House asked, puzzled. "Rely entirely on inquiries? No normal person would know this kind of thing, would they?"

"Then find some abnormal people to ask around. If one person doesn't know, find ten. If ten people don't know, find a hundred. If a hundred people don't know, find a thousand..."

Veret clasped his hands together: "As long as we can find the answer, spending a little more time asking people to speak a few more times is nothing."

House was ashamed. He could now bet that if this boy lost his life, there was a 99% chance it would be because he brought it upon himself.

"I mean... have you been like this since you were little?"

"Yes."

Do you think there's something wrong with you?

"Yes, there are a lot of them, which is why I want to find out the answers to these questions."

House grinned silently. "That's not what I meant... I... sigh... whatever, I give up. Talking to you is exhausting—"

Squeak, squeak, squeak!

The giant wheel scraped against the ground, sending sparks flying. The immense inertia nearly threw Verette off her wheelchair. House suddenly snapped his lips shut halfway through his sentence, because his eyes had finally caught something.

A splash of pure white stands out starkly against this filthy sea of ​​garbage; it's easy to spot at a glance.

With blonde hair, blue eyes, and a doll-like face, House recognized her almost instantly from a single glance in a dark alley not far away—it was definitely her!

"Hello!"

He immediately turned the Black Thunder Dragon to maximum power and chased after her. The girl was heading away from the garbage dump, towards another building area. It was obvious to anyone that she was heading towards the edge of the slums.

"Virette! Is that her!?"

Verette's reaction was completely different from House's. Having found the lost "cargo," he showed no enthusiasm whatsoever, simply replying with a nonchalant remark:

"Yes."

House didn't care. This kid had been wearing that sullen face for a long time, so let him think whatever he wanted.

"Hey! Hey! You over there, the 300 gold... oh wait... that girl! Wait a minute! Wait a minute!"

"?"

Hearing House's call, the girl turned her head in confusion, and that glance made House's heart tremble... When was the last time he felt this way?

That last sentence didn't seem to be entirely complete. This girl can't be simply described as "pretty." If you had to describe her in one word, it wouldn't be "pretty," "beautiful," or "cute."

Rather, it is 'perfect'.

Her lips were pale pink, her eyes were rouge-colored, and a wisp of hair drooped slightly from her forehead. Her emerald-green eyes, like cat's eyes, gave the impression that she could see through everything... It was an undeniable face.

"...?"

If we had to nitpick, this girl does have a few flaws: she's a bit short and has a flat figure... but for someone who's into lolis, that's probably a blessing.

The girl tilted her head slightly to the side: "Did you call me?"

House was so distracted by her face that he almost forgot to brake and hit her. In his haste, he stopped his wheelchair and nodded repeatedly.

"Yes, yes, yes! I'm calling you, I'm from that caravan..."

"name?"

The girl suddenly put her hands behind her back and asked with a slight smile.

In that instant, House felt as if he had been electrocuted, his body shuddering violently involuntarily. When he came to his senses, he had uncontrollably answered her question:

"House..."

"House..." The girl put a finger to her lips, "I know... In a fair exchange, I'll tell you my name too..."

"I am Annie."