The market. The market, he said.
Of course, even if Ketron was a Hero, he’d lived like a mercenary, so escort duties were something he was more than familiar with.
He’d guarded nobles, and even foreign royalty on occasion. Ketron was a veteran among veterans.
But even for him, being asked to escort someone just to the market was a first. And no matter how many times he double-checked, it wasn’t a metaphor—it really was that kind of market. The kind with vegetables and such.
“You’ll come with me, right?”
“……”
The smiling face didn’t seem to consider refusal an option. Of course, Ketron was the kind of man who wouldn’t hesitate to refuse no matter how cheerful or sour the other party looked—if he didn’t want to, he didn’t. But for some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to say no to this man.
No matter how petty the errand, this was someone who’d shown him kindness and offered help.
Besides, just yesterday, in an attempt to repay his meal, he’d tried to help—and ended up doing nothing but transmuting a pile of food waste.
Ketron frowned, recalling the cloudy broth left after the starch dissolved, and the noodles that had been boiled past the point of no return until they split into mushy strands. And the man in front of him, who didn’t get angry in the slightest and instead handed him a new pack of noodles with a storm of praise.
After a moment’s hesitation, Ketron ultimately couldn’t bring himself to turn away from that smiling face and gave a nod.
“Thanks.”
The man’s face lit up. Ketron didn’t particularly mind seeing it. He quietly pushed back his hair, damp and stuck to his skin with sweat.
And while doing so, he internally justified it—this trivial favor was just repayment for the disastrous noodles from yesterday.
Otherwise, there was no real reason for him to get involved in something so insignificant.
* * *
While Ketron washed up and got ready to go out, Eddie headed down to the basement convenience store and brewed a cup of coffee. The familiar hum of the machine filled the air, and the rich aroma of roasted beans spread through the shop.
“Mmm. Nothing beats an iced Americano.”
Despite the creeping winter chill, Eddie, founding member of the Ice Americano Even in Winter Club, peeled open an ice cup and poured the drink over it.
“Gerold, I’m heading to the market with Ket.”
Eddie called out to Gerold, who was cleaning the first floor. Gerold knew Eddie was heading out but hadn’t expected him to be going with Ketron, and his expression tightened.
“With that outsider, sir?”
“His name is Ketron.”
Gerold still clearly resented Ketron’s presence in Eddie’s inn. He wouldn’t even say the man’s name properly, and made no effort to hide his displeasure. But since it was Eddie’s decision, all he could do was tolerate it.
I wonder when those two will finally warm up to each other.
Unaware that day might never come, Eddie sipped his coffee with a quiet slurp.
In the meantime, Ketron came downstairs, ready to go. He didn’t have the sacred sword on his back.
For a trip to the local market, not only was a sacred sword unnecessary—any kind of weapon felt excessive. And even if it were concealed, the sword’s sheer size and uniquely extravagant appearance would draw attention regardless. Leaving it behind was the right choice.
Of course, with or without a sword, even barehanded, Ketron would have no trouble protecting Eddie alone.
“Gerold, we’re off!”
Not wanting to risk a glare-off between Gerold and Ketron, Eddie grabbed Ketron’s arm and quickly dragged him outside.
The air outside was crisp and refreshing. It was getting colder with winter fast approaching.
Worried that Ketron might walk off or get too far ahead, Eddie timidly held on to his sleeve.
“……”
Ketron glanced at the hand clutching his sleeve… and left it there. It didn’t matter to him.
“Brr, it’s a little cold.”
“If it’s cold, why are you drinking something iced?”
“Because I’m team iced Americano forever, duh.”
“…?”
Ketron had no idea what that meant. Obviously, he knew nothing about coffee—not to mention iced Americanos, which even many Italians disliked.
Eddie, amused, smiled mischievously and offered him his cup.
“Wanna try it?”
“What is it?”
“It’s called an Americano… actually, no. Someone with a kid’s palate like you wouldn’t like it.”
Ketron had a notorious sweet tooth, after all.
