Something Is Terribly Wrong
Something was wrong.
That was the conclusion Juhan had reached.
It wasn't a hasty judgment. It was a conviction born of standing on the street for quite some time, carefully observing his surroundings. He just couldn't figure out the exact cause.
"Surely..."
This was definitely the world of the novel he had read.
As Juhan muttered this and looked around, he clutched a few unfamiliar coins in his hand.
Clink.
They were the coins the locals used to buy and sell goods. Juhan had already replicated a few of them.
The process was simple enough. All he had to do was slip his hand into his pocket dimension, manifest them, and pull them out naturally.
Yet, as Juhan stared down at the currency, his mind remained clouded with doubt.
Leopold IV?
It was the name of the king engraved on the metal: Leopold IV. This was the source of his confusion.
Was there ever a king with that name?
No matter how hard he racked his brain, he couldn't recall a single monarch by that name in the novel.
As far as his knowledge went, there was no such king, nor any kingdom or empire ruled by anyone similar.
It was a name he had never seen in his life. It was as if a new king had ascended the throne long after the novel's original timeline had concluded.
Sigh...
Juhan let out a soft sigh.
Standing around here and brooding wasn't going to solve anything. He needed to get moving; anywhere would do.
So, one copper coin buys a loaf of bread, and ten coppers make a silver coin.
While replicating the coins, Juhan had managed to grasp their rough value.
Naturally, his first destination was a place that made perfect sense.
Chime. Chime.
Juhan pushed open the door of a shop and stepped inside.
"Welcome!"
It was a clothing boutique. Juhan's absolute priority was doing something about his current attire.
I've been drawing way too much attention.
It was true. Even though he was actively suppressing his presence to the absolute limit of what felt natural, he was still garnering quite a few stares.
The culprit, of course, was the outfit he was wearing.
Naturally, he had shooed away the pigeon on his head a long time ago.
It wouldn't be hard to just replicate and manifest what the locals are wearing, but...
Replicating the clothes of the people around him was easy. The problem was that doing so required him to slip back into his pocket dimension.
He didn't want to risk doing that in public, which was his first reason. His second reason was a genuine curiosity to see the variety of fashion available here.
As Juhan stepped into the shop, the first thing he encountered was a shop assistant staring at him with her mouth slightly agape.
"Oh..."
She was clearly taken aback by his attire.
Sigh, I need to change as fast as possible.
Fortunately, she didn't seem to be mocking or looking down on him. It was a look of pure, unadulterated shock at his bizarre fashion.
"C-Clothes! What kind of clothes are you looking for today?"
She quickly recovered her composure and flashed a professional customer-service smile. She was clearly a seasoned veteran.
"Or feel free to browse around, and let me know if anything catches your eye!"
Perhaps because Juhan didn't give an immediate answer, the assistant politely stepped back, giving him space to browse at his leisure.
Juhan gave her a polite nod.
After acknowledging her, Juhan began to examine the garments on display nearby.
Rustle. Rustle.
They really are quite different.
His immediate impression upon inspecting the clothes was that they were vastly different from what he knew. Trends come and go, but this felt like an entirely different era.
I'll have to scrap everything I made.
It seemed he would have to throw out all the clothes he had crafted inside his pocket dimension. If this was what the mainstream wore, the outfits he had designed would make him stick out like a sore thumb.
Hmm, this one's a bit plain. Is that one too flashy?
Juhan continued to flip through the racks, taking his time.
Suddenly, he sensed someone approaching him from behind. It wasn't the shop assistant from earlier.
Who is...?
Juhan turned his head to check the presence.
"Ohhh..."
"..."
A middle-aged man stood there, staring at Juhan with a look of sheer awe. However, his eyes weren't fixed on Juhan's face.
This guy...
Juhan could feel it instinctively. In fact, even a child could have guessed.
He's staring at my clothes.
A headache began to bloom behind Juhan's temples. Of course, the man had no idea of Juhan's inner turmoil and simply continued to inspect the fabric with intense curiosity.
"I haven't seen a cut like this in ages!"
He was now circling Juhan openly, treating him like a mannequin on display.
"Look at this stitching. Nobody uses this technique anymore... How on earth is a garment like this still in such pristine condition?"
Scribble, scribble.
He muttered to himself, nodded in realization, and even began taking notes in a small pocketbook.
Reach.
He even reached out to lift Juhan's sleeve without asking.
...Is this guy serious?
Just as Juhan's patience was wearing thin, the shop assistant, who had been watching the scene unfold, finally intervened.
"B-Boss, you're making the customer uncomfortable."
"Ah... Oh dear."
Realizing his blunder at last, the man—the owner of the shop—bowed apologetically to Juhan.
"My apologies. I tend to lose my head whenever I see a unique piece of clothing."
"I understand. It happens."
"It's just so fascinating! Ah, by the way... did you come here to buy some clothes?"
Where else would I go to buy clothes, a bakery? Juhan thought.
Juhan wondered what the man was getting at, but the owner's next words made his intentions crystal clear.
"In that case, would you be willing to sell that outfit to me?"
"Excuse me?"
The owner was suddenly asking to buy the very clothes off his back.
"Ah, is it a cherished heirloom? Is that why?"
It was an incredibly abrupt proposal. Juhan had come to buy clothes, yet somehow, he was being asked to sell his own.
"Tell you what! Pick any three outfits in the shop. Any price, they're yours. Let's trade them for your clothes."
"B-Boss! What are you talking about all of a sudden?!"
"Hush, you. I'm the boss here."
The assistant looked ready to throttle her employer, asking if he was actively trying to bankrupt the business. Snippets of their hushed argument drifted over, mentioning something about being in the red again this month.
Perhaps because Juhan remained completely unfazed by the offer, the owner grew desperate.
"F-Five outfits! How about that?"
"Are you serious, sir?"
The owner, anxious to secure the deal, kept raising the stakes on his own.
The offer of three outfits quickly ballooned to ten. That was how desperately he wanted Juhan's clothes.
I was actually planning on throwing them away, though.
Juhan didn't really care. He had planned to change and toss his old clothes into a corner of his pocket dimension anyway.
There was no reason to refuse. Besides, he didn't need ten outfits.
"Alright, let's do it."
"R-Really?"
"But I don't need ten. Just three will do."
He had already memorized the local designs, and if he ever needed more, he could just manifest them in his pocket dimension.
Three outfits—including the one he would wear out—were more than enough.
Of course, the owner seemed to interpret his modesty in a completely different light.
"Thank you! Thank you so much!"
He made an absolute scene, babbling about how he would never forget this kindness and how he would treasure the garment forever.
Chime, chime.
"Safe travels, young man!"
"..."
After that bizarre ordeal, Juhan finally stepped back out onto the street.
He was now wearing one of his newly acquired outfits, with the other two neatly folded in his hands.
He had successfully blended in with the local fashion, yet his headache had somehow gotten worse.
His next stop was an inn.
He needed a place to stay, and he knew there was no better place to gather information than a local tavern.
Juhan picked the most decent-looking establishment in the vicinity and stepped inside.
The moment he crossed the threshold, a colorful cast of characters filled his vision.
Carpenters, soldiers, adventurers...
All sorts of people were gathered around the tables, chatting away.
A man who appeared to be the innkeeper approached him.
He was leaning casually against the counter, resting his chin on his hand.
"Welcome. Looking for a room, or just a meal?"
His stout, jovial build practically screamed "innkeeper."
"Both, please. I'd like a single room."
"How many nights?"
"Let's start with three days."
"That'll be... four silver coins, meals included."
Juhan did some quick mental math. The price didn't seem like a rip-off at all. In fact, considering it included meals, it was actually quite cheap.
Juhan pulled out the silver coins and paid the man.
I don't actually need to eat, though.
To be honest, he didn't need sustenance. His current body didn't require food to function.
He simply wanted to avoid drawing unwanted attention. He didn't want people whispering about the weird guy who never ate.
"Have you had lunch yet? Or should I whip something up for you now?"
"Um... yes, please. Now would be great."
"Alright. Head on up and check out your room first."
Taking the key, Juhan headed upstairs to inspect his quarters.
Creak.
Just a standard room.
Nothing out of the ordinary. A decent bed, a window that let in plenty of sunlight, and a clean towel to wash up with. This was more than enough. He was quite satisfied.
Step, step.
Once he finished checking the room, Juhan headed back downstairs. The innkeeper greeted him immediately.
"Ah, back down? How's the room?"
"It's nice. I like it."
"Right? I take pride in keeping this place spotless. I've set your meal over there, so go ahead and dig in."
On the table the innkeeper pointed to sat a bowl of steaming hot soup and a loaf of bread.
Juhan slid into the seat.
"..."
He stared at the food.
He didn't expect much. He had experimented with making all kinds of food back in his pocket dimension, so he had eaten his fair share of delicacies.
He had conjured everything from noodles and meats to exotic fruits.
Figuring this wouldn't be any different, Juhan slowly picked up his spoon.
Sip. Chew.
"...!"
But then...
W-What is this?
The moment the soup hit his tongue, it felt as if a bolt of lightning had struck his brain.
Exquisite! How could such a flavor exist in this world?
Gulp. Gulp.
His movements became mechanical. He shoveled spoonfuls of soup into his mouth, followed by massive bites of bread.
In the blink of an eye, the food in front of him vanished.
Before he even realized what he was doing, Juhan found himself standing in front of the innkeeper, holding out his empty bowl for seconds.
However, the innkeeper was already in the middle of a conversation with another patron. And the topic was...
"Hey, Logan. What the hell is wrong with the soup today?"
"What do you mean? I made it the exact same way I always do."
"Like hell you did. God, did you spit in this or something? Look, I can stomach almost anything, but this is completely inedible."
They think this is bad?
It was utterly incomprehensible to Juhan. The man was actually complaining about this heavenly dish.
"If you don't want to eat it, then don't..."
"..."
Sensing Juhan standing silently behind them, both Logan and the complaining patron turned around.
They stared back and forth between Juhan's face and the empty bowl in his hands, their expressions filled with utter disbelief.
"Wait a minute... you ate all of that?"
"Ha! See? I told you your taste buds were garbage!"
"No, that's impossible..."
"Beat it, beat it! I need to talk to this young man."
Logan shooed the man away.
"So, young man. What can I do for you?"
A massive, triumphant grin spread across Logan's face, contrasting sharply with the other patron's horrified expression.
"Ah, I was wondering if I could get some more soup, please."
"H-He's insane..."
"You liked it that much? Haha, what a fellow!"
Hearing Juhan ask for seconds, Logan let out a hearty laugh, absolutely delighted.
"Normally, I'd charge you another copper, but you get a free pass. Seeing someone enjoy my cooking this much makes it all worth it. I can easily spare another bowl!"
"Really? Thank you so much."
"Just give me a moment. I'll heat it up... about three minutes?"
The other patron, watching this exchange, shook his head in sheer bewilderment and walked away. Only God knew what was going through his mind.
Juhan realized this was the perfect opportunity to naturally gather some information.
"By the way, there seem to be a lot of soldiers and adventurers around."
"Aye. It's the season when the stone-hide boars run rampant."
And so, Juhan and Logan struck up a casual conversation.
Juhan asked about various everyday matters before casually steering the conversation toward his main point, acting as if it were a mere afterthought.
"...Still, it seems like a peaceful world to live in, doesn't it?"
"Of course. No major dangers, and making a living isn't too hard."
Now was the time. It was the perfect moment to bring up that name.
"I suppose we have the hero, Karius, to thank for that? He brought peace to the world, after all."
It was a flawless transition, smooth as silk.
Yet, for some reason, Logan frowned slightly, looking utterly baffled by Juhan's words.
"...Karius?"
He tilted his head, as if the name meant absolutely nothing to him.
"Y-You know, the hero Karius. The one who vanquished the evil cultists."
Had he made a mistake? Juhan found himself babbling, adding more details in a slight panic.
Did this innkeeper seriously not know who Karius was? The Karius?
In the novel, Karius was a household name, famous enough for every sentient being on the continent to know him...
"Hmm..."
"..."
Logan stared at Juhan as if he had grown a second head. Juhan's heart began to race with tension.
Say something, anything, please.
Just as the silence was becoming unbearable...
Clap!
"Ah! Are you talking about the Valter family?"
Logan clapped his hands in realization. But the name that left his mouth wasn't Karius—it was "Valter."
"Valter...? Ah, yes! That's right!"
Relief washed over Juhan. Finally, a name he recognized.
Valter was Karius's surname. His full name was Karius Valter.
Has he already been honored so highly that people refer to him by his family name instead of his given name? As expected of the protagonist. Even a humble innkeeper spoke of his lineage with such reverence.
"S-So... how is Karius Valter doing? What has he been up to lately?"
"Karius? Haha, you keep saying the strangest things."
Logan chuckled, seemingly unfazed by Juhan's odd phrasing. He casually ladled the freshly warmed soup back into Juhan's bowl.
"The Valter family is up in the Northern region, of course. They've always been there."
"The Northern region?"
The revelation that the Valters were in the North struck Juhan like a physical blow. According to his knowledge, the Northern region was where...
The Cavern I was about to emerge from is up there.
No way. Seriously...? Are they still camping out there? And I almost walked right into them?
A sudden chill ran down his spine.
Shivering at the terrifying realization, Juhan desperately tried to maintain his composure.
He forced a tight smile and pressed on.
"K-Karius really is incredible. Dedicating his entire life to fulfilling his duty..."
"Hey, young man."
Once again, the response was not what Juhan expected. Logan simply stared at him with a mixture of confusion and curiosity.
Logan tapped the counter.
"This 'Karius' you've been talking about... you don't mean the legendary hero Karius, do you? The founding patriarch of the Valter family?"
"Yes...?"
Why was he asking such an obvious question? Was there some other Karius? Oddly enough, upon hearing Juhan's confirmation, Logan's tense expression finally softened.
"Ah, I get it. You're just pulling my leg."
He waved his hand dismissively with a hearty laugh, as if Juhan had just told a joke, gesturing for him to go back and finish his soup.
"P-Pulling your leg? But Karius definitely..."
But having come this far, Juhan couldn't back down. He opened his mouth to press further, but...
...the innkeeper's next words made him doubt his own ears. He heard them clearly, yet his brain refused to process the information.
"The hero Karius is long dead."
"What?"
The words were delivered with casual indifference. Unless Juhan had completely misheard, Logan had just stated that Karius was dead.
"Over a thousand years ago, in fact."
Over a thousand years ago.
Clatter!
"Whoa, whoa! Watch out!"
"..."
The bowl of soup Juhan had been holding slipped from his numb fingers, clattering onto the floor and spilling its contents everywhere.