Chapter 266
Chapter 266
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 266
Chapter Title: Autumn's Threshold #2
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Paranoia scarfed down the dry bread and watery soup like there was no tomorrow. She looked just like someone who hadn’t eaten in days, staring at food right in front of her.
“Delish...!”
“Good, eat up. Mind if I try one?”
“Ah-! These are my shares, so no stealing...! If you’re gonna do that, order your own, Hassan-sir-!”
She was even eyeing me warily, the one footing the bill for dinner. Had she been living in the wild or something? Now that I thought about it, there were faint scars on her forehead and the back of her hand.
I considered asking how she’d been getting by, but she was still chowing down, and with this long sleepless night ahead, we’d have plenty of time to talk later. So I held off.
Just watching her eat made my own stomach feel full—not quite, but close enough. Sitting across from someone with no grudge against me was easing my frayed nerves these days.
From what I knew, nymphs gave off an aura that soothed people’s minds all around them. Paranoia seemed to have that effect too. Or maybe not.
After polishing off all three portions solo, Paranoia finally spoke up, looking satisfied.
“Now I feel alive again. Total recharge...! Honestly, looking back, it wasn’t that great...!”
What the hell was that supposed to mean?
Trying to make sense of Paranoia was a fool’s errand. So I just nodded along and asked.
“Good to hear. So what brings you here? How’d you know I was at this dump?”
“Heard about it from Luna-sama.”
“Luna?”
Her name brought a flash of joy. But with it came worry and unease, all tangled up.
“Luna doing okay?”
“She’s fine. That scary slaughter demon Hippolyte’s there...!”
“Yeah?”
Hippolyte must be with Luna. That eased my mind a little. No safer spot than by her side. Though, being with Hippolyte...
What did that mean, exactly?
I was about to mull it over when Paranoia piped up, snapping me out of it.
“Luna-sama wants to see you, Hassan-sir. When works for you?”
“Me?”
It had been days since the trial—days I hadn’t laid eyes on Luna.
Days blurring into one another in this bleak inn made it natural to miss the girl I’d shared a blanket with. Looked like she felt the same.
But not yet.
“Can’t for a while. You know why.”
What popped into my head were the cowards lobbing stones at me from alleys, or thugs like today’s creeping into inns to garrote me.
I’d been cleared at trial. But that didn’t wipe away my sins.
No punishment meant the “arsonist” label stuck, so all the folks who’d never liked me before...
“Hey, isn’t that the Samaritan? Take him down, and I’m the city’s hero, right?”
Guys itching for glory kept coming at me, no respite day or night.
If I hung around Luna or my other contacts amid this mess, they’d get dragged in for sure. So until the storm blew over, I’d chosen this lonely routine.
“Punk, scared of me? Heard of Bendem, North Gate’s chain-fist legend? I’ve dropped Silver-tier adventurers!”
Bang-.
A reggae-haired brute with chains coiled around his fist smashed my table. Empty plates and bowls crashed to the floor in a shattering mess.
“Y-You scum! Daring to mess with Hassan-sir? Unforgivable...! My last precious sausage hit the deck...!”
“Huh? What’s this pipsqueak? A nymph-?”
“Food-wasters are the arch-enemies the great Hassan-sama despises most! You’re done for...! Beg all you want, won’t save you...!”
“What’s the runt babbling? Scared stiff, kiddo?”
“N-Not a runt, I’m Paranoia...! Hassan-sir, this jerk called your right-hand girl—me—a kid, insulting my mighty self and by extension your honor...! Teach him a lesson, sir...!”
These damn scrubs gave zero breathing room.
I rose from my chair.
Squared off against the chain-fisted goon—Bendem, probably. Shorter than me by a few inches, but built solid and tough.
“Oho, big boy like they say?”
He stared me down without flinching, even nose-to-nose. Pure fighter mind games before the bell.
Meant he trusted his chops. Back-alley brawler who’d felled a Silver-tier? Cocky was fair.
I clamped both hands on his shoulders. Jammed thumbs into bone gaps and pumped in qi.
“Huh-!?”
His legs buckled at the knees, dumping him on the floor.
“W-What... what kinda power!?”
“Heard you dropped a Silver-tier. Had hopes. You’re weak.”
“H-Hah, th-this ain’t kneeling—it’s coiling for launch!”
“Say hi to my knee then.”
I hiked my knee into his lowered face—a solid knee strike.
Body’s deadliest weapons: elbows, knees. Philtrum smack from a power knee? Game over.
“A-As expected-! Downed the rude punk with the 120th finisher, ‘Knee’! He’ll reflect in Tartarus now-!”
120th finisher: Knee. Paranoia slacking on names now? Her dopey vibe killed any real menace—I just chuckled.
“Shit. Anyway, you see why I can’t meet Luna. Get it?”
“Yup, got it. Can’t let Luna-sama witness these pests buzzing you.”
“Good, sharp as ever. True right-hand material.”
“Then bump my cut to eight parts?”
“I’ll consider. Done eating? Let’s bounce. Inn swap tomorrow—again. No clue how these scrubs keep tracking me.”
I headed back to the beat-up room with Paranoia.
“Crashing here?”
“Too late to head out. Hell’s Border White Paranoia roaming at night? