Eddie’s inn was slowly, very slowly, starting to gain more customers.
The three men who had first tried the Fire Chicken Noodles screamed as they breathed fire—“Gyaaah!” “My mouth is burning with the flames of hell!” “Milk! Please! I’ll take as much as you’ve got!”—yet somehow, whether due to the strange addictiveness of the spice, they came back two days later.
“Hey, what was that, Fire Chicken Noodle? Gimme some more of that.”
This time, they actually placed a proper order.
“Boss, that thing you gave us yesterday—it's not on the menu?”
“What thing?”
“You know, that milk—Manana or Banana or whatever it was.”
“Ah, I’ll give it to you again today.”
“You don’t sell it?”
“Nope, it’s not for sale.”
One of the men showed clear disappointment about the banana milk. Still, the fact that he licked his lips at the promise of getting another bottle suggested he really liked it.
That day as well, the men breathed fire after eating the Fire Chicken Noodles and ended up wrecking the inn’s bathroom.
“This is weird! It hurts like hell when I’m eating it, but when I get home, I keep thinking about it!”
“I spent the whole night in the bathroom. My wife was furious.”
“But I still wanna eat it again.”
The men left chattering about how bizarre it was.
Whether those guys had started spreading rumors or not, people began trickling into Eddie’s inn, curious about the ridiculously spicy but strangely savory new menu item.
Most of them also ended up breathing fire and howling in agony. Some swore never to eat it again, but plenty found themselves hopelessly addicted to that strange taste.
Along with the noodles, other items like fried fish—which paired well with the spiciness—started selling better too.
But what really sealed the deal was the banana milk that Eddie handed out to every customer. Some people even started coming in purely to get their hands on that one item.
He got endless requests to start selling it, but Eddie adamantly shook his head every time.
Absolutely not. That was a bait item.
However, even the inn’s seemingly successful new specialty menu eventually hit a slump. Not because it had lost popularity or wasn’t a hot topic anymore.
“The Hero’s party finally returns the day after tomorrow.”
While slowly nibbling on the Fire Chicken Noodles—too spicy to finish in one go—some men chatted within Eddie’s earshot.
“I’ve been waiting so long.”
“Every flower shop in the capital is sold out. Rumor says the Emperor told them to spare no expense with the parade.”
“They’ll be throwing silver coins too. The kids in the neighborhood are going nuts.”
“You think it’s just the kids?”
They laughed and talked about it with bright, carefree faces, completely free of worry.
“Ah.”
From that conversation, Eddie had a realization.
No wonder the number of lodging guests had increased so strangely.
It wasn’t that the regulars from nearby had stopped coming—but rather that, thanks to the upcoming grand festival and parade for the returning Hero’s party, the number of tourists visiting the Empire had increased, and naturally, so had the inn’s overnight guests.
Of course, visitors from afar weren’t likely to be interested in the inn’s newly famous spicy noodles, so the Fire Chicken Noodles had taken a temporary hit.
“Hmm.”
‘So all those reservation requests flooding in since last week were because of the parade. I thought people were just trying to destroy the bathroom here instead of at home.’
Since Eddie’s inn didn’t jack up prices for peak season, it was a prime spot for tourists.
The food wasn’t anything spectacular, but for people who just needed a clean place to stay, Eddie’s inn had a good location and decent prices—making it an ideal choice.
And the owner of that excellent inn now sat at a table, tapping it with a rather serious expression.
“What should I do.”
Was he regretting not raising prices? Wondering if he should launch a new dish to capitalize on the influx? No. That wasn’t it.
The problem was that he had gotten so caught up in running a business, he had momentarily forgotten that he was inside a fantasy novel.
The ending of <The Hero Doesn’t Hide His Power Too Well> resurfaced in Eddie’s mind.
The parade to welcome the Hero’s return, and the protagonist Ketron, still wounded and betrayed, watching it with pain in his heart.
Leaning against an inn wall, he closed his eyes in agony—and the novel ended as he opened them again, fully consumed by darkness, vowing to destroy everything.
Blackening.
“Uuugh.”
Eddie grimaced, unsettled.
Ketron was a genius. Not just any genius—a once-in-a-century prodigy. Born with absurd mana affinity, he stood at the peak of both magic and swordsmanship. An overpowered protagonist among overpowered protagonists.
He was also young. Only twenty years old this year. Aside from being a bit stoic and curt, the novel described his looks as angelically handsome, complete with a glowing aura.
Black hair, black eyes, and a silent swordsman prodigy. A classic and beautiful setup.
But maybe because of that setup, Ketron never once had a romantic subplot. Eddie, who wasn’t fond of harem stories, had been pleased by that, though he still would’ve liked a single heroine. The most likely candidate had been the saint Layla—but given how the ending turned out, romance was out of the question.
No, that wasn’t the issue. The problem was that Ketron blackened.
He had been a just and upright protagonist. Unlike the trend of morally gray or justice-be-damned antiheroes, <The Hero Doesn’t Hide His Power Too Well> was a fairly traditional fantasy tale, with Ketron’s righteousness serving as the core logic behind much of the story.
Sure, he had his emotionally detached or brutal moments—likely for plot convenience—but he was fundamentally just.
And yet he blackened.
