“All done.”
Eddie smiled in satisfaction. The task hadn’t been particularly hard—just applying some MadaXsol and sticking on a sheet.
The wound on Ketron’s exposed side wasn’t too serious. Or rather, it wasn’t serious anymore.
What remained now was a large, bumpy scar, the kind that made it hard to imagine how bad it must’ve looked at the start—like a chunk of flesh had been ripped away and barely scabbed over. But it was healing now, almost completely.
What a waste on such a fine body.
The scar would probably remain forever. Maybe for life. Eddie muttered that with a strange sense of regret as he diligently applied the ointment.
Ketron’s bare upper body was… something else. Magnificent, really. So much so that Eddie felt sorry for someone else’s body being marred by a big scar.
That body—no matter how crude Eddie’s vocabulary was—was probably what every guy dreamed of having. Even calling it “sculpted” didn’t do it justice.
Muscles so tightly packed and defined, there didn’t seem to be a single soft spot. Covered with small scars that screamed he’d crossed death’s threshold more than once.
His large build, with that sheer physicality, was practically a weapon in itself. Whoever could injure that body must’ve been one hell of a monster.
Eddie remembered clearly how the novel’s combat scenes were so vivid they made you forget to breathe while reading. Maybe because the author had a particular knack for describing battle scenes with raw intensity.
Ketron had been intelligent, adaptive in battle. And his physical ability matched his tactical mind.
Those high-octane fight scenes had been one of the biggest draws of The Hero Doesn’t Hide His Power That Well.
But that was only when Eddie had been a reader.
Now, seeing with his own eyes the scars from those mortal battles, it finally sank in a little—he really was a resident of this cursed fantasy world.
Ketron wasn’t just a character in a book anymore.
He was a person who lived in the same world as Eddie.
Hiding his conflicted thoughts, Eddie shook the medicine bottle cheerfully.
“Okay! Now just take this miracle—well, ten-disease cure-all pill, and you’re done!”
Ketron gave the tiniest hint of skepticism at the so-called miracle pill, whose potency had likely been diluted to one-thousandth of its original strength.
But Eddie couldn’t help it. In his world, everyone had a bottle of this stuff at home—painkillers sold like a magic fix-all—but even he felt a little guilty hyping it up like some divine cure.
Eddie popped out a tablet and placed it in Ketron’s hand. The boy simply stared at the small pill sitting in his large palm.
“It works pretty well for pain,” Eddie explained. “Headaches from colds, toothaches, period cramps… even—uh, whatever rheumatoid pain is. Might not be a cure, but it’ll make you hurt less.”
But Ketron shook his head.
“I don’t need painkillers.”
“Why? You look like you’re in pain.”
“I’m used to it.”
And indeed, for Ketron, this wasn’t even worth calling an injury.
Bones crushed, falling off cliffs, organs spilling out while slashing enemies with a broken rib—he’d been through worse.
This scar that was just a trace of an old wound? It didn’t even sting enough to warrant a painkiller.
But he hadn’t expected Eddie to look at him with even more pity after that flat response.
“A kid like you… how much did you suffer…”
Eddie muttered it under his breath, but thanks to his affinity with mana, Ketron’s senses were more developed than most. He heard it like Eddie had said it right next to his ear.
Kid, he thought, his face twisting in disbelief.
Eddie didn’t look much older than him.
Eddie gathered his expression again and ended up shoving the whole bottle into Ketron’s hand. Then, looking at him with this weird mix of fondness and sympathy, reached out and gently patted his head.
“Still, if you can, take it.”
A warm hand brushed over his head, following the natural line of his hair. Ketron froze completely.
It wasn’t just that the gesture was unfamiliar—it was something he’d never once experienced in his life.
Last time, Eddie had done the same thing without even thinking, and Ketron had been too disoriented to react.
But now, even fully aware, he couldn’t bring himself to reject it.
And maybe it was just his imagination, but… the way Eddie stroked his hair felt oddly like how one would pet a cat or something.
“Didn’t I say? You can stay here as long as you want. Don’t worry about it. Just take it easy.”
It really was like he was treating him as some kind of feline.
“Get some rest, Ket.”
At the use of that nickname—one that almost made it sound like Eddie had already accepted some truth about his suspicions—Ketron’s face crumpled slightly.
* * *
He said his name was Eddie.
Eddie had told him that if he wanted, he could come downstairs and eat anytime. That he’d always be there.
Ketron had wanted to ask again—why are you being so kind to me—but figured the answer would probably just be a repeat of what he’d heard before. So he didn’t.
Eddie brought back the clothes Ketron had been wearing—Gerold had apparently cleaned them in an instant using magic—and then left.
Thanks to that, Ketron changed into the freshly laundered clothes and, for the first time in three days since arriving in this room, cautiously lay down on the bed.
There weren’t any “room types” at this inn, so the bed wasn’t anything fancy. But it was soft. Surprisingly clean.
Maybe it’s just because we’re in the capital, he thought.
But no, he’d stayed in enough capital inns to know most were filthy. This cleanliness was clearly one of this inn’s specialties.
Clean. Cozy.
Just like that man.
“….”
Without realizing, Ketron found his mind drifting back to him.
That man who claimed to be just an ordinary innkeeper.
But nothing about him was ordinary. Not his appearance, not his actions.
His sparkling silver hair, those strange violet eyes—anyone would assume he was of noble blood.
Not that Ketron was a classist or anything.
In the Reneba Empire, silver hair was rare. And Eddie’s wasn’t just some dull gray being passed off as silver—it was the real deal. A shimmering silver-blonde.
And then there was his accent—polished, aristocratic.
Yet here he was, acting like some commoner innkeeper in the capital.
Was he some noble family’s illegitimate child?
And those strange items he carried. That banana milk thing—Ketron had never heard of it, despite traveling all over the continent. Even the so-called Eastern goods he showed him were completely foreign.
Ketron reached toward his side.
He could feel the ointment Eddie had applied, smooth and slightly sticky under the sheet.
Whether it would work or not… or even if it was poisonous… didn’t matter much. Ketron had no lingering attachments to life.
He closed his eyes.
But sleep didn’t come.
His heart kept rustling restlessly. His chest felt tight, like something was stuck, even though he hadn’t eaten enough to be full.
After tossing and turning a few times, Ketron finally sat up.
It wasn’t that he had anything urgent to do.
He just couldn’t stand lying still—his body, never used to rest, simply didn’t know what to do with itself.
「Where are you going?」
The “filthy sword,” which had been silent in anger until now, abruptly spoke up as Ketron made to move.
“Downstairs.”
「What for?」
The Albatross, having asked the question, immediately answered it with a smug tone.
「Getting soft ‘cause someone was a little nice to you?」
Even though it was vague, Ketron knew exactly what it meant.
That “someone” was obviously the innkeeper.
Ketron looked at the sword silently.
Getting soft, huh.
What a ridiculous thing to say.
Even the Albatross knew it wasn’t true.
No one recovers from being erased from the world in just a few days.
He still believed he was someone who could die without consequence. Nothing left to lose. Not even his life.
Nothing worth clinging to in this world.
But, yes—he had to admit, a little…
Just a little bit, he felt better. Whether Eddie intended it or not, his absurd behavior had helped.
His mood, his will to live—something, at least, had shifted.
But to have the sword of all things point it out…
Ketron let out a dry smile. It was nothing close to a warm one.
“And you?”
「What about me.」
“You, who’s always judging people by how they look.”
The Albatross immediately caught on.
Ketron was calling him out for how he froze earlier, worried Eddie might get hurt.
The sword flailed indignantly.
「I was just worried you’d be inconvenienced if that guy got hurt because of me!」
“Inconvenienced?”
Unbelievable.
If you exaggerated a little, a fifth of the trouble Ketron had ever faced was thanks to the Albatross throwing tantrums.
That ill-tempered sword never held back if it didn’t like someone. And if it had been anyone else earlier, it would’ve just crushed them without hesitation.
But this time, it hadn’t.
No one knew this—not even the book described it—but the sacred sword Albatross was a massive sucker for pretty faces.
And yet, the sword sounded genuinely indignant.
「You think I stopped because he’s good-looking?!」
“Then why did you stop?”
「……」
The Albatross went quiet. Then, uncharacteristically hesitant, murmured softly.
「He sees.」
“…?”
Ketron hadn’t seen what happened—he’d been in the bath at the time.
The Albatross let out a low snort and fell silent again, like it was the one who started this conversation but now didn’t want to be bothered anymore.
But this moody behavior was nothing new. Ketron ignored it and stepped out of the room.
As he descended the stairs, he paused halfway and glanced toward the first floor.
Even though it was midday, the place was dead quiet.
…Is business this bad?
There had to be tons of tourists in the Empire right now. Surely demand for food was high.
The empty inn made Ketron worry a bit.
Still, it was spacious and clean. And considering this place was in the capital’s central plaza—the most expensive land in the entire Empire—it probably didn’t matter whether business was booming or not.
While mentally revisiting the “Eddie-is-a-noble” theory, Ketron caught sight of Eddie stepping out of the kitchen—and their eyes met directly.
“….”
“….”
Both froze.
As if that would hide anything, Ketron reflexively stepped back up one stair.
Of course, he knew it was pointless.
That wouldn’t erase what had just happened, and Eddie definitely wasn’t the type to pretend he hadn’t noticed.
Sure enough, Eddie didn’t even try to hide it. Seeing Ketron standing there with an awkward expression, he called out with a cheerful smile.
“Ket, perfect timing.”
That damned nickname.
Before Ketron could complain, Eddie spoke again.
“I was just about to try making a new menu item, but I’m short on hands. If you’re up for it, want to help?”
“……”
“We can eat together after. Sound good?”
Ketron hesitated.
Not about whether to help him or not.
He was debating whether he should let that man keep calling him by that ridiculous nickname.
Ket, of all things.
It wasn’t just embarrassing—it didn’t suit him at all. It made him sound like some lovable kitten or something.
But Ketron quickly changed his mind.
What did it matter what someone called him?
Besides, if he told Eddie to stop saying “Ket,” he’d probably start calling him “baby” or “sweetie” or some other horror.
He wouldn’t be staying here long anyway.
A nickname like that, he could endure for a while.
Not yet realizing this was a very wrong assumption, Ketron nodded, accepting Eddie’s words as “help out to earn your meal.”