Eddie casually stabbed straight through Ketron’s pride.
And for someone like Ketron—who had never once been accused of such a thing in his entire life—it was deeply unfair. He hadn’t even had a sweet tooth until meeting this man.
Frowning, Ketron reached out his hand.
“Give it to me.”
Eddie handed over the coffee with a sly grin. Perhaps wanting to prove Eddie wrong and shake off that “kid palate” label, Ketron didn’t hesitate—he took a huge gulp of the coffee.
Whoa. Even I’d find it bitter at that amount… and I added an extra shot.
Sure enough, Ketron’s cheeks puffed out as he gulped down a massive mouthful. He swallowed it all in one go, grimaced intensely, and muttered:
“…Tastes absolutely vile…”
Then, with the air of someone discarding a cursed artifact, he chucked the cup into the nearest bush.
“Huh?”
Eddie watched the ice cup vanish into the shrubbery and blinked, slack-jawed.
Well… it’s not a big deal. I already confirmed that anything brought up from the convenience store automatically disappears a few days after it turns to trash. The plastic cup wouldn’t be a problem.
Still, Eddie tilted his head.
He hadn’t minded losing the drink—it replenished itself daily anyway. But even so, Ketron didn’t strike him as the kind of person who’d toss someone else’s stuff so carelessly, no matter how bad it tasted.
And sure enough, Ketron looked oddly sheepish, as if it hadn’t been entirely intentional.
But it didn’t take him long to recover his composure and declare in a firm voice,
“I suspected it was poisoned, so I threw it away.”
His tone was absurdly confident.
Eddie stared at him, dumbfounded. Poison…?
But once the meaning sank in, Eddie burst into loud, uncontrollable laughter.
Of course, Ketron hadn’t meant it seriously. If he’d truly believed it was poison, he and Eddie both would’ve been vomiting it up by now.
No, what he meant was—it tasted so disgusting, it might as well have been poison. As much as he hated to admit it, that statement was basically a confession that he did have a child’s palate.
Eddie laughed for a long, long time. Ketron scowled and began walking ahead in a huff. Only then did Eddie manage to catch his breath, calling out, “Wait, I’m coming too!” as he caught hold of Ketron’s sleeve again.
Even then, he couldn’t stop giggling.
Poison, he said. Not even spoiled—poison. God, that’s too cute.
Sure, the situation was funny enough on its own. But the way Ketron tossed the drink with such ridiculous seriousness made it even better. Eddie had a feeling he’d remember that line—“I suspected it was poisoned”—for a long time to come. He couldn’t stop laughing.
“Please stop laughing.”
Ketron finally said it, clearly having reached his limit.
Eddie fought hard to hold it in. If Ketron got upset and stormed back to the inn, it’d ruin everything. He had to go to the market today.
Just as Eddie was about to walk again, still suppressing the laughter threatening to spill out, Ketron suddenly reached behind his neck and yanked at something.
Is he hitting me because I laughed too hard? Eddie blinked in surprise.
“…Ket?”
“Nothing.”
Ketron’s gaze turned cold as he looked toward a man who had been watching them from the second floor of the inn.
“There was a bug.”
Crunch.
With a single motion, Ketron crushed what he’d grabbed. The man’s expression twisted as their eyes met. A tremor of mana surged in the air.
As one of the top-tier combat mages among swordsmen, Ketron could see everything.
He continued walking as if nothing happened, and Eddie—still holding on to his sleeve—unwittingly matched his pace.
Left behind, Gerold frowned at the sight… then turned away abruptly.
There was nothing he could do. If Eddie had chosen that man over him as an escort, he had to accept it.
But that didn’t mean he had to like it. Gerold turned away and leaned against the wall, catching his breath.
He could feel the ripple in his heart’s mana rings—a backlash from the magical familiar he’d planted near Eddie being instantly destroyed. It wasn’t enough to wound him, but it was no trivial shock either.
“…That arrogant bastard.”
Gerold spat the words like he was chewing glass. His face had gone pale.