Moonlight Debt and the Spoon's Strike
I pulled the rough hemp cloth back up over my face a bit, finished off the last of the soup, and reached for the bread. It was a flat, round multigrain loaf, still steaming faintly with warmth radiating from it, the crust just a touch crisp. Watching Toti tear her bread in half with both hands and dip it into her soup, I tried to mimic her exactly. I gripped the edges with both hands and applied force as gently as possible.
Crack.
The sound was off. Instead of the bread tearing, the oak table beneath it splintered. The subtle pressure in my bread-holding grip had transferred straight down through my forearm into the table, blasting off a rounded chunk from my side's corner. A drop of broth from the empty bowl's bottom plopped into the gap. Three or four wooden shards rolled across the floor.
Ah.
My hand froze. The bread was intact in my grasp, but the front of the table was hideously gouged out in a half-moon shape. The dining hall went dead silent.
"......Sorry."
Who knew how many times I'd said that today. I stayed rigid in my bread-holding pose. Spooning had worked fine, but tearing bread? Failure. My mistake— I hadn't accounted for the downward force vector. When ripping something with both hands, you unconsciously brace downward, and this brute dragon forearm wouldn't tolerate it.
The innkeeper woman's gaze locked onto the shattered table. Her knuckles were white around the rag.
"This is......"
"I'll pay for—"
"I'll cover it!"
Toti shot to her feet, cutting me off. She rummaged in her backpack and slapped a bundle of dried herbs onto the counter. Thin purple leaves with silver veins. Whatever it was, the woman's changing expression suggested it was pricey.
Moonlight Herb
"Moonlight Herb. That more than covers the table, right?"
The woman inspected the stems, her furrowed brow easing slightly as she grudgingly nodded. Toti sat back down and shot me a glance.
"Young master, you've got some serious strength. Or was the table just rotten?"
"......Probably the latter."
"Nah, that corner flew off clean. It's fine. I'll pay you back later for what I covered."
Her casual "later" hit heavy. Not something to brush off lightly.
"Isn't Moonlight Herb expensive?"
"It is. Took me two days to forage. So now you owe me, Young Master Bar?"
She grinned, but her fingers tapping her herb pouch at her waist weren't purely playful.
Great. More debt.
We'd known each other less than two hours, and already: hemp cloth disguise, meal costs, table damage. I had zero coin to my name. A calamity dragon might hoard gold in its cave, but original Barkaion had no such refined hobbies.
"......Got it. I'll pay you back."
"Good. Don't forget."
Only then did Toti seem satisfied. She snatched the bread from my hand, tore off half, and slid the pieces toward me.
"Here, I'll tear it for you. At this rate, the inn won't survive your hands."
Neatly portioned bites, edges cleanly ripped. Grateful for the consideration, but it felt oddly humiliating. A calamity black dragon indebted to a herbalist over a single loaf.
No choice, though. I slipped a piece under the hemp cloth into my mouth. The chewy texture carried a nutty grain savoriness.
"You mentioned magic beasts at the next table earlier."
Toti dipped her bread in soup and continued. "Worst is east of the Black Thunder Mountains foothills, in the Green Rot Forest. Wolf-types coming down in packs. They usually stick above a thousand meters elevation, but now they're right by the village fences."
I kept chewing steadily, feigning total disinterest.
"So it's dangerous?"
"Very. But the weird part? It's not just wolves. Stone-armored lizards, scream bats, even root worms. Every kind pouring down from the mountains. Not just food shortages."
Not shortages— something unbearable had awakened at the peak. Knowing the answer, I swallowed quietly.
"The imperial guards patrol, though."
"They do. But from Rune Village, their outpost is a day's ride south. Patrols every ten days, but beasts come daily. Doesn't add up."
I picked up another piece of bread nonchalantly, but my mind raced. Outpost a day south. Patrols every ten days. Influx from east Green Rot Forest. North and east of Rune Village: effectively undefended.
Two implications for me. One: low chance of military nets on return to Black Thunder Mountains. Two: if my-caused beast migration continued, empire would investigate— straight to my summit cave.
Need countermeasures, fast.
Toti misread my silence. "Scared? Village inside is safe. Fences treated with exorcism herbs. Low-grade beasts can't touch it."
"Not scared."
"Can't tell with that cloth. Take it off?"
"......Eyes are sensitive."
She tilted her head but didn't press. Instead, she smoothly shifted to rattling off Green Rot Forest terrain: cliffs, springs, slopes for half-day treks to mid-mountain. A herbalist's knowledge was precise— paths from foot travel, details missing from maps. I memorized every word, chewing slowly.
The inn door slammed open. Hinges squeaked against the wall; three pairs of heavy boot thuds echoed on the wooden floor.
Three men. Leather armor, waists hung with thick ropes and iron hooks, folded steel nets strapped to backs. Gear for capturing magic beasts— hunters or poachers.
The leader swept the room, zeroed in on Toti, and approached. Her face hardened, cheer vanishing; her fingers trembled faintly on her soup bowl's rim.
"Toti."
He loomed by the table. Short hair, long scar along his jaw. Low, deliberate voice, no trace of leisure.
"Green Rot Forest east route. Guide us."
"No."
Instant refusal. "Told you last time. Don't like your methods."
"Methods aside, we paid."
"Not about money—"
Meanwhile, the other two casually flanked her. Blocking chair-to-wall escape— deliberate positioning. Diners ducked heads or averted eyes. Routine, or didn't want trouble.
"This one's urgent. High-grade beast sighted at Black Thunder foothills. No one else knows the terrain like you."
"I said no."
"Toti."
The leader snatched her arm, yanking her up roughly. Chair scraped back with a screech.
"Double pay, so just—"
Before he finished, the smell hit. Sour, acrid chemical stench from his leather armor— the kind to excite or lure magic beasts. Human nose might call it foul stink, but my dragon senses broke it down molecularly: beast nervous system stimulant.
Excitement agents. Capture gear. Forcing a herbalist guide amid beast surge.
I kept chewing. Under the hemp, I fixed on the leader's nape. Emotions rippled; I crushed them instantly.
No Dragon Fear leak. One emotional spike here, everyone but Toti knocks out.
His nape centered in view. Under cloth shadow, my vertical golden slits narrowed, drilling his neck. Fingers on knee twitched faintly.
Intervene?
One side: survival rules. Other: Toti's gritted-teeth face in his grip. Obvious size mismatch.
She gave me the cloth. Tore my bread. Spent two days' herbs for my table.
Ah, fuck it.
I picked up the spoon. That cheap wooden one from soup. Force dialed to splinter-proof limit. Nothing to me.
I tapped the spoon handle on his hand's back. Dull thunk; his grip sprang off Toti's arm. Struck knuckles blazed red; he recoiled, clutching it.
All three stares snapped to me. Tall guy in hemp hood, at shattered-corner table, spoon raised. Ridiculous, I knew.
"What the hell's this guy?"
Knuckle-clutcher turned, annoyance over surprise.
I set the spoon down gently— wood-safe.
"I'm eating."
Low, flat tone. No emotion. Dry fact.
"Talk after I'm done."
Polite speech: deliberate. To counter dragon instincts creeping my throat, lean on human social norms.
His eyes scanned under the cloth. Shadow hid mine. But his pupils quivered faintly. Beast instinct warning: don't touch.
Gaze traced my shoulders, hand size, exposed forearm. Three seconds. He stepped back half a pace.
"......New face."
"Arrived today."
That was it. Leader jaw-nodded; flankers slipped away. He glared at Toti once more.
"Be back."
They turned and left without lingering. Squeaking door, fading boots. Slam. Noise resumed: coughs, fork clinks.
Only then did I exhale slowly. Barely stirring air, lungs emptying fractionally. Emotions calm. No leak.
Good.
Toti slumped, rubbing her arm, glaring at the door. "Those bastards are magic beast poachers. Catch 'em in mountains, sell to arenas or noble hunts. Always bugging me for guides."
"Dangerous work?"
"Yeah. Spread lure agents, charge when beasts rush, net 'em. Guide next to bait's most at risk."
Lure agents. That smell. Spread stimulants to draw them— guide's basically extra bait.
"......So you refused."
"Obviously. Not an idiot."
She huffed, then blinked at me. "But Bar, you hit him with a spoon just now?"
"Just tapped."
"That tap flung his hand off. Guy's got solid grip strength."
"......Well, I break tables."
"Oh."
Toti nodded solemnly. "Right. Table-smasher young master."
Logic dubious, but arguing seemed tiring. I swallowed a bread chunk.
As if nothing happened, Toti leaned on the table's intact corner. "Anyway, thanks. Hey, young master— got a place to crash for a bit?"
"......Still deciding."
"Stay at the inn then. No money?"
"Nope."
"Another debt it is."
She flashed a bright, unhesitant grin. Debt list grew: cloth, meal, table, now lodging.
A calamity dragon buried in debt to a frontier herbalist felt more unreal than any original plot.
I gulped the last bread piece, peering from under the hemp at the wall calendar.
Imperial Calendar Year 497
Green Wind Month
One more task. Urgent survival priority: debt clearance.