After a moment of silence, Gut said seriously, "Master, your deductive skills are incredible."
To his surprise, Serie shook her head at the compliment.
"It's not that I'm good at deduction. I've just seen a lot."
"And don't think about trying to claim that reward. Anything involving nobles is a huge hassle."
"What you'll be dealing with likely won't end with the bounty itself."
As Serie spoke, a trace of displeasure appeared on her face, as if she were recalling some unpleasant memories.
"Okay, Master," Gut nodded in agreement. After all, their goal was to reach the Holy Capital—Strahl as quickly as possible, and taking on such a 'side quest' now was clearly unwise.
...
When the carriage stopped in front of an inn, Gut was the first to get off. He offered his hand in a gentlemanly manner to help Serie down.
Serie glanced at him but did as he wished, placing her hand in his to be helped down.
The coachman greeted his employers and explained that he would excuse himself to find a stable to feed and rest the horses, as few inns in the city had stables.
Gut nodded and, after agreeing on a meeting place and time for tomorrow, watched the coachman leave.
As the carriage pulled away, Gut and Serie turned to enter the inn and settle their lodging for the night.
However, just as they reached the steps, a troubled young wife caught Gut's attention.
Leaving his master behind, Gut approached the woman and directly grabbed—her stroller.
"Hello, ma'am, are you trying to go up?"
"Ah?" Startled by the sudden approach, the woman instinctively stepped back. But seeing the sincerity in Gut's eyes, her fear eased.
"Yes, my husband had to leave for something urgent. But the baby suddenly became fussy—either hungry or sleepy—so I thought I'd bring her back to the inn."
"But this stroller is so heavy. I can't carry it alone. If I carry the baby first, I won't be able to come back for the stroller, and there'd be no one to watch it."
"Don't worry, let me help," Gut said, and after getting her consent, carefully carried the stroller up the steps.
At the inn's door, the woman thanked Gut sincerely as her baby lay quietly in the stroller. When she saw Serie coming over, she even mistakenly assumed some kind of relationship between the two.
Serie didn't mind. Once the woman left, she patted Gut's back and gave him a thumbs-up.
At the same time, a system notification chimed in Gut's mind:
[Ding!]
[Daily Mission: Perform a Good Deed completed]
The sudden alert surprised Gut for a moment. Then he chuckled and shook his head before heading inside with Serie to check in.
He was starting to realize—habits really were powerful.
He had done the daily "good deed" mission so often that helping others had become second nature. He didn't even think of the system reward until after.
Still, perhaps that was for the best.
He wasn't a saint, nor a villain. But doing good felt satisfying. And if you got rewards and a good reputation too—why not?
After collecting their room keys, they briefly unpacked and washed up before heading out into town. Before night fully fell, they found a restaurant highly praised by locals.
At the table, watching his master tear into a steak and juice combo, Gut hesitated, then finally asked something he'd been curious about:
"Master?"
"Hmm?"
"According to legends, aren't elves supposed to love fruits and drink dew? But you... don't really fit that image."
Serie rolled her eyes, swallowed her bite of meat, took a swig of juice, and said:
"If I were to follow those legends, should I also sleep in trees every night?"
"...Yeah," Gut nodded.
"I don't know where all those myths and rumors started. They've created such bizarre stereotypes about elves."
She rubbed her temples and explained:
"We elves—and dwarves—are all considered human species. Aside from some minor physiological differences and our long lifespans, there's really not much that separates us from other humans."
"No magical racial talents, no weird wilderness living habits like in storybooks."
"Most elves are good at magic because we have a lot of time to practice. Magic is fascinating, so it's what many elves choose to spend their time on."
"Our mastery comes from time, not talent."
"If anything, humans have the greatest potential. In just a few decades, a human can surpass even long-lived races in magic or combat."
"So stop buying into those old stereotypes," she said, jabbing her fork playfully in Gut's direction.
"Then..." Gut said, voice low as he leaned in, "since elves and humans aren't that different... Master, is there reproductive isolation between us?"
Serie: ???
"Uhh..."
She fell silent for a long moment, then finally said:
"I don't know the answer to that."
"But I do know one thing very clearly, Gut."
"What?"
"That if you don't shut that mouth of yours, I'm going to blast you into the sky with magic."
Gut: ...
Noted. Shutting up now.
...
Meanwhile, in Vorig, at the lord's manor.
Unlike the light atmosphere on Gut's side, the air was heavy in the city lord's home.
The lady of the house was bawling into the white robe of her eldest son, just returned from a hunt.
The robe, previously spotless from battling monsters, was now soaked in her tears.
Holding his mother, the young man looked helplessly at his father for support.
But even the city lord could only frown deeply. When he saw his son's robes soaked, his eyelid twitched fiercely.
If it weren't for the woman being his beloved wife and the mother of his children, he might've pulled her off by now.
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Powerstones?
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