The heavy wooden door creaked open. The door was a solid, imposing piece.
A woman sitting at the counter greeted us. "Welcome."
She appeared to be in her early forties. Though faint wrinkles graced her neck and eyes, she was fit, toned, and dressed in clothing that accentuated her figure. Men sitting at nearby tables stole glances at her with obvious interest.
I had killed the previous owner. That man had complained about the Necron Society taking over the inn.
So, is this woman part of that group?
Perhaps she was a puppet controlled by an underground trafficking ring. I sensed a crawling sensation as if snakes were slithering right beneath the surface, ready to spring forth at any moment. I stayed alert, expecting the men at the tables to join any type of ambush.
Rena tapped my side, snapping me back to reality. I might have been leaking a murderous intent, but the woman behind the counter only gave a faint, melancholic smile.
"First time here, I take it? Are you travelers?"
The tables and chairs were neatly arranged, and the floor was clean. At first glance, it didn't seem like a den of criminals or a drug haven, yet this was undoubtedly the same place where Rubia had disappeared.
"Rooms start on the second floor. Will you two be sharing one?"
"Of course. We'd like a room with a bathtub, please."
As I continued to survey the room, Rena shot me a subtle glance, ordering a beer to buy me time to inspect the first floor. I hadn't said a word, but she had already caught on.
A large wooden mug full of dark beer was placed on the bar.
Rena leaned in, making small talk with the innkeeper. "Do you have any cheese to go with it?"
"Here you go. I'll add some dried snacks, too."
Rena stood at the counter, sipping her beer slowly. Meanwhile, I wandered around the first floor, observing the patrons. There were no familiar faces, at least not those of the bald man and his lackeys.
I tapped my foot against the ground here and there. The hollow sound indicated that there was a space below.
There's a basement here.
However, it wasn't unusual for an inn to have a basement. It could be used as a wine or cheese cellar. I found nothing particularly suspicious.
Eventually, Rena finished her beer.
"We only have one dinner option. Shall I bring it up to your room?" the innkeeper asked.
"Yes, please. And could you bring another dark beer as well?"
We climbed to the fourth floor and entered our room. It was spacious, and it only had one bed. Not that it mattered to me, because I didn't need to sleep.
Rena undressed by the bathroom. I sat in the corner, looking away toward the window. The sound of each piece of clothing falling to the floor filled the room. Rena started running the hot water and then stepped inside.
Her voice drifted out, mixed with the steam. "Isn't it great how convenient things are these days? Even hot water is convenient."
The technology to draw and heat water was first developed in Embermere, the city-state known for its engineering prowess. From there, it spread to the Free Confederation and the Empire. This all happened about a century ago.
A leisurely reply came through the humidity. "Why? Can't I comment on how great things are just because I'm young?"
"Would you like to join? We don't have to stop at just a bath, you know."
"Aww, a dark beer and a bath are a perfect combo. You sure?"
I ignored the absurd joke, keeping my gaze focused beyond the window with the sword resting against me.
Lost in thought, I muttered to myself, "I hate confined spaces."
Images of the numerous cages in the depths of the Barren Underground Tomb surfaced in my mind. Those cages, perfectly sized to fit a single skeleton, had haunted me.
Being trapped in a cage like that amplified helplessness and pain. I, too, had once been confined in such a cage. Many high-ranking demons had used Skeleton Soldiers to imprison them with those.
While I was absorbed in those grim thoughts, Rena's voice startled me.
"Then next time, let's go to a hot spring. They're more spacious, right?"
After about two hours of splashing around, Rena slowly emerged from the bathroom, humming softly. Warm steam followed her out after she opened the door. Wrapped loosely in a large towel, Rena raised both hands to tousle her damp black hair.
I caught a glimpse of her healthy, slightly tan skin and her well-proportioned limbs. She smiled as our eyes met.
"Like what you see? Should I drop the towel?" she teased, tugging playfully at the towel's knot.
Her stomach rumbled, breaking the atmosphere she'd tried so hard to set. The mood she had orchestrated crumbled under her own hunger.
I laughed, my bones shaking slightly.
Rena's face flushed a deep red. She slipped under the blanket and turned away, but it didn't bother me.
Right on time, a knock came at the door for dinner. I accepted it and called Rena, who was hiding in the bed.
"One serving should be enough to fill you up."
She groaned but emerged to eat.
Nineteen was a fitting age for someone with a good appetite. With my sword in hand, I observed her briefly as she ate before sitting off to the side. I positioned myself with a clear view of the door, prepared to strike and interrogate any intruders. However, after the meal was served, no one else came.
With Rena's silly comments urging me to take off my armor, the late autumn night eventually passed.
That was Rena's first utterance around noon when she woke up. There was an unusual charm in her untidy, disheveled state. She pulled her hands out from underneath the blanket and raised them to her head, taming her messy hair.
