Chapter 83
Chapter 83
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Translator: crow
Chapter Title: EP. 23: The Knight Holds a Private Meeting (1)
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"Damn it, no seats again today? Hey, Matt! Make some room!"
"If you want a seat, go fetch your own chair and table. Why are you bitching when I'm busy!"
"What kind of attitude is that toward a customer!"
"A bum like you ain't my customer, so get lost!"
"You little...!"
A man who looked like a customer and the shop owner were quarreling, but no one paid them any mind.
Such scenes were everyday occurrences.
Some even treated the bickering as entertainment.
Public House.
A popular spot that served as a tavern and inn for commoners.
Most people just called it a "pub" for short.
It was always packed, noisy as could be. Even late into the night, drunks poured in, leading to constant shouting and fights, but fortunately, serious incidents were rare.
And for good reason.
"Hey, fight all you want, just don't let the guild get involved. That'll only hurt you."
"......"
Places like pubs were usually branches of guilds.
So, quarrels typically ended quietly without escalating.
"Tch, fine. I'll let it slide. Just give me some of that godawful food."
"...This guy's got a mouth that invites fists."
The food might not be great, but it was cheap and filling. Booze and coffee were affordable too, so picking a fight with the pub owner was a bad idea.
A certain carpenter tossed some coins as an apology, and the crowd, facing the abruptly ended spectacle, downed their flat cheap lager with a deflated air.
Amid the rowdy chaos, two men shared drinks in the pub's third-floor lounge—a cozy spot for those willing to pay.
Well, more precisely...
"Where do you think you're going with that drink?"
"B-but I'm an adult too?"
"Sure you are. But academy students are banned from alcohol and revelry until graduation. You think you can break the rules right in front of an instructor? Got some guts."
"...That's too harsh."
The man ordered a drink for himself alone, leaving the timid boy to pout over his orange juice.
Having booze right there but stuck with juice—what could be more miserable—
"—Huh? This is good?"
His pout didn't last. The orange juice was refreshingly crisp and cool.
Better than expected, in other words.
Not just a cheap dive, then?
Lee Han smirked at the boy's surprised face.
"One reason this pub's great is they serve decent stuff if you pay. Those oranges are sourced from the south—pretty premium. No booze for you, but it'll ease the disappointment."
"Awesome."
"The kingdom's food culture is top-notch. Makes the booze especially good. Try it after graduation."
"...Gulp."
"Kid's a drinker at heart."
Doesn't look the type, but he knows his booze.
Makes sense—people who bottle up their feelings often drown stress in drink.
'Should've let him have one glass?'
...Nah. This is right.
Besides, the kid's got a position to consider.
Better not do anything that could be held against him.
Lee Han steeled his softening resolve and downed his ale.
Rich barley aroma and depth.
Top-quality grain, unwatered—perfectly flavorful.
Five times better than the beer from his past life.
'Kingdom nails beer, at least.'
Oak-aged ale was excellent, as expected.
"Lager's fine, but ale suits me better."
Less crisp than lager, but with subtle fruit notes—Lee Han preferred it.
Whichever, it was worth the price.
"Aren't you overdoing it? Third-floor lounge costs a lot, and the menu's pricey too..."
"Worth every copper. Quiet, and the food's great."
Unlike the first and second floors, the third was pricier—but justified.
Downstairs, it'd be lukewarm watered-down swill that ruined your palate.
Better to pay for quality.
"Two things I don't skimp on: gear and grub. Eat up hearty. My treat today."
"...Thanks. I'll dig in."
"Thank me? I'm the one who owes you."
"Haha..."
Derek laughed awkwardly, feeling out of place with Lee Han's kindness.
He knew it was gratitude for the potion, so refusing felt wrong.
Though he'd rather head home and crash.
'Still, not bad.'
Food, atmosphere—decent.
Rare breather from his busy life.
"Order whatever. Wallet's fat today."
"...Uh, a couple more then."
"Go for it."
A warm gaze washed over him.
The kind where watching someone eat fills your own belly.
Derek felt the depth of Lee Han's gratitude through that honeyed look.
The potion meant that much?
'I, I put thought into it.'
As the maker, satisfying yet embarrassing.
He'd just done his best to repay a debt, but—
"—Haha."
Hiccup...!!
Derek shuddered with sudden chill.
'W-what?'
Locking eyes with that satisfied smile sent an indescribable shiver down his spine.
Thief skill, Crisis Detection, screamed warnings...!
Like staring into a predator's eyes.
Derek recalled feeling this somewhere before.
'W-where have I felt this?'