The author, perhaps clinging to a shred of conscience, did lay out a small hint in the text: that if something ever happened to reintroduce Ketron to the world’s memory, perhaps everyone would remember him again. But the story ended without ever confirming whether that was a red herring or not.
Ketron’s blackening.
It was such an ill-fitting phrase it made Eddie feel hopeless.
What happens if a protagonist with sky-high stats turns vengeful? What if that towering figure sets his sights on revenge against his former comrades and the Empire?
For Eddie—who wanted to live a quiet, steady second life—that possibility was terrifying.
He wanted to stop it. But how?
All he had was a healthy body, an inn, and a convenience store in the basement thanks to the perks of transmigration. He wasn’t someone with any special powers.
Even if he tried to expose the Hero’s imposters, how many people would believe him? Ketron was forgotten, and they were hailed as the continent’s saviors.
He wanted to meet Ketron—but couldn’t. The novel wasn’t kind enough to provide that kind of detail. It never said how Ketron entered the Empire, where he watched the parade, or which inn wall he leaned against.
Even if Eddie did find him, what could he possibly say? Wouldn’t it look suspicious? Everyone had forgotten Ketron. If some no-name innkeeper suddenly showed up claiming to know the truth...
“Man, one problem after another.”
Eddie scratched his cheek. His endless optimism was usually a strength, but it didn’t help here. There was no obvious solution.
Just as his inn was finally getting back on track, a mountain-sized threat he had tried to forget suddenly loomed back into view.
He had to do something.
He couldn’t just sit back and watch the protagonist blacken. Eddie fell into deep thought.
All he knew was that Ketron would be somewhere in the capital, watching the parade. With nothing else to go on, thinking hard was all he could do.
And sure enough, two days flew by in an instant. The day of the parade arrived.
* * *
That day, Eddie couldn’t sleep in—not with the racket outside.
Even before dawn broke, the streets were already loud. Half-awake, he peeked out through the curtains and saw a sea of people.
They were claiming good spots early to watch the parade.
Though it was autumn and the early morning chill was sharp, it couldn’t dampen the people’s excitement.
The parade routes had been cleared, and everyone held a basket of flowers, faces brimming with joy and anticipation.
“……”
And yet the man who had sacrificed everything for those smiling faces was now wounded, forgotten, somewhere in this Empire, watching that same scene unfold.
With a deep, complicated sigh, Eddie got up. He wouldn’t be sleeping again.
It had been a long time since he’d gone out. Then again, “long time” was silly when he’d only ever taken a few short walks around the plaza where the inn was located.
He still hadn’t fully adjusted to this Empire—or rather, this world. The idea of going out alone felt heavy.
To Eddie, who had been living as though the inn was the entire world, this outing required some mental preparation.
He washed his face, fixed his hair, and picked out a decent outfit from the wardrobe.
The man in the mirror still looked unfamiliar. Quietly brushing back his silver hair, Eddie finished getting ready and stepped outside.
Ketron must already be inside the Empire by now.
The real problem was, Eddie had no clue when exactly Ketron would blacken.
The parade ran through the entire morning, but no matter how hard he racked his brain, he couldn’t recall any detail from the novel about where or when Ketron watched it.
No location. No time.
He’d just have to walk the whole city.
Thanks to all the guests leaving to watch the parade, the inn was emptier than it had been since Eddie first arrived.
With the parade underway and the famed Hero’s party in full view, who would want to stay cooped up indoors? This was a once-in-a-lifetime sight.
Plus, the Emperor would be tossing silver coins himself—no one was going to stay behind and eat noodles.
“Gerold, I’m going to check out the parade for a bit.”
Eddie, who usually barely moved from the inn like some shut-in, finally had the perfect excuse.
Gerold didn’t seem particularly interested in the parade. He simply nodded while tending to the inn.
What am I even going to say if I find him? It’s not like there was an illustration of Ketron. Will I even recognize him? How do I even talk him down from blackening?
With those thoughts swirling, Eddie stepped outside—and immediately almost tripped on something.
“Uagh!”
Barely catching himself on the doorframe, he scowled.
“Ugh, that could’ve been bad.”
Did someone leave a log here? Who the hell dumps stuff in front of someone else’s inn?
As Eddie turned to see what it was, something dark entered his vision.
It didn’t take long to realize it was a cloak—draped over someone’s entire body.
Then came jet-black hair that absorbed all light.
A black cloak that seemed perfectly matched with that hair turned the man into a single dark, massive silhouette.
He had something long and huge, wrapped in cloth, strapped to his back. So big the cloak couldn’t even hide it.
Black hair, black cloak, eyes closed—but a face so stunningly beautiful it couldn’t be hidden, even like that. A face drenched in tears.
Anyone who had read <The Hero Doesn’t Hide His Power Too Well> wouldn’t fail to recognize that man.
The forgotten, tragic hero—Ketron.
It had to be him.
Eddie’s mind instantly recalled the novel’s final scene.
[The Hero Ketron slumped down against the wall of an inn. He had just witnessed the betrayal of his former comrades with his own eyes. Tears streamed down his face. As he closed his eyes, trembling in anguish, he resolved to destroy everything.
And when he opened them again, they blazed with the fire of vengeance.]
The inn wall. He slumped against the inn wall...
As the realization finally hit, Eddie’s jaw dropped.
…Wait. That inn was my inn?!