"Too early?" I asked. "It's already noon."
"Exactly. You should've taken that armor off when I asked. This is all your fault, you know?"
Maybe I shouldn't have raised her Affection.
Once her Affection level passed twenty, such teasing remarks came out as if by habit. It was mildly exhausting.
Is she mocking me for being incapable of physical intimacy?
"Status screen,” I muttered while looking at Rena.
With a faint chime, her status window appeared. Our time together had raised her Affection stat again; it was now 29. The thought of what would happen if it exceeded 30 gave me a slight headache.
I might need to bring that down a bit.
Ignoring Rena's playful jabs, I responded with a stoic silence.
Eventually, she shifted to a more serious topic. "We should gather supplies for firebombs. Have you ever used one?"
I shook my head. I had never used one nor been on the receiving end of one.
It probably seemed absurd, considering my experience on chaotic battlefields with various weapons. However, Skeleton Soldiers on the front lines were never given proper gear.
Once a battle started, it didn't last long. We weren't briefed on strategies or given proper training. We were used as a disposable cushion to absorb enemy attacks.
On the battlefield, Skeleton Soldier units would be decimated within three minutes. In war, they were nothing more than sacrificial lambs. The swords they wielded were rusty, blunt relics.
"I've never used a weapon like that,” I replied.
"It's not difficult. Just throw it so it breaks on impact. The jar will shatter and go whoosh! A fire cloud then bursts out. If you mix in something sticky, the flames will cling and be even more effective."
"Let's go buy the materials."
"Do you think they sell oil here?"
"They'll sell anything if you have money. Normally, anyway. And if they don't... we can stir things up a bit."
I was not entirely sure what she had in mind, but I decided to follow her lead. We stepped outside, and Rena led the way through narrow alleys between tightly packed houses while consulting a city map. I walked beside her, keeping watch.
Sunlight barely reached these alleyways, and the smell of opium was strong enough for me to detect it.
"Quite consistent here," Rena commented.
"If this is a drug den, you'd expect a wider variety. But there's no scent of silphium or hashish. It's all opium."
"What does that imply?" I asked.
Rena lowered her voice and answered, "Probably rationing."
The people loitering in the alleys had vacant expressions. Those in ragged clothes looked far worse off than the guards at the gate, as their eyes were more unfocused. Upon seeing me in my plate armor, some flinched with a faint, powerless wariness in their gaze.
We reached a general store at the end of the alley. Rena peered inside briefly. The shop was sizable, far greater than a place for basic necessities. Though there was only one floor, it could comfortably accommodate about twenty people at a time. Every inch was packed with goods.
A separate red-painted shed stood nearby, catching Rena's attention. She sniffed the air slightly.
"They have plenty of gasoline."
We entered the shop, where a man in a navy jacket greeted us.
His gray hair was neatly tousled, and his short beard was well-maintained. Peering into his eyes, it was hard to tell if he was under the influence of opium.
He scanned the rows of drawers behind the counter. The numerous drawers extended well beyond his height. Each one was marked with a unique symbol, presumably for the shopkeeper's reference.
"What are you looking for?"
"First, I'll take 30 empty bottles," Rena answered.
"Empty bottles? I don't even have 3, let alone 30. Why bottles?"
Rena frowned. "A general store with no empty bottles? That's odd. Then I'll take your cheapest bottled liquor... and a barrel of tar."
"What? You do have gasoline, right?"
"Isn't that shed outside filled with gasoline? I can smell it."
Rena pointed toward the red-painted shed outside.
"Ah, I can't sell that. It's reserved for someone else. All pre-sold. And what's that armored guy looking for?"
Rena smirked, puffing out her chest as she tapped my armored chest, the clang echoing faintly in the store.
"He's my husband. A fine free knight."
The shopkeeper's expression remained firm. "I told you. It’s out of stock."
He pursed his lips tightly, looking resolute.
"Is it because we're outsiders? When did general stores stop selling to paying customers?"
The shopkeeper leaned forward, planting his hands on the counter. His hands were thick and calloused. "When I say I'm not selling, that's final. We're different here."
The two argued for a while, attracting glances from other customers and even passersby outside.
Rena's argument seemed deliberately provocative, almost as if she was intentionally drawing attention. The shopkeeper's refusals were curt and straightforward.
After about thirty minutes, he finally snapped.
"Just leave! You're disturbing my business!"
"I'll keep bothering you! Why won't you sell what's clearly available?"
I motioned to Rena. "Let's go."
I didn't know her full intentions, but she'd garnered enough attention. Then, I felt the presence of someone trailing us from behind.
"Someone's following us."
"Soon enough, there'll be more. They'll try to ambush us, no doubt."
“Guess I'll have to rely on you!” Rena exclaimed.