Not just grateful hosting—something ulterior.
A nagging suspicion dredged up buried memories.
'...Ah.'
It hit him.
When he'd felt this before.
Back in his past life, around when he made private first class...
'When the platoon sergeant took me to a rib joint, asking if I wanted to try squad leader duty...!?'
Sweat...!
Derek broke into cold sweat.
...Felt like he'd walked into the tiger's den willingly.
'G-good thing I can't drink.'
Relief—he'd dodged being swallowed whole.
And the instructor, scheming to maybe use him as an assistant...
'This timid one's eyes darting—plotting escape? Tch, he caught on.'
...Anyway.
'Smart kids are such a pain.'
The instructor was disappointed!
...Shady intentions aside(?), the food was delicious anyway.
Gambas, premium octopus dishes, roast beef—quality meals and sides unfit for a mere pub.
But Lee Han stopped at two ales, no more.
Ask why a guy who looked like he could drain an oak barrel limited himself:
"Booze is for light enjoyment. No drinking buddy anyway—two's plenty."
"...Hm."
Reasonable answer.
The boy, steeped in crate-chugging culture, made a strange face.
...Seeing his unexpectedly wholesome side made "fellow countryman" vibes fade.
'H-he's not really from the martial world, right?'
Too hybrid otherwise, Derek swallowed a silly thought.
"Why eat like that? Chow down hearty."
"...Y-yes."
Bossing him to eat like this—felt like fellow countryman...
'...No, overthinking.'
Derek admitted he was hypersensitive to every action.
Someone he might've just met... in a similar "position."
Excited, assigning meaning to trifles.
A sickness.
Called Overreach.
'Don't read into it now.'
Even if countryman, positions unchanged.
Unless he outs himself blatantly—which he hadn't.
...Derek lacked courage to confess first anyway.
Hated his personality then.
'Why am I so dense?'
Derek pouted.
"...Partying solo hard, huh."
"!?!!"
"Brooding, frowning, sudden pout... Someone'd suspect schizophrenia."
"N-no, not that!"
"It is. Your state screams early schizo. Dangerous? Speak up—I'll smack your head straight."
"...Won't your head explode instead...?"
"I control my strength. Just fix the brain."
"......Even if schizo, I'll hit the temple, thanks."
Derek meant it.
Temple over folk remedies any day.
"Fine if okay. But venting to others helps headaches sometimes. Consult me or your girlfriend."
"L-Lady Karin and I aren't like that!"
"...Didn't name Purple Hair specifically?"
"!!?"
"Eh, go easy on salting singles. My fist might punish, not heal."
"R-really not......"
Derek trailed off honestly, but Lee Han didn't buy it—smirk tugging his lips.
Weak spot snagged, Derek pouted again.
Then.
"—But that was sincere. Good to have someone to vent to. Don't suffer alone."
"......"
The man's earnest advice.
Not just "older wisdom"—from shared life experience...
Derek pondered.
That raw resonance hit deep.
Truly...
'What was his old life?'
Derek blinked, oddly curious about another's past.
Meanwhile, oblivious to Derek's curiosity about his past, Lee Han sipped water, eyes narrowing.
'Tch, can't come here anymore.'
Lee Han shook his head at the packed presences below.
Some might say busy pub's normal, or he hates crowds—but no.
'Rat-infested.'
Half the noisy crowd downstairs felt off.
From fake fights with the owner to overly loud talkers—plenty suspicious.
All focused on him, ears perked.
Daytalks birds hear, nighttalks rats do?
Rats in action.
'Annoying.'
Wanted serious talk with the kid today.
Booze loosened, planned to dive into "worldview," "past life," or "possession."
Hence the lounge splurge...
'Can't chat anywhere for a while.'
Not safe now—even home.
Informants might have mysteries; bird or cat ears borrowed.
'Attention's scary.'
His rep spiked yesterday, drawing interest.
Hence these probes.
And who? Obvious.
'Intel Guild.'
Maybe even Guild Union.
Tap tap.
Lee Han drummed the table, pondering the pests.
'...Beat 'em?'
Needed field test anyway.
Check changed physique, maybe shank some.
Lee Han focused on the hand axe in his coat.
Heightened senses, ready to draw.
As his aura boiled...
"...Huh?"
—An unexpected arrival made him blink.
Senses sharp as drug dogs picking scents kilometers off—not wrong.
Stunned at the ill-fitting figure entering the pub, mouth agape.
"...Bear Girl?"
Pupils quaked.
Levi Polt.
Feeling the top student's presence, Lee Han rarely panicked.