Yandere Levelling in Her World-Chapter 174 - 175: Stealing

Ren and Drain moved when the noise outside peaked.

A convoy engine roared near the outer yard, voices overlapping, boots pounding concrete. The warehouse stood a little apart from the main barracks, a dull gray block with narrow windows and a single side entrance half-hidden behind stacked supply crates.

"That building," Ren whispered. "It is where they take accomdation."

Drain glanced at the guard route once more, then nodded.

"Five-minute window," she said. "After that, patrol loops back."

They slipped from shadow to shadow, hugging the wall. Ren's heart thudded hard in his chest, but his steps stayed light. When they reached the side door, Drain knelt immediately.

Ren watched her hands.

Thin metal picks slid out from her sleeve as if they had always been there.

"You carry those everywhere?" he whispered.

"Locks are everywhere," Drain replied calmly.

She leaned in close to the door. Click. Pause. Another click.

Ren held his breath.

The lock resisted for a second, then surrendered with a soft, satisfying sound.

Drain pushed the door open just enough for them to slip inside.

The warehouse smelled of oil, detergent, and old metal. Fluorescent lights hummed faintly overhead. Rows of lockers lined one wall, while stacked crates filled the center space.

Ren shut the door carefully behind them.

"Step one complete," he murmured.

Drain was already moving.

"Stay close," she said. "And quiet."

They advanced between crates, boots crunching softly on scattered grit. Voices echoed somewhere deeper inside the building. Laughter. Someone complaining about rations.

Ren winced.

"This place is lively," he muttered.

"Soldiers need somewhere to sleep," Drain replied. "This is it."

They paused as footsteps passed beyond a thin partition wall. Ren pressed himself flat against a crate, Drain beside him, both holding still.

The footsteps stopped.

A shadow crossed the gap beneath the wall.

Ren's fingers twitched.

After a long second, the footsteps moved on.

Ren exhaled slowly.

"Almost gave me a heart attack."

Drain smirked faintly. "You are still breathing. That means you are fine."

They continued.

At the far end of the warehouse, a metal staircase led up to a narrow balcony lined with doors.

Drain pointed upward.

"Uniform storage," she whispered. "Changing rooms."

Ren raised an eyebrow. "How do you know?"

Drain tapped her temple. "I did some research."

They climbed quietly, each step taken with care. At the top, Drain tested the first door.

Locked.

Second door. Locked.

Third door opened silently.

Inside, rows of neatly hung uniforms filled the room. Green-gray fabric. Military insignia. Boots stacked beneath benches.

Ren's eyes lit up.

"Bingo."

Drain closed the door behind them.

"Do not touch everything," she said. "We take what we need and leave."

Ren nodded quickly and grabbed a uniform off the rack. He held it up against himself.

"…This might actually fit."

Drain picked one out as well, her gaze critical.

"These are all women's sizes," she said. "Well...there are no men uniforms."

Ren shrugged. "I am not exactly built like a woman but I'll manage."

Drain snorted.

They worked quickly, stuffing spare patches and belts into a bag. Ren grabbed boots, testing the weight.

"These are heavy."

"You will survive," Drain replied.

A sudden sound froze them both.

Footsteps.

Close.

Ren's eyes widened.

"They are inside," he whispered.

Drain moved instantly, pulling Ren behind a row of lockers. She crouched low, signaling him to stay silent.

The door creaked open.

Light spilled into the room.

Ren peeked through the gap.

A lone soldier stepped in, stretching lazily. She yawned, scratching her head.

"Fuck...I need to pee, that booze was too strong," she muttered to herself.

Ren's pulse spiked.

The soldier moved deeper into the room, humming softly. She stopped suddenly.

"…Huh?"

Ren felt his stomach drop.

The soldier turned toward the lockers.

"Is someone there?" she called out.

Ren held his breath.

Her boots stepped closer. One slow step at a time.

"Come on," she said, frowning. "This is restricted."

She was close now. Too close.

Ren's fingers tightened around the fabric of the uniform.

"…Shit," he whispered under his breath.

The soldier reached the lockers.

Her hand touched the edge.

Ren prepared to bolt.

Then it happened.

Thud.

A sharp, dull impact.

The soldier gasped and collapsed forward, hitting the floor hard. Blood trickled from her forehead as she went still.

Ren stared.

Drain stood behind her, a brick in her hand.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Then Ren hissed, "Fuck. We did not come here to kill anyone."

Drain dropped the brick and wiped her hand on her pants.

"She is alive," Drain said flatly. "Fainted."

"There is blood," Ren snapped.

"And?" Drain shot back. "You want to explain to her why you were stealing uniforms?"

Ren clenched his jaw.

"This was not part of the plan."

Drain leaned closer, her voice cold and sharp.

"Too bad," she muttered. "Because I do not want to spend the rest of my life in a jail."

She grabbed Ren's arm.

"Change. Now."

Ren hesitated, then nodded.

They changed quickly, hands shaking. Ren struggled with the buttons, forcing himself to breathe.

"This is insane," he muttered.

Drain adjusted her uniform smoothly, as if she had done this a hundred times before.

"Life is insane," she replied.

They dragged the unconscious soldier behind the lockers and positioned her so she would not be seen immediately.

Drain glanced at the door.

"Time to leave."

They slipped out into the corridor.

Alarms did not sound.

No shouts followed.

They descended the stairs and exited through the same side door, blending into the night.

Only when they reached the shadow of a distant wall did they stop.

Ren leaned against it, breathing hard.

"That was way too close."

Drain examined the uniforms they carried.

"Well," Ren said after a moment, forcing a grin, "I will fit in these just fine."

Drain looked at him, then at the how bad it looked on him.

She tilted her head.

"…You might need some fake tits if you want to blend in."

Ren stared at her.

Then groaned.

"You are enjoying this."

Drain smiled.

"A little."

Ren shook his head. "I will manage. All you have to do is make sure we find the right time and place to integrate with the army."

Drain nodded slowly, eyes sharp and calculating.

"I can do that."

Ren straightened, resolve hardening.

"Then let us move," he said. "Before someone finds that soldier."

Drain adjusted her cap.

"Welcome to the army," she said dryly.

***

Judith stood alone on the stage, the spotlight washing her in white light. A single microphone waited in front of her. Beyond it stretched a sea of faces. Rows upon rows of women filled the hall. Some watched her with narrowed eyes full of suspicion. Others did not bother to hide their anger.

These were not supporters.

They were media representatives. Politicians from rival parties. Figures whose influence had been weakened or outright destroyed by Judith's recent reforms. Every single one of them had been affected. Every single one of them had come prepared to tear her apart.

Judith looked at them all and smiled.

The murmur in the hall grew louder.

"She looks too calm."

"Is she mocking us?"

"Does she even understand where she is?"

Judith adjusted the microphone slightly and waited. She did not rush them. She let the noise rise, let the tension thicken, until even the angriest voices slowed.

Then she spoke.

"Thank you all for coming."

Her voice was steady, warm, almost gentle.

"I know many of you are unhappy to be here. Some of you are furious. Some of you believe I have gone too far."

She glanced across the room, her eyes sharp despite the smile.

"That is exactly why I invited you."

A journalist in the front row stood up immediately.

"Judith Vale," the woman said sharply. "You pushed through reforms without parliamentary approval. You bypassed established law. Do you deny that?"

Judith tilted her head slightly.

"I do not deny it."

The hall stirred.

"So you admit you acted illegally?" another reporter called out.

Judith nodded once.

"Yes."

Gasps rippled through the crowd.

Before they could erupt, she continued.

"I also admit that the law you are defending was written to protect power, not people."

The first journalist frowned. "That is not your decision to make."

Judith smiled wider. "It became my decision when the people started dying."

Another media woman raised her hand aggressively. "You froze assets. Shut down supply chains. You seized private reserves. Businesses collapsed overnight. How do you justify that?"

Judith leaned closer to the mic.

"I justify it by pointing outside this hall," she said calmly. "To the districts where children were eating ration paste once every two days. To hospitals without power. To shelters without medicine."

She straightened.

"Those reserves were not private. They were stolen."

The room exploded with overlapping voices.

"Baseless accusation."

"Do you have proof?"

"You are slandering former leaders."

Judith lifted one hand.

The room quieted slowly.

"I have proof," she said. "Documents. Transfers. Contracts signed during the Norbata Incident."

Her smile vanished.

"While the nation burned, the previous leadership hoarded resources. They sold emergency supplies to their business partners. They created artificial scarcity and called it economic stability."

Her voice hardened.

"People outside were dying. Not by bullets. By hunger. By cold. By neglect."

A politician stood up, face red.

"You cannot accuse us without trial."

Judith looked directly at her.

"I am not accusing," she said. "I am explaining."

Silence fell like a blade.

Another reporter spoke, more cautious this time.

"You are setting a dangerous precedent. One leader deciding the law no longer applies to her."

Judith nodded slowly.

"Yes," she said. "It is dangerous."

She paused, then added quietly.

"So was doing nothing."

A woman near the back shouted, "You think you are above everyone?"

Judith laughed softly.

"No," she said. "I think I am beneath them."

Confusion spread across the hall.

"I work for the people of Norbata," Judith continued. "Not for donors. Not for councils hiding behind procedure. Not for leaders who profit from delay."

She met the eyes of the media.

"You ask why I ignored the law. Because the law ignored them first."

The earlier journalist clenched her jaw.

"What is your end goal then?" she demanded. "Power? Control?"

Judith paused.

Then she looked across the hall slowly, letting every face see her expression. There was no madness in her eyes. No hesitation.

Only certainty.

"My purpose?" the journalist pressed.

Judith smiled again. Calm. Unshaken.

"Because I can," she said simply.

The hall froze.

"And because this country needs a saviour," Judith continued. "Someone willing to be hated. Someone willing to be called a tyrant so others can live."

She leaned into the microphone one last time.

"I will be that."

For a moment, no one spoke.

Then the room erupted. Shouts. Accusations. Fear. Rage.

Judith stepped back from the mic, still smiling, as the storm broke exactly as she had expected.

"Good! Show how ugly you can be...my dear opposition."