Macarons, Mothers, and a Mischievous Reunion
I panted heavily as I stepped out of the blacksmith shop. If it hadn't been for her, I wouldn't have had to bolt out like this, but her weird comments left me no choice but to take drastic measures.
I set the culprit down on the ground and grabbed her cheeks with both hands, rubbing them wildly.
"No more weird talk like that outside! People will get the wrong idea!"
"Eeeeew, buh mawster wuvs ih wike dis."
It's all for me? I appreciated the sentiment, but that good intention almost landed me in jail! Good intentions with bad results—the classic scenario!
Her attitude of selling me out just to prove she did nothing wrong pissed me off, so I stretched her cheeks long.
"Ubeeee."
Her expression didn't change, but her flailing arms suggested the lesson was sinking in. Gotcha, you little punk! I pulled her cheeks like taffy—felt great.
This ought to be enough reflection. I yanked hard and let go, and a satisfying snap echoed out.
She seemed to feel it, clutching her cheeks with teary eyes.
Ugh. Can't go soft for this. Spoil the brat and she'll never learn!
With that firm resolve, I glared down at Asti. In response, she gazed up at me with glistening eyes.
"…If Master likes this, I'll endure it."
While saying stuff that makes me sound like trash!
"Hey, don't say it like that!"
"You looked happy when you pulled my cheeks…."
"When did I look happy?!"
Okay, her squishy cheeks were cute, and the goofy face was hilarious, but it wasn't happiness! Definitely not!
"…Oh ho."
"Wait, Mu Yeon? No, that's not it."
I desperately denied it as Mu Yeon made a knowing sound, but…
"…Mr. Tantun prefers giving over receiving…."
She was mumbling crap like that.
"Stop! That's not it!"
"Eek, eek!?"
Only after I yelled did Mu Yeon's face return to normal. That assassin maid. This was surely another attempt to bury me socially! No wonder she'd been extra proactive lately. And just like that, Asti's fault vanished completely.
Where the hell did she learn that advanced rhetoric?
Anyway, that wasn't the point. Her random nonsense snapped my train of thought.
The blacksmith, Simtol. I'd pegged him as the type to drone on like a bitter old-timer, but things worked out better than expected. He seemed kind-hearted when he was lenient with the kid, and it turned out true.
"Anyway, glad it worked out."
"Y-Yes! I was even planning to pester him daily for a couple days, but this is a relief."
…Pestering that old man? Mu Yeon must be mentally unhinged under that concept act. No way she'd come back to nag otherwise.
Whatever. Point is, custom weapon incoming—mission accomplished.
"Thanks, Mu Yeon. Now I can finally get a proper weapon."
"…But for your style, Mr. Tantun, wouldn't gauntlets or knuckles suit better than a sword…?"
"Out!"
"Eek!"
What a clueless take. Knights are efficiency with lances, romance with swords. Mentioning others means you're too niche or a heretic.
Telling me to go martial? I'd sooner ditch knighthood and join the Hunter in the wilds with Outer Gods.
She probably thought that from borrowing Bell's power against the Dragon Slayer, but Outer God power drains life force—literally shaves days off your lifespan. Bad for long fights, so I avoid it unless desperate. I wanna live long.
Whew. Time for the market for real.
Chatting derailed my sense of time.
"Gotta head to the market now. Some investigating to do."
"Oh? Well… I have plans soon, so can't go all the way."
"Too bad. Would've been nice together."
I replied to Mu Yeon with a subtle smile. Pure facade, of course. Better alone for Outer God intel. She knows some of my situation, but chatting risks spilling secrets. No good.
Maybe explain later if it makes sense, but now it'd just breed distrust. Plus, two knights grilling a shady info broker about Outer Gods? Sketchy.
"R-Really too bad?"
"…Yeah, sure."
Mu Yeon's face flushed deeper, starting and stopping words repeatedly. What?
She squeezed her eyes shut, shook her head wildly, then…
"A-Anyway, have a nice walk!!"
