The parade had ended, but the festival was only just beginning.
The square was littered with petals and paper scraps, but no one complained.
People scoured the ground with eager eyes in case any silver coins had been missed, and pubs and inns alike clinked with revelry deep into the night.
Even expensive side dishes were ordered without hesitation. Part of it was the festive mood, but having had silver coins rain down in broad daylight surely loosened everyone’s purse strings.
The whole city was bubbling with excitement, just like when the news of the Demon King’s fall had first broken.
Thanks to that, Eddie’s inn was packed to the brim with tourists looking to join the celebration.
In other words, more people than ever were shoveling down Fire Chicken Noodles.
At first, not many dared to order it. The dish sounded unfamiliar. But a few brave customers wanting a meal had gone, “Noodles? Like, a noodle dish? Gimme one!”—and that’s how it all started.
“Gyaaaah!”
“My lips are on fire!”
“Poison! This is poison, no doubt about it!”
“Milk!”
That fiery response the moment it touched their mouths must have sparked curiosity, because before long, everyone was lining up to try it, and Fire Chicken Noodles began selling like wildfire. Milk was practically sold as part of the set.
For the first time since its founding, Eddie’s inn had a queue of people doing a little dance in front of the bathroom. Eventually, when some guests couldn’t hold it in and ran off to use the facilities of other buildings, Eddie watched them with a wide, satisfied smile.
“Good, good.”
It was a devilishly refined smile.
Business was all about timing. Now that he had successfully grabbed their attention with something spicy, Eddie figured it was time to start pulling out the next product. He looked fondly at the first-floor tavern, jam-packed with customers.
Before the crowd had come in, Eddie had already prepared a room for Ketron on the second floor of the inn.
Right next to Eddie’s own room.
It was a privilege even Gerold hadn’t been afforded, and Gerold made no attempt to hide his bewilderment and disbelief.
“What’s with that vagabond that you’re going this far for him, Eddie?”
He looked like someone who’d just seen a random rolling stone knock out a firmly lodged one. Technically, Gerold wasn’t the firmly lodged one, nor had he been knocked out, but the vibe was close enough.
Eddie couldn’t exactly explain. How could he say, “This is actually the world of a novel, and that kid you’re calling a beggar is the real protagonist—the betrayed, forgotten Hero”?
“He’s just a kid. I feel bad for him.”
In truth, they weren’t that far apart in age, but Eddie gave a weak excuse. To his eyes, Ketron really did look like a baby.
He had died at twenty-eight. From that perspective, twenty was basically a toddler. Soft and baby-faced.
And now that kid had been through so much and stood wounded before him—how could anyone not feel pity?
Besides, there were hardly any people left who even remembered the awful things Ketron had endured.
“He’s hurt. I figured I’d take care of him until he recovers.”
“……”
Gerold looked conflicted but said nothing more. He just let out a long, deep sigh that poked at Eddie’s thin conscience. It was the kind of look you’d give a younger sibling who’d dragged a stray dog home from the streets.
“Will those wounds even heal? He refuses treatment.”
“Mm.”
Eddie had failed to care for Ketron’s injuries. Not because he lacked the skill, but because Ketron wouldn’t let him even look at the wounds.
Even though the medicine was imported from the East, Ketron rejected any attempt at contact like a shy cat avoiding strangers.
Well, it wasn’t all that surprising. Eddie didn’t take it personally. A guy who’d been betrayed by his closest comrades—if he didn’t distrust strangers, that would be strange.
As far as Eddie was concerned, the fact that Ketron hadn’t gone dark and was staying inside the inn was already a win.
The novel never described what happened after Ketron “turned,” but from the ominous hints and his uncompromising sense of justice, Eddie doubted it would’ve ended happily.
It felt like he’d just prevented the end of the world. Thinking so, Eddie winked at Gerold.
“I’ll handle it. Get him to eat something too.”
It was a rather pathetic sight, like a kid solemnly promising their parents they’d take care of the stray they just dragged home—but in the end, Gerold took a step back. With a deep sigh.
“Mmm.”
Eddie stood in front of Ketron’s door, looking down at the abandoned items.
The soup and banana milk he’d brought for Ketron had failed to draw any interest.
Since the moment Ketron had entered his second-floor room, he hadn’t taken a single step outside.
Eddie had left the medicines, the food, the banana milk by the door—but Ketron hadn’t so much as cracked the door open.
As if he were declaring himself cut off from the world.
Sometimes, what someone really needs is to be left alone.
But Ketron had already spent the past month alone in silence.
Now, Eddie figured, was a moment where someone needed to reach out.
He grabbed a cold banana milk and a straw from the fridge at the store entrance and headed back up to Ketron’s room.
Standing in front of the door, he glanced once more at the cold soup, the lukewarm milk, the untouched medicine—then decisively scooped up the rejected supplies, knocked on the door, and—
* * *
Ketron sat quietly beside the bed. The sacred sword Albatross was propped up next to him, lazily wrapped in thick cloth.
「Are you just going to sit here forever?」
Albatross's voice growled with fury. It was a voice only Ketron, its chosen wielder, could hear.
「A broken marionette has more backbone than you. Where’s the Ketron I once knew?」
“……”
「Then destroy the world. Say the word, and I’ll gladly lend you my power.」
The sacred sword, Albatross.
Normally, when one thinks of a sacred sword, it conjures images of divine righteousness and purity—but Albatross was different.
It had richer emotions than any human, a monstrous pride, and overwhelming arrogance.
If it did not acknowledge you, it wouldn’t even let you pick it up. And now it was angrier about Ketron’s situation than Ketron himself.
「That idiot who used to fondle me like a trophy actually stole your place. I can’t believe it.」
Even as Albatross condemned Arthur, Ketron didn’t respond. There was nothing to say. As Albatross put it, he was more lifeless than a broken puppet.
What should he do? What even was he?
There were no answers. If Albatross hadn’t remembered him and spoken up, he might’ve gone insane before even making it back to the Empire.
At the moment he thought he’d reached the summit, he had plummeted to the lowest depths. And now, there was nowhere left to climb.
He was alone in a void. There were no options.
He simply existed. As a thing that was no one and nothing.
A being remembered by no one.
…No. He would remember.
Arthur. And Boram, the one who cast the spell.
Should he take revenge? And if he did, what would that change? After venting all that rage, what would remain? Even if he proclaimed himself the Hero now, with the whole world forgetting him, would anyone believe it?
As Arthur’s former comrade, Ketron knew him well. He was a man who relied on quick thinking over brute force. A schemer, always sharp.
Arthur was surely planning and preparing everything he could, just in case the Hero he’d betrayed came back seeking vengeance.
You know me well, don’t you, Arthur.
“……”
Ketron shut his weary eyes.
He hadn’t come to this inn because he wanted to settle down. He’d simply chosen it because it was quiet, less crowded, less messy than anywhere else.
He had no intention of putting down roots. He was only here because he didn’t know where to go or what to do next.
「Haa…」
Albatross let out a long sigh and finally went silent. Though it was a spirit bound to a sword, it had seen countless humans over the years. It understood humans, but it could never fully grasp them.
Not even a sacred sword could comprehend what was going on inside Ketron’s head right now.
With everything finally quiet, Ketron closed his eyes.
Silence was nice. It suited his nature far better than the noise. He’d spent too long entangled with people, too long in chaos—but this silence, this was what he had truly wanted.
Ketron sank once more into the depths of the sea. Cold and dark and bottomless.
Knock knock.
But before he could fully submerge, the silence shattered.
“Hey, can I come in?”
It was phrased like a question, but the person outside clearly wasn’t waiting for permission. In fact, they seemed to know Ketron wouldn’t answer—and they were right. Ketron had no intention of replying, so there was no use feeling offended.
The door opened, and the innkeeper appeared.
That gleaming silver hair entered first, followed by a face perfectly suited to such brightness—Eddie gave him a wink as soon as their eyes met.
“What, you didn’t cry? Good job staying strong.”
At that, Ketron involuntarily made a face like he couldn’t believe what he’d just heard.
…Who the hell are you calling a crybaby?