Eddie stared blankly at Ketron’s face, dazed, before shaking his head and snapping back to his senses.
Now was not the time to be spacing out.
He didn’t know how long Ketron had been in this state, but if things followed the novel’s ending, it wouldn’t be long before those eyes would ignite with blue fury and he would fall into darkness. If it could be stopped, shouldn’t it be?
That’s why he’d rushed out into the street first thing in the morning in the first place.
Of course, he didn’t actually have some grand plan to stop the blackening.
This was a world full of monsters who flew around and split boulders in half with one blow using mana. What could an ordinary person like him possibly do?
He’d simply moved because he couldn’t sit still—and now, by sheer dumb luck, the guy had collapsed right in front of him.
“…Ha.”
Still, that face really was absurdly beautiful.
Even the body Eddie possessed was that of a ridiculously handsome man—so much so that it still felt awkward every time he looked in the mirror. But Ketron was on another level entirely.
How could someone look so devastatingly fragile just from crying? With a face like that, streaked with tears and twisted in pain, it stirred sympathy in Eddie whether he wanted to feel it or not.
“Hey.”
Eddie cautiously called out to Ketron in a very small voice.
It wasn’t that Eddie was particularly timid, but his opponent was the problem here.
He hadn't been able to imagine it just from reading the descriptions in the novel, but Ketron’s frame was massive. Absolutely massive.
Just look at the size of that holy sword strapped to his back. To swing something like that effortlessly, he’d need not just muscle but a naturally superior build.
If he decided to, he could probably kill Eddie with a flick of a finger. Probably. That very real possibility unintentionally made Eddie cautious.
But he couldn’t afford to wait. Who knew when Ketron might blacken? Besides, he was drawing attention—tall, draped in black, sitting right there in the middle of the parade crowds.
It seemed best to take him inside quickly and quietly. So Eddie steeled himself.
“Hey, Ket… Ahem.”
Even if he was sure this was Ketron, it wouldn’t make any sense for an innkeeper to suddenly call out the name of a forgotten hero. That would be suspicious as hell. So he swallowed the name.
“Hey, young man?”
No reaction. Ketron didn’t move a muscle. If it weren’t for the silent, sorrowful tears still running down his face, Eddie might have thought he’d turned to stone.
After a moment of hesitation, Eddie carefully reached out his hand. He tensed up, imagining the kind of scene you saw in fiction—where the moment you touched a character like this, they’d flip you over and snap your arm.
But even when Eddie timidly tapped his shoulder, Ketron didn’t react.
So Eddie grew bolder. Eventually, he was outright grabbing and shaking the man’s shoulder, but still—nothing. For a second, he wondered if Ketron might actually be dead.
“Hey.”
He called out again, almost out of habit.
Staring down at the unmoving man, Eddie suddenly noticed something.
Because of the black clothes, he hadn’t seen it at first—but his cloak was soaked through with blood. It wasn’t dripping onto the ground, but it was enough to leave Eddie’s palm red when he touched it.
“…Ah.”
Right. He remembered now.
Ketron had collapsed here, wounded and weeping from the pain of betrayal.
Wounded.
He still hadn’t fully healed from the fatal injuries he sustained in the battle with the Demon King. Unable to come to terms with the betrayal of his comrades, he’d forced himself to come to the Empire before fully recovering…
And now, he had seen it with his own eyes.
The betrayal of his old comrades. The traitor’s face, smiling brightly while basking in glory that once belonged to him.
And the cheering crowds who celebrated those traitors as heroes.
It was too pitiful to bear.
Eddie hardened his resolve. Screw it—he had nothing to lose. If this guy blackened here and now, Eddie’s peaceful retirement plan was toast.
“Hey!”
Eddie gripped the man’s shoulders with both hands and shook him wildly. So violently that even someone halfway to the afterlife would’ve had to open their eyes for a moment.
Sure enough, the figure—who had looked like a sobbing corpse—finally stirred. His eyelids twitched… then slowly lifted.
His gaze was sharp. But perhaps because it was brimming with tears, the sharpness didn’t land. Instead, he looked more sorrowful than anything else.
Without meaning to, Eddie stared into those eyes. Were they burning with vengeful fury, like the novel had described?
But no—he couldn’t tell. All he saw in those tear-filled eyes was confusion and pain, no trace of bloodthirst yet.
Good. It wasn’t too late.
“Um, yeah.”
Eddie cleared his throat. He’d woken Ketron up in a panic but hadn’t thought beyond that.
He should probably get him inside. But how to phrase it?
‘You look hurt. Want to come inside the inn?’
…Too suspicious.
‘Hey, this is an inn, and you’re scaring away my customers by sitting here like that?’
Too harsh, especially to someone already this broken.
‘Wanna come to my place for ramen?’
…Fire Chicken Noodles?
The longer he thought, the more awkward things got. And the colder Ketron’s expression became. The guy was already suffering—being unable to process his emotions properly and having some random stranger hovering around probably wasn’t helping.
Besides, he’d just witnessed the betrayal with his own eyes. Any patience he had must have burned away, leaving nothing but ash. Of course he wasn’t going to warm up to a random man calling out to him.
Eddie felt his own nervousness settle in the face of those wounded eyes.
Flowery speeches? That wouldn’t mean anything to someone like Ketron right now.
Understanding customer needs was fundamental in business. Eddie figured he’d just give the guy what he needed. Thankfully, it was something he could provide.
“This place? It’s my shop.”
Eddie pointed at the inn behind him.
Ketron looked confused for a second, then frowned slightly as his eyes followed the gesture and saw the inn sign. It was like he hadn’t even realized where he was sitting.
“If you need somewhere quiet… want to come inside?”
* * *
Eddie hadn’t actually expected his blunt invitation to work.
Well, not that it had really worked. It was more like he caught the guy off guard and dragged him inside before he could process what was happening.
Still, if Ketron had resisted at all, Eddie wouldn’t have stood a chance of moving that giant body. But after a moment’s hesitation, the man surprisingly let himself be led inside.
“…Master Eddie, what’s going on?”
Gerold, seeing Eddie walk in with a hulking, threatening stranger, tensed up and immediately questioned him.
Ketron’s and Gerold’s eyes met.
The surprising part was—despite the frozen, sharp intensity of Ketron’s gaze, Gerold didn’t flinch.
Just an ordinary inn employee, yet he didn’t back down at all.
But there was no time to dwell on that. Eddie quickly stepped between them.
“Ah, he collapsed in front of the inn! I brought him in to give him something to eat.”
“A vagrant? Since when did you start running a charity—”
“Anyway!”
Cutting Gerold off before he could ruin everything, Eddie forced a laugh.
“Could you whip up something for him?”
“…Fine.”
Gerold didn’t look pleased, but being the loyal man he was, he sighed and headed into the kitchen.
Eddie, still holding onto Ketron’s arm, guided him to the table closest to the door and sat him down.
Ketron followed passively, like a toy in a child’s hands. It wasn’t that he was touched by Eddie’s kindness—he just seemed completely listless.
And honestly, that was probably accurate.
The atmosphere at the table was painfully awkward. The smell of food wafted from the kitchen where Gerold was hard at work, but it would take time to finish.
Eddie glanced sideways at Ketron.
He had stopped crying, but tear stains still marked his cheeks. His eyes were red. His complexion was pale from injuries he tried to hide.
How did you end up trusting comrades like that?
No—how did you end up stuck in a story with a writer obsessed with betrayal twists?
Eddie clucked his tongue silently, feeling himself pity Ketron despite trying not to.
Back when he’d first read the novel’s ending, it had just irritated him. A bad ending, whatever.
But now, standing here in this world, seeing Ketron for real—his situation felt far more hopeless than Eddie had imagined.
Reading it as text and seeing it with your own eyes were two completely different things.
Only twenty years old. Forgotten by the world, betrayed, stripped of glory… Even the most righteous man would fall into darkness under those conditions.
And it looked like the kid had been through hell, physically and mentally. He was skinnier than he should be for his size.
“Sigh.”
Poor kid.
Eddie sighed again and, almost involuntarily, took a good long look at Ketron. Despite being stared at, Ketron didn’t react at all.
Long eyelashes still hung with tears, cheeks soaked, a youthful face betraying his age, a frame too lean for someone his size…
And then Eddie realized something.
He wasn’t just kind of thin. He was definitely underweight. Injured, pushed himself too hard to reach the Empire, probably hadn’t even eaten properly.
A kid—just a kid—who hadn’t had a decent meal in God knows how long.
Without thinking, Eddie scraped back his chair and got up. Even if Gerold was already cooking in the back, he figured he should give the kid something now.
[Please only take one per person! Promise!]
He opened the cooler set up at the inn’s entrance and pulled out a bottle of banana milk. Well, “cooler” was a stretch—it was just a bag filled with ice. Guests could grab one when they left.
The sign had been put up because too many people were sneakily grabbing two or three at a time.
Small business was no joke.
Eddie grabbed one of the thin plastic straws piled nearby, pierced the foil cap, and handed the bottle to the dazed boy.
“Kid.”
“…?”
Ketron blinked at the ridiculous nickname, then looked at the banana milk offered to him.
“You like sweet things?”
A ridiculous question on top of a ridiculous nickname. Ketron’s face twisted in sheer bewilderment.