29

Delroz’s entrance had been enough to scare off the people who had been eyeing them. Now, as they climbed the creaky stairs to their assigned room on the third floor, the tense atmosphere remained.

As soon as Delroz closed the door behind them, he unceremoniously dropped Banteon onto the bed. The rough landing left Banteon momentarily dizzy, his vision spinning from the unexpected impact. When he finally regained his senses, he looked up to find Delroz standing over him, arms crossed and an expression of barely restrained frustration on his face.

Who’s the one who should be angry here? Banteon thought indignantly. He hadn’t done anything wrong, aside from trying to pay for the room and being manhandled into the bed.

Delroz’s brow twitched with irritation as their eyes met.

“What’s your problem?” Banteon demanded.

“Can’t you drop the formal speech?”

“Now my way of speaking is a problem too?”

“No… it’s just… damn it, how do I explain this…?”

Delroz, clearly uncomfortable, ran a hand roughly through his hair as he paced the small room. He moved back and forth, as if trying to burn off the energy of whatever emotion was boiling inside him. After circling the room a few times, he finally stopped, exhaling deeply as if he had made some monumental decision.

With a serious look, he said.

“Commoners don’t use such polite speech like you do.”

Banteon raised an eyebrow, wondering where this was going.

“In a village like this, when a guy your age speaks so formally to another guy, especially someone of the same age, people only think of one thing.”

Banteon’s movements stilled as he processed Delroz’s words. The stares he had felt while climbing the stairs suddenly made sense. To the villagers, Banteon must have looked like some kind of male prostitute, and Delroz like the customer who had brought him to the inn in broad daylight. That explained the lecherous looks they had received.

A wave of humiliation and anger surged through Banteon, causing his face to flush hotly.

“With that pale skin of yours, speaking politely just makes it easier for people to assume the worst.”

“I don’t look that delicate,” Banteon retorted, still struggling with the insult.

“You really have no idea how others see you, do you?” Delroz shot back, his voice tinged with exasperation. “You should take a look in the mirror. Someone who looks like you, wandering around a place like this, would have more than a few people ready to pounce.”

It was the first time in his life that Banteon had been subjected to such a degrading remark. The suggestion that he looked like a male prostitute stung deeply. Banteon took a deep breath, trying to maintain his composure as he responded.

“For someone who claims not to be interested in men, you sure seem to know a lot about this.”

“Yeah, because I’ve never had any interest in that disgusting stuff,” Delroz snarled, stepping closer to Banteon. The sudden proximity of Delroz’s towering frame was intimidating, but Banteon forced himself to stay calm, refusing to be cowed. The air between them crackled with tension.

Delroz’s face, now close enough for Banteon to clearly see the furrowed brow and the burning gold of his eyes, was intense. “But now… I think I’m starting to get why people would think that way.”

Banteon clenched his jaw. Was Delroz implying that even someone disinterested in men could see how Banteon might look like a male prostitute? The insinuation was beyond offensive, and Banteon’s face darkened with anger. He pushed against Delroz’s chest, shoving him away.

“I think we should get another room,” Banteon said coldly.

“No.”

Ignoring Delroz’s refusal, Banteon turned and made for the door. But before he could take more than a few steps, Delroz grabbed his wrist, holding him firmly in place. Banteon’s arm was caught in a grip so strong he couldn’t move.

“So, you want me to stay in the same room after being mistaken for a prostitute?”

Banteon spat out, his voice shaking with both anger and the sting of humiliation.

“You pulled out a bunch of gold coins in a place like this, so now we’re at risk.”

Delroz snapped back. His words were logical, though the situation was infuriating. In such a remote village, flaunting wealth was dangerous; they could be targeted for robbery or worse during the night. It made sense, but it didn’t lessen Banteon’s anger.

“How was I supposed to know the customs of a place like this?”

Banteon retorted, trying to suppress his rising fury. He had never experienced the sort of base behaviors he was now being exposed to, nor did he want to understand them.

Delroz brushed past Banteon, opened the door, and headed out.

“Where are you going?” Banteon called after him.

“Stay here and wait. I have something to take care of.”

Delroz replied curtly, his heavy footsteps echoing down the stairs. Moments later, the sound of a commotion drifted up through the floorboards—crashing, breaking, and the panicked squeals of someone in distress. The noise didn’t last long. After a brief flurry of activity, the only sound was the creaking of the stairs as Delroz returned.

When Delroz re-entered the room, Banteon watched him carefully, noticing the small flecks of blood on Delroz’s uniform. Though Delroz had tried to clean up in the bathroom, he hadn’t completely managed to conceal the evidence. The water splashing in the bathroom and the sounds of him washing were audible, but Banteon’s thoughts were focused on the implications of what had just happened.

Soon after, Delroz emerged with wet hair, roughly toweling it dry as he dropped onto the sofa, reclining as if nothing had happened.

“What did you do to the people downstairs?”

Banteon asked, his voice steady but his eyes fixed on Delroz.

“There’s still a few more days before we reach a village where we can contact the Center. You’ll have to bear with it until then.”

Delroz’s response didn’t answer Banteon’s question at all, clearly indicating that he had no intention of discussing what had just transpired downstairs. The noises had already given Banteon a pretty good idea of what had happened, so he let the matter drop and leaned back on the bed.

Was it possible that Delroz had acted out of some sense of protecting Banteon from being mistaken for a prostitute? For a moment, it seemed like Delroz might have done something considerate, which was out of character. But then Delroz’s blunt voice cut through Banteon’s thoughts.

“There were some guys with eyes that pissed me off, so I took care of them. Like you said, I’m not going to sleep while they think I’m sharing a bed with a prostitute.”

Banteon turned to face the wall, annoyed by Delroz’s attitude. Of course, it wasn’t about protecting Banteon—it was about Delroz not wanting to be associated with a male prostitute. He told Banteon to put up with it, but clearly, he couldn’t handle being uncomfortable himself.

The more time Banteon spent with Delroz, the more he realized how much the man grated on him.

---

Dinner, when it arrived, was surprisingly decent. The dishes were heavily seasoned and perhaps overcooked to mask the poor quality of the ingredients, but the cooking was skilled enough to make the meal enjoyable. Or maybe it just seemed that way because anything tasted better after days of eating dried jerky. The meal even included some fruit, which Banteon appreciated as he leaned back into the bed, feeling satisfied.

However, with a full stomach and a moment to relax, Banteon noticed a problem he hadn’t before. The bed in the room was far too small for two adult men. He pressed down on the mattress, feeling the springs creak beneath his fingers. The mattress was thin, and the springs poked uncomfortably through the fabric.

As he examined the bed, he noticed Delroz spreading out a blanket on the sofa.

“What are you doing?” Banteon asked.

“Sleeping on the sofa.”

“It’ll be uncomfortable for you.”

“It’s better than squeezing onto that bed with you.”

Banteon had been thinking the same thing moments before, but if anyone should sleep on the sofa, it should be him. The sofa was small and would force Delroz, with his large frame, to sleep in a half-sitting position. Given that Banteon had been carried around all day and Delroz had expended more energy, it only seemed fair that Delroz take the bed.

Despite his growing dislike for Delroz, Banteon wasn’t so shameless as to take the bed for himself after everything Delroz had done. It was a matter of courtesy.

“Let’s switch. You’ve been walking all day.”

“It’s nothing,” Delroz said dismissively.

Banteon was inclined to just take the bed, as Delroz was offering it. The warm bath provided by the inn had relaxed his muscles, and even though the bed was far from luxurious, it promised a better night’s sleep than the ground had.

Still, his conscience nagged at him, so he offered again to sleep on the sofa. Delroz, however, firmly shook his head.

“I’m not so careless as to make an injured guide sleep on something like that.”

With that, Delroz sank onto the sofa, showing no interest in further discussion. Banteon couldn’t help but be a little surprised. Delroz, who had previously claimed not to care about protecting his guide, seemed to have softened somewhat. It was almost enough to make Banteon appreciate the gesture. Almost.

Shaking off his thoughts, Banteon tugged at the dusty blanket on the bed and spread it out properly.

“You’ll need your rest for tomorrow, so just sleep and don’t make a fuss,” Delroz added, in his usual gruff manner.

Even when he did something kind, Delroz had a way of ruining the moment. Banteon rolled his eyes, muttering under his breath as he settled into the bed. The old springs creaked under his weight, and the pillow was nothing more than a rough sack filled with wood shavings.

Through the window, Banteon could see a sky full of stars, a rare sight in the capital where artificial lights outshone the stars. It had been a long time since he had looked up at a starry sky like this. The more he gazed at it, the more stars seemed to appear, twinkling in the darkness.

Lost in thought, Banteon’s gaze remained fixed on the stars until Delroz’s voice broke the silence.

“Do you want to get back to the capital that badly?”

“Of course.”

“Have you ever thought about leaving the capital? Venturing outside?”

“Not at all.”

Banteon had been born and raised in the heart of luxury, surrounded by every convenience and modern technology. Whether at his family estate or at the Center, his life had always been one of comfort, where everything was tailored to his needs. Even if he ever left the Center, it would only be to return to an even more luxurious estate. There was no place for the wilderness or a life far from the capital in his future.

Banteon’s reply was immediate and firm, leaving no room for doubt in Delroz’s mind.