Since that outing, Eddie and Ketron had begun going outside the inn together more frequently.
Of course, it wasn’t anything grand. They just strolled through a nearby park, wandered around the neighborhood, or visited the market. At first, Ketron had been reluctant to go out at all, but before long, he had become so accustomed to it that he would sometimes wait for Eddie first.
Our Ket finally wants to go out on his own!
Of course, when Eddie got overly excited and fussed about it, Ketron scowled and nearly refused to go out again—but despite the mishaps, their little excursions had become part of a daily routine.
During that time, Eddie bought a few clothes for Ketron at the market, along with several skeins of yarn. Surprisingly, knitting existed in this world too.
For Eddie, it was something nostalgic. In his childhood, he had sat beside his mother each winter on the couch, knitting dishcloths and scarves she made for him by hand.
“Nice, that’s what we call a cable stitch. You’re really good at this—must be your mother’s son.”
“….”
Eddie’s expression darkened slightly as he looked at the yarn and knitting needles. A tightness caught in his chest, like something stuck beneath his ribs. He bit his lip, then soon returned to his usual expression.
With a faint smile, as if his face had never fallen in the first place, he called out brightly to Ketron.
“Ket! Let’s go work out!”
That day’s outing was a lap around the park.
Easily coaxing Ketron out, Eddie waved to Gerold and marched confidently out of the inn.
Of course, “park” was a generous term. It was really a dirt path circling a large lake—far from the manicured greenery of a modern park—but the crisp air of the cooling season filled their lungs with a certain brisk clarity that wasn’t unpleasant.
Granted, once it got colder, such casual strolls would probably be impossible… but Eddie, who proudly considered himself a certified “I-love-ice-drinks-even-in-winter” type, wasn’t bothered by the cold and figured it would be fine.
“Ket, want some?”
Eddie took a sip of a sports drink he’d brought from the convenience store earlier and held it out.
Ketron narrowed his eyes at the suspiciously blue liquid. Ever since the Americano incident, he’d developed a habit of hesitating before accepting anything from Eddie.
Still, as always, he eventually took it and gave it a tentative taste.
And then, unexpectedly, began gulping it down with ease.
“…It’s not bad.”
The 600ml bottle was empty in seconds.
Should’ve brought another one.
Making a mental note, Eddie beamed with satisfaction.
Yep. My little kitty definitely has a sweet tooth.
Though Eddie called it exercise, it was nothing more than one lap around the lake. They were done quickly.
He continued walking, still holding onto Ketron’s sleeve, and thankfully, Ketron didn’t shake him off or reject the touch. Eddie took that as a good sign—proof that Ketron was adjusting well to the outside world.
Although he still flinched slightly when strangers brushed past him, at least he wasn’t shutting down.
It’s going well.
Eddie thought so. Everything seemed to be going smoothly.
But it didn’t take long for that illusion to shatter.
* * *
Later that day, after the walk, Ketron came down to the first floor alone.
He’d grown tired of the sacred sword’s constant noise.
Since realizing he’d been forgotten and betrayed, the sacred sword had been even more furious than Ketron himself—ranting endlessly about revenge. Now, perhaps annoyed by Ketron’s apparent complacency, the sword had been louder than ever.
⟪Weren’t you only staying until your wounds healed?⟫
Ketron had no rebuttal. The injuries had long since healed. Only faint marks remained—barely visible. In the past, such wounds wouldn’t have even counted as injuries. The sacred sword was pointing out exactly that.
Still, while disapproving, the sword hadn’t pushed Ketron too hard. Almost as if it understood why.
“Hoo…”
Ketron sighed and rubbed his face with dry hands.
Even he didn’t know why he wasn’t leaving. Why he lingered here day after day, when he’d once acted as though he’d storm out the moment he was well.
Why didn’t the thought of leaving even occur to him anymore?
Was this really okay? Just staying here, doing nothing?
He no longer carried some grand mission to save the world. That had already faded into ash. And beyond that… there wasn’t anything else he particularly wanted to do.
The sacred sword demanded revenge, but that felt impossibly distant. Where would he even begin?
Maybe… just maybe… it would be okay to rest for a little while.
A weak thought. But he couldn't help it.
If he said it aloud, the innkeeper—no, Eddie—would no doubt smile like it was nothing and say:
“Of course. Why not? Rest all you want, Ket.”
He always added that nickname, even though he knew Ketron didn’t like it. Treated him like a cat. He really would say it with such affection.
Just imagining it made all his worries seem silly. It made him feel like everything might be okay.
As Ketron leaned back in his chair with those thoughts in mind…
Noise erupted outside.
More precisely, from beyond the inn’s front door—an excited buzz of voices.
“It’s really him!”
“Lucky! We ran right into him!”
Ketron’s eyes narrowed. He didn’t know what the commotion was about.
The clamor grew louder, and by the time Ketron was frowning, the source of the noise had boldly swung open the inn’s front door and walked inside.
The first thing he saw was an enormous, muscle-bound figure. Clad in stark white—his favored color—the man stood out immediately, a wide grin on his face.
It was a face Ketron knew all too well.
And in that instant, the sense of ease he’d just found vanished—his chest tightened so abruptly he had to swallow a breath.
A tall, blond man in priestly white robes, with a long staff strapped across his back.
One of the so-called heroes from the original party, known as the divine warrior. Augustine.
“They say this place serves some crazy snacks?”
His vivid green eyes curled with amusement. Though dressed like a priest, his presence was unmistakably that of a warrior.
He was far removed from the image of a man kneeling before divinity in humble prayer. While he embodied divine power in his own way, he preferred fighting over peace.
Ketron had met Augustine five years ago. They had clashed over a misunderstanding—Ketron won—and Augustine had asked to join his journey.
“You’re incredible, Ketron!”
If Ketron had to name a single friend in his life, it would have been Augustine. Despite their age difference, if they weren’t friends, what else could they be?
But after the Demon King’s defeat, Augustine never came looking for him.
At first, Ketron had been more shocked than anything—wondering if Augustine had betrayed him too.
But soon, he realized that Augustine wasn’t that kind of person.
No, Augustine had been caught in the magic as well. Forgotten Ketron entirely.
And that was what had made their betrayal so successful.
So effortless.
Ketron stared at his lost friend without realizing it. The man who had never left his side—now a stranger after so long—looked exactly the same.
Titles, fame, hero worship… none of it had changed him.
Augustine, surveying the inn, locked eyes with Ketron.
“Oh?”
His eyes curved immediately.
Ketron’s heart dropped. For a second, he wondered if Augustine had recognized him. But there was no warmth in his gaze. No trace of familiarity.
Augustine scanned him from head to toe and casually walked over, taking the seat across from him without hesitation.
The inn’s guests couldn’t help but stare. The striking contrast between the large man in pure white and the shadowy figure sitting opposite him was eye-catching, even without fame involved.
“You’ve got a solid build.”
That voice—
“Hey, kid, you're built pretty good, huh?”
“Where’d you crawl out of?”
“Where’d a guy like you come from?”
Voices from the past overlapped with the present.
“Your eyes have a good look.”
That one—Ketron had never heard before. Back then, he’d just been a venomous, scrawny boy.
Unconsciously, his expression soured.
Augustine waved a hand as if to reassure him.
“No bad intentions. Don’t take it the wrong way. It’s just… with my level of experience, I can tell a lot just by looking. And you’ve got some real presence.”
He scratched the back of his head, noticing Ketron’s guarded demeanor.
“People tell me I should be more careful with how I speak. Hard habit to break.”
Then came that familiar cheerful grin.
If you’re gonna talk so much, at least fix your tone. You always make things more awkward than they have to be.
That was the thing Ketron had told him more than anything else. Augustine was talkative—blunt, inconsiderate of others’ feelings—and constantly misunderstood because of it.
The retort echoed in his memory:
Are you really the one to say that? No matter how much trouble I cause, it’s nothing compared to the chaos Albatross creates.
As Ketron sank into the weight of those memories, Augustine tilted his head.
“Who said that again? My memory’s been kinda fuzzy lately. Weird, right? I’m still young.”
“…”
He didn’t even realize it himself.
The evidence of Augustine’s forgetfulness—suddenly, in this place, at this moment—suffocated Ketron more than Arthur or Boram’s betrayal ever had.
Ketron shot to his feet.
He needed to get out of there. The stares were oppressive. The air felt too heavy.
“Hey, hold on a sec.”
But Augustine wasn’t letting him leave so easily.
“If I made you uncomfortable, sorry—but if you’re not in a rush, how about a quick sparring match? You seem like you’d be a good opponent.”
“…”
“I haven’t had a real workout in a while. You look like you’d do the trick.”
Well? Wanna step outside?
Augustine’s smile was bright and harmless. Brimming with that innocent belief that the other person would agree—just like he always had.
It wasn’t like Eddie’s warmth. This was something else entirely, and somehow… Ketron couldn’t bring himself to refuse.