Chapter 69
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 69
Chapter Title: The Vanished Good Bond
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Had a short twenty-minute chat with Hector.
Even as he talked with me, Hector showed his competitive spirit, but he couldn't hide his exhaustion either.
It was only natural.
I'd zapped his whole body with lightning, which must've been like second-degree burns everywhere.
No matter how much the priests swarmed him with healing, the pain he'd felt wouldn't just vanish, and the rapid healing process came with intense itching.
Severe scratch marks on his arms and legs suggested he hadn't been able to hold out against it.
He'd looked fine while talking to me, so the itching must've subsided by then.
Still, the whole ordeal would've left him utterly drained.
No point in dragging out the conversation, so I excused myself and left.
Maybe because it was a bond forged by a 'good connection'...
Neither Hector nor his two attendants seemed hostile toward me.
The thing I'd been worried about hadn't happened.
I let out a sigh of relief as I closed the door behind me, and Shan and Marcel scanned me over, realizing nothing had gone wrong inside—their tense expressions easing up.
It was touching that they cared, but it felt a bit awkward getting this much attention, so I scratched my cheek.
"All done? Let's go. Dinner's on you, right?"
"Y-Yeah."
Marcel lightened the mood with his casual tone while smoothly volunteering me for dinner, and this time, I nodded without complaint.
I knew Marcel wasn't saying that because he was hungry or trying to mooch off me.
He just wanted to settle the score between us—no debts outstanding.
If he really wanted to fleece me, he wouldn't have settled for something as minor as a meal.
They both knew I had money.
They knew I could pay a fair price if they asked.
But they hadn't.
So this was just for appearances. My turn to show some magnanimity.
"The most expensive restaurant in the capital."
I put my hands on my hips and puffed out my chest.
More expensive than hiring these two.
Ridiculously pricey, but with the prize money from the win, it was doable.
A place reserved for the elite, but silver-rank adventurers qualified.
"Can I order drinks freely?"
"No way."
The course with pairing wine was calculable.
But unlimited booze? Bankruptcy for sure.
My body shivered at the thought, even with a handful of gold coins—it wouldn't be enough—and I scowled as Marcel laughed it off as a joke and slapped my back.
I knew it was playful, but it hurt.
Definitely gonna bruise.
"Anyway, let's go. The place you're talking about is the one I think it is, right?"
"What else could be the most expensive restaurant in the capital?"
Lots of pricey spots, but the absolute 'most' expensive? Only one.
"Who's the strongest?" is too vague, but this had clear numbers.
We headed to the inner city, and the restaurant stood out even from afar.
The three-story stone building looked like a mini castle—too grand for just a restaurant, its opulence naturally intimidating.
"Heard the rumors, seen it from a distance plenty, but didn't realize it'd be this huge and flashy."
And for a restaurant, it had private guards numbering nearly eight.
Owning private soldiers in the capital was a massive privilege.
And a mere restaurant enjoyed it.
"They get nobles and royals all the time, so that level of privilege makes sense. Stop staring."
I'd been gawking at the guards when Shan nudged my shoulder, and only then could I nod and accept it.
To people who valued their lives above all, security was priceless.
So the capital granted that privilege not for the restaurant, but to let it hire guards for protection.
Viewing it that way, they were big and muscular, sure.
But their aura didn't seem that intimidating.
Reminded me of that greatsword guy from the tournament.
That eased my tension.
First, I adjusted my sunglasses so as not to offend anyone, then squeezed between Shan and Marcel to enter.
The usher checked their silver badges, glanced at me briefly.
Copper badge.
Normally no entry, but seeing the silver-ranks put a hand on my shoulder, he realized it wasn't just hierarchy—we were close.
Stepped aside without a word, bowing politely.
Felt like VIP treatment, giving me full-body hives.
Guess I was oddly unadapted to courtesy.
Easier dealing with rude folks.
"Good call buying new clothes if you planned this."
"Huh? Oh, dress code?"
"That too. But more your usual getup."
"...It's just comfy. Why rag on my clothes all of a sudden?"
Everything else fine, but 'getup'? Really?
Not my purchase—the saint gave it—but comfy, so I liked it.
A bit revealing, but the comfort outweighed it.
"You've never wandered at night or dawn, right?"
"Nope."
In a world with crap security—even the capital's decent—why roam late for trouble?
"Wander at night in your usual outfit, and guys'll offer cash to go somewhere."
"That's gross for a line to a 13-year-old."
"You've seen all kinds of ugly. No need to play coy."
"Still feels bad."
Grumbling, we entered—the interior dazzling.
The temple clinic had clean, orderly elegance; this was blatant luxury.
Gold leaf everywhere on pillars, ceiling murals overwhelming the eyes.
Tables absurdly spacious, stair railings solid silver.
Famous paintings on walls, fine sculptures dotted around.
Thought the priciest place meant tastiest food.
This? Felt like it'd give indigestion.
But backing out now? Pride wouldn't allow it. We followed to a cozy corner on the first floor.
Second floor for nobles, third for royals, apparently.
"Appetizer, main, dessert—three-course okay?"
"Fine."
"...Prices here are brutal. You sure?"
"No choice. We're already in."
Even brazen Marcel worried at the menu—prices gave me chills.
Shortest course: 50 silver per head.
Five million won for the basic? Insane.
But considering what they did, I could swing it. Deep breath, shaky hands opened my pouch.
Included pairing wine, and first floor paid upfront unlike upper levels—so I pulled gold coins.
"...Here."
Two golds; got silver change.
The food and wine...
No clue.
Not bad tasting.
Tasty, even.
But the presentation...
Main steak was the worst—why gold leaf on steak?
I passed the wine to Shan and Marcel (not big on booze) and even just eating, kept thinking that cheap joint with Marcel had way better value.
Post-steak dessert: ice cream with low-grade diamonds embedded.
Uncomfortable to eat, total mystery why.
Me, Marcel.
And Shan—we exchanged glances and nodded.
Same thought, probably.
Never coming back.
All flash, no substance.
Hated tipping but shelled out one silver and left—as sunset approached.
"Tomorrow's the same-rank adventurer tournament, right?"
"Preliminaries."
"Win those, and you're silver-rank."
I turned to Marcel rubbing his bloated upper belly.
Noticing my gaze, he casually dropped his hand, pretending fine.
"Do your best. My disciple won... my master Marcel won't flop in prelims, right?"
"...Obviously!"
"What's with the hesitant answer?"
"Last score was dismal. But I'll try."
"Feel like dying? Surrender fast."
"Don't wanna die either. If it's too much, I'll yield without forcing it."
He chuckled, ruffling my hair—head wobbling.
Swatted his hand; he pinched my cheek.
Bad at restraint?
Or no intention?
Hurt bad, I scowled hard—Shan wordlessly smacked his hand away.
Cheek freed, I darted behind Shan; Marcel smacked his lips regretfully.
"Hurt?"
"Yeah."
"Sorry."
"Forgiven."
Peeked from behind Shan for a handshake; he scratched his head, took it.
"Win tomorrow."
"Beat who I can, quick surrender to the rest."
"Sounds good."
Not real combat—just a tournament. No need for silver-rank life-or-death.
We made promises we could keep, then parted.
The next day.
That's when it hit me.
The 'good connection' was gone.