30

Banteon’s response was met with a quiet murmur from Delroz.

“I thought you might like it.”

That remark gave Banteon pause. He realized that Delroz had been watching him quietly more often than not. Given Delroz’s personality, it seemed unlikely that he was watching Banteon out of any particular fondness. It was more plausible that Delroz found Banteon’s reactions to the natural world—like being mesmerized by the waterfall or stargazing—somewhat intriguing, perhaps even novel.

The waterfall had indeed been beautiful, with the water cascading down in a rainbow-splattered arc. The experience of immersing himself in the crystal-clear waters of the stream, where his toes were visible beneath the surface, had been a first for Banteon. The starry night sky above them now was stunning as well. Someone who grew up surrounded by such sights might indeed find happiness in them.

But for someone like Banteon, who had grown up in the city, the discomfort of a creaky, hard mattress with springs poking through outweighed the charm of the scenery.

“I’ve never even considered it,” Banteon replied.

“Yeah. That figures,” Delroz muttered.

Why did every conversation that seemed to be going well have to end with Delroz making some biting comment? Banteon guessed that Delroz was mocking him for having revealed his ignorance by pulling out gold coins earlier or for using overly formal speech in such a place.

It was his own fault for allowing himself to think, even for a moment, that things might be peaceful. Banteon turned over in bed, wrapping the blanket tightly around himself and facing away from Delroz. Instead of the glittering stars, he now stared at the moldy, dilapidated wall of the inn.

This place really wasn’t suited to him.

Now that they had found a village, they could make their way to a larger town where they could contact the Center. They would hear news of the hunting party that remained in the mine, and soon enough, they’d be able to return to the city.

With that thought in mind, Banteon fell into a surprisingly deep sleep, despite the rough blanket and hard pillow.

---

A soft breeze rustled in Banteon’s ears as he slowly woke up. He could feel a gentle light filtering through his closed eyelids. When he finally managed to open his heavy eyes, he saw the sunlight streaming through the gently swaying curtains.

As he sat up, he noticed an unfamiliar sensation around his ankle. Looking down, Banteon saw that his ankle had been securely bandaged with a splint.

“You’re awake,”

Delroz said, emerging from the bathroom, drying his hair with a towel.

“What’s this?”

Banteon asked, pointing to his ankle.

“A healer came by early this morning.”

Apparently, a doctor had tended to Banteon while he was asleep. The fact that something had been done to his body without his awareness was unsettling to him.

“Have you never learned how to wake someone up?”

Banteon asked, genuinely frustrated. Why couldn’t Delroz simply wake him when something was happening? He was starting to get used to waking up to find that new developments had occurred while he was unconscious, but it didn’t make it any less annoying.

“You don’t know what you’re like when you’re asleep,” Delroz responded.

“What’s wrong with my sleeping habits?”

Banteon asked defensively.

“It’s not your sleeping habits… Never mind, it’s fine as long as you’re okay.”

Banteon had always been told that he slept quietly, like the dead. He had never heard anyone complain about his sleep before, but then again, he had never spent the night with someone and stayed around until morning. He had heard that as a child, but it wasn’t something he thought about often.

Based on the way his bed and clothes were always in perfect order when he woke up, Banteon assumed his sleeping habits couldn’t be that bad. He climbed out of bed, noting that his ankle felt much better.

“What time is it?” he asked.

“Just past eleven,” Delroz replied.

Banteon recalled the map they had bought the previous day. The nearest village where they could contact the Center wasn’t too far away. With some effort, they could reach it in a few days. If they could hire a vehicle, it would take only a few hours, but such modern transportation was unlikely to be available in this area. The distance seemed daunting as Banteon studied the map.

“I’ve arranged for a carriage, so we won’t have to walk,” Delroz said.

“A carriage?”

“Yeah, they still use those around here.”

Banteon couldn’t help but groan at the thought. A carriage, really? While there were some areas even within the kingdom that lacked the widespread use of automobiles, most at least had trains or steam-powered vehicles. But here, they were using a carriage—an antiquated mode of transport that Banteon had only ever read about in history books.

He knew there was a significant gap between the capital and the rest of the kingdom, but he hadn’t expected it to be this vast.

Banteon shook his head in frustration as he entered the bathroom. Despite the mild temperature, his cheeks were flushed with heat, reflecting in the mirror. He ran a hand through his damp hair, slick with the residue of uneasy sweat, and then slipped into the hot bathwater.

With no luggage to pack, Banteon’s preparations were swift. Dressed in the freshly dried uniform from the night before, he descended to the inn’s first floor, where a different attendant was manning the counter.

“Ah, you’re feeling better now, I see?”

The new attendant, in stark contrast to the previous night’s staff, approached with a courteous bow, his demeanor attentive and brisk.

“You wouldn’t believe how startled we were at dawn. That man was so furious, he—”

“Quiet.”

Delroz’s sharp command instantly silenced the attendant, whose mouth snapped shut as he recoiled slightly. The interaction gave Banteon a clearer picture of what might have transpired during the night.

“Did I have another fever last night?”

Banteon asked, turning to Delroz.

“…Yes.”

Delroz admitted reluctantly.

“So why didn’t you wake me up?”

Banteon pressed. If Delroz had simply said that Banteon was too sick to wake, there wouldn’t have been any need for confrontation in the morning. But Delroz merely shrugged, clearly unbothered.

“It was already handled.”

Delroz replied, as if that explained everything.

Banteon was beginning to understand Delroz’s peculiar personality. In his own way, Delroz thought he was being considerate, but his actions often came across as dismissive or insensitive to Banteon.

“Next time, just let me know. It’s more unsettling not to know what’s going on.”

“Fine.”

Delroz muttered, his gaze drifting toward the door. His brows furrowed briefly in thought before he returned his attention to Banteon, his expression resolute.

“Just… don’t be surprised when we step outside.”

He warned, then walked out of the inn, throwing open the door. Sunlight poured in, illuminating the scene beyond.

Or rather, what should have been a scene. The tidy courtyard and fence that had greeted them upon their arrival were now a scattered mess of broken wood and dirt. Large chunks of the earth had been dug up, leaving behind deep pits and patches of dark, dried blood where the ground had not yet been cleaned.

“What… happened here?”

Banteon murmured, his face twisting in discomfort as he took in the devastation.

The attendant followed them outside, standing awkwardly by the bloodstains.

“Ah, please don’t worry about it, sir. We, uh, slaughtered a pig for an upcoming festival. Some blood must have spilled.”

It was a flimsy excuse at best. No one slaughters a pig in the middle of the night, right in front of an inn. Banteon glanced around, noting the absence of the innkeeper and the sudden deference from the attendant who had been so casual the day before. The bloodstains, the upturned earth—it all pointed to one conclusion.

“Did someone try to break in last night?” Banteon asked, his voice low.

“Yes.”

Delroz replied matter-of-factly.

“The innkeeper couldn’t keep his mouth shut about the gold you showed, and it attracted the wrong kind of attention.”

The innkeeper’s loose lips had evidently led to a band of thieves targeting them in the night, hoping to rob Banteon of his wealth. The outcome was predictable: Delroz, an SS-ranked Esper, had dealt with them decisively, leaving the courtyard in ruins and the invaders likely in far worse shape, if not dead.

There was no sympathy in Banteon for those who had come to rob them. What bothered him more was how deeply he had slept through it all, oblivious to the danger.

“You sleep like the dead,” Delroz noted.

“That’s not true.”

Banteon protested weakly. He had never thought of himself as a particularly heavy sleeper, certainly not to the point of missing an entire brawl right outside his window. But the evidence was undeniable.

“I watched you sleep through a bunch of men crashing into the ground. You didn’t stir.”

Banteon couldn’t argue with that. His mind raced as he tried to process everything. He had been in this village for only a day, but already he had experienced more than he ever had in his sheltered life. From being mistaken for a prostitute to enduring an attempted robbery, the events of the past twenty-four hours were overwhelming.

He exhaled a long breath, accepting the uncomfortable reality. He might not like it, but it was clear that there were many things about life outside the capital that he didn’t understand.

Finally, Banteon turned to Delroz, avoiding eye contact as he spoke.

“Delroz.”

“Yes?”

“I’ll drop the formal speech from now on.”

Delroz’s eyebrow twitched at the unexpected statement, but he only nodded, not making a big deal out of it. Banteon had expected a sarcastic remark or a mocking comment, but none came. That was a small relief.

Just then, the carriage Delroz had arranged for rattled into view. It was a simple, unimpressive vehicle drawn by two horses. Banteon stared at it curiously, his first time seeing such a thing up close. It was much smaller and more worn than the carriages he had read about in books, and it smelled distinctly of old leather and hay.

Noticing Banteon’s faint grimace, Delroz asked.

“If you don’t like the carriage, I can always carry you again.”

“No… I’ll manage.”

Banteon replied quickly. No matter how uncomfortable the carriage might be, it was still preferable to spending another day being carried on Delroz’s back. Reluctantly, Banteon climbed the steps into the carriage, finding the seat inside hard and unforgiving. Delroz placed a blanket on the seat to cushion the ride, but as the carriage began to move, Banteon could feel every bump and jolt in the road.

---

By the time they reached the next village, Banteon was thoroughly miserable. He stumbled out of the carriage, his legs shaky from the constant motion and his head throbbing from the rough ride.

Despite having purchased food at their last stop, Banteon had been too nauseated to eat, suffering from motion sickness the entire journey. The uneven terrain and the swaying motion of the carriage had made the ride nearly unbearable.

The village they arrived in was situated on a steep hillside, and the carriage had creaked and groaned as it descended the rough, narrow path leading down.