Ways to Enjoy the Game 3
As always, the Lucky Scoundrel Tavern was packed. Pretty waitresses and good food meant any adventurer with coin to spare inevitably ended up here. And when those pretty waitresses threw in generous freebies for anyone with a good adventure story to tell, there was simply no reason to go anywhere else.
"Table for five?"
"Welcome! For five, there's a table free in the corner right now. Would a corner seat be all right?"
With worse luck we might have had to wait for a spot to open up, but fortune was on our side—a large corner table emptied out just as we arrived. A group of thoroughly drunk adventurers scattered in every direction; some headed out the door, while a few others went upstairs with a waitress in tow.
Shown to the empty seats, our party settled in. Everyone's cheeks were faintly flushed, as if the boisterous atmosphere around us had already started to rub off on them.
People talk about getting drunk on a mood, about it being contagious—and sitting in a bright, lively space full of smiles, soaking up the warm air, had everyone's mouths curling into easy grins. Compared to a dark, musty cave, this place was practically heaven.
"What can I get for you?"
"We're all drinking, right?"
We ordered hearty fare to fill our stomachs—roast chicken, steak, whatever each person preferred—along with a cold mug of beer apiece. Irene, apparently determined to join the celebration properly, ordered alcohol without a moment's hesitation.
Even with three women at the table, the waitress who'd taken our order seemed to take a shine to me and Kayden. She sashayed off toward the kitchen with an exaggerated sway of her hips. Sorry to her, but nobody at our table was going to fall for that particular temptation.
As for me, the odds of spending the night with Grace were sky-high. And that brown-curly-haired young man was actually a silver-haired, blue-eyed beauty cross-dressing as a guy. That hip-swaying routine, which could have rivaled a Western adult film star, might have stirred the hearts of the adventurers at the next table—but it did nothing for ours.
"How about our leader gives a toast?"
"Come on, Grace!"
Of course, I couldn't deny it caught the eye. While I was briefly glancing that way, the rest of the party laughed and chattered among themselves. The place was so busy that the food seemed to have been prepared in advance—warm, ready dishes arrived almost immediately—and the moment they hit the table, Han Se-ah hoisted her beer mug high.
I supposed that was the difference with someone who had hundreds of thousands of subscribers. She'd pretended to duck out of Grace's suggestion, but the second she grabbed that mug there wasn't a shred of hesitation in her. She'd struggled to offer free drinks to random NPCs before, yet in front of her own party her tongue seemed to loosen right up.
"To our always-smooth adventures!"
"Ahaha! Hanna, you just sounded exactly like some middle-aged adventurer!"
"Hey! You're the one who told me to do it!"
Grace and Han Se-ah had clearly grown much closer since tagging along under the pretext of relationship advice. The two of them traded lighthearted jabs and dissolved into laughter, and Irene, finding the sight delightful, smiled softly as she gently took hold of her own beer mug.
If the viewers ever found out about this, they'd probably thrash the floor in every direction, wailing about why she hadn't turned the stream on.
Next time Han Se-ah went live, I'd casually bring up last night's celebration. She'd been sticking that camera on me after every workday lately, and a little petty revenge was only fair. If I couldn't mess with her myself, I'd just have to use the viewers.
"Anyway—cheers!"
Clink—!
The rough glass mugs knocked together with a crisp sound, immediately swallowed by the near-shouting chatter of the adventurers around us. In the time it took to raise our glasses for a single toast, I must have overheard half a dozen exaggerated adventure tales.
And when the stories floating up from behind my back were about me, it made my ears itch a little.
"I'm telling you, golems—they're money!"
"The twenty-first floor, right? What happened there?"
A thoroughly plastered adventurer at the table behind us cackled and raised his glass. He was already deep in his cups, his face as red as a well-ripened jujube. Beer foam clung thickly to his beard, and in the hand that wasn't holding his mug he brandished something vaguely familiar, boasting about his exploits to a waitress.
Namely: a steel golem's shoulder gear.
I'd only put in a buy order for rock golem mana stones, but what that man was holding was a steel golem byproduct. Since our party had made sure the golden golem would never appear again, it seemed people had somehow managed to hunt both rock and steel golems clean through.
"If you look real carefully—real carefully—at the cave walls on the twenty-first floor, there's this smooth little device, see."
"Oh my? There is?"
"There is! You know how that famous Upper-grade adventurer keeps sweeping the lower floors and turning up all kinds of stuff? Those giant wolves, the orc army, all that. Turns out the caves have hidden things like that too!"
He was right behind us and loud enough that every word carried to our table. Our party, who'd been laughing and drinking, quietly set to work on their meat and focused on the drunkard's war story.
Hearing your own party's name come out of another adventurer's mouth—that was the first real taste of reputation as an adventurer. It was a different feeling entirely from merchants or nobles seeking you out for private commissions.
"That's about Roland, isn't it?"
"What he's holding—is that steel golem wreckage? He must be a fairly skilled adventurer."
Our party kept their voices low, murmuring among themselves so the table behind wouldn't overhear. Even Kayden, who'd maintained a stiff poker face all the way through the toast, seemed to be struggling with her acting now—her mouth twitched at the corners.
Oblivious to the five new audience members eavesdropping behind him, the bearded adventurer pressed on, spittle flying. He was practically shouting over the tavern noise, and when his throat went dry he half-drank, half-spilled a gulp of beer before launching back in.
"Anyway, you pour mana into that device and the cave goes all weird, and then this huge golem comes out. A massive golem that doesn't even flinch no matter how many times you hack at it, stomping right toward you—oooh—"
But his story never made it to the end. He'd clearly had far too much to drink; his head lolled forward and he started making miserable little noises.
The waitress, looking disappointed, glanced around, then helped the man up and led him toward the second floor. She must have been that curious about the golem story—planning to pin him down in person, maybe. A well-heeled sucker flush with gold coins to fleece, plus an adventure tale she wanted to hear: for a waitress, it was hardly a losing deal.
"Th-the waitress is taking that gentleman upstairs?"
"Well. It's that kind of establishment."
Irene's face went scarlet. No matter how innocent she was, it was no secret that the waitresses here also sold their company—she knew perfectly well what was about to happen.
With one adventurer vanishing and leaving a table full of half-eaten food behind, our party's drinking conversation naturally turned to the man himself. Not about how pathetic he'd looked drunk, or how thoroughly the waitress was about to clean him out—but about the commission I'd posted.
"Come to think of it, nothing's come out about the golem mana stones yet, has it?"
"I heard that after I put the request in at the guild, the Magic Towers bought up a few as well. Research has only just started, so they'll figure something out eventually."
Meaningless chatter poured out in every direction. Already drunk on the atmosphere, and with one drink, then two, going down, it was only natural that the party members unused to alcohol got tipsy fast.
I had to keep propping up Kayden, who kept trying to plant her face on the table, and make Irene—who was smiling blankly and muttering something that sounded like a Goddess scripture over and over—drink some water. It was chaos. The silver lining was that Grace and Han Se-ah were relatively less far gone than the other two.
"…Kayden doesn't know the way to the inn, so we'll get a room upstairs for her. Irene, we can take back to the Temple."
"I'll do it! I'll take Irene home!"
She'd once told me the hangover debuff made your vision sway—and it seemed the tipsy, fuzzy feeling had been implemented just as thoroughly. Before anyone could stop her, Han Se-ah staggered slightly to her feet, propped Irene up, and headed for the Temple.
Well. She was clearly angling to leave Grace and me alone together. At this point, I was starting to feel a little stubborn myself.
I called over a waitress, dumped Kayden more or less into an empty second-floor room, and stepped outside. We'd come in under the sunset; now a high moon hung overhead, and the cold wind bit as Grace quietly slipped her arm through mine.
I was pleasantly buzzed myself, and it had been a long time since I'd held a woman—camera or no camera, I didn't feel like caring. I matched my pace to hers and walked. Hell, if the Player wanted to peek, what was I supposed to do about it?
"Roland, where should we go?"
"…My room."
"…Together?"
Savoring the warmth against my arm, I walked the night streets with her. Maybe it was a gacha character buff, but for all the drinking we'd done at the table, Grace's body carried none of the smell of meat or alcohol.
Only a soft, sweet fragrance tickling the tip of my nose.
The next day, after greeting the morning with Grace and heading to the guild, Han Se-ah was already there—watching the two of us walk in together, a smile spread wide across her face.
So she saw it after all. Ruthless little witch.