"B-Be careful!"
She bolted, steaming more than White Mask's train. What was that? Did I say something wrong? No clue. I'll ask next time.
Now I feel awkward for no reason.
#
After Mu Yeon left, I wandered nearby. Worried I'd have to trek back to the Hearth for map advice, but luckily, a bustling market was just a short walk from the smithy.
Unlike typical medieval markets, no stalls on poles or tables—merchants sat on the ground with baskets, staring down. Avoiding eye contact with snowfield giants mid-sale? And thicker clothes than customers, being farther from the Hearth.
Rondan's ironic vibe: grim yet lively.
They hawked goods earnestly, voices booming—startling if you zoned out.
Asti gawked around like me, everything novel. First time isekai'd here for me…
…Raised as a slave her whole life, so yeah, first market.
To not lose her, I took her hand. She looked up.
"Crowded. Hold tight so we don't get separated."
"Yes."
Such a sweet reply. Holding hands like parent-child, her face lit with subtle excitement. Good for her too—glad we came.
Sightseeing done; time for info broker. Asti eyed food with that morning's pet-me stare, tempting to buy everything, but no time. Market for intel only.
Valuable info hides in dusty library tomes or shady market alleys. Library too soon—time sink. Market first.
I turned that way, but Asti froze, nearly toppling me.
"Asti?"
Calling her, I saw—ah, slipped out. Her gaze locked somewhere, shifting to that look between me and an item.
What demands buying? A pretty pink macaron.
Hmm. Yeah. Prime age for sweets. That pleading stare? One's fine.
"Hello, how much for the macarons?"
"3 silver coins."
A rough-looking uncle held up three fingers. Seasoned vibe—no doubt tasty.
"What color?"
"…Hmm."
Asti scanned them. Serious but happy dilemma—couldn't pick fast. Kids treasure choice time.
She pointed soon enough.
"Ah."
White meringue, red cream. …Loaded symbolism, but probably just favorite colors. Whatever.
"Here."
"Thank you."
I took it and handed to Asti.
"Try it."
"…Yes."
She took it but hesitated. Too pretty to eat?
"Next market trip, one more. Eat up."
"…Really?"
Oof. Her un-Asti-like double-check stirred pity—what life?
"Yeah. Every day if you want."
"…Thank you, Master."
I grinned; she finally nibbled carefully. Chewing, eyes widened—adorable. Gotta bring her often.
"…Mother sometimes gave me sweets. Tasty."
Definitely kidnapped by slavers. Should've beaten them more.
"No, Mother trained me as a slave, then sold me."
"…Huh?"
Did I hear right? What psycho mom trains and sells her kid?
I seethed. Asti calmly bit more, swallowed slow.
"Mother was strong. Probably still is. Sending me had reasons… ugh."
First vent from her; I listened, but she winced in pain.
"You okay?"
"…Tongue cut on cookie part."
She stared, stuck out her tongue.
…Huh?
"W-What!"
"Here."
Mumbled, showed near root. Reddish, yeah.
"Got it—put it away!"
"Yes."
She resumed munching like nothing. Serene, but… felt like she stopped for more than the macaron.
#
Hunting intel aimlessly, but brokers were scarce. Hidden, sure, but this invisible? Overkill.
"Hey, looking for something?"
Loitering drew a vendor—obviously no clue from legit sellers.
Sigh. Thought at least one; none? Even creepy alleys risking 'organ show'—nada.
No time to waste. Check inns for resistance hideouts?
Heading out—
"What're you circling for? Need info? I can cut a deal."
A voice whispered in my ear; I froze.
Because it was what I sought? Partly, yeah.
But more—that familiar ring.
I turned slowly toward it. There:
Signature maroon hair, sharp eyes—now brimming mischief.
And an arm that shouldn't exist, waving casually with her trademark grin.
"Hehe, long time no see."
Agartha stood there, more poised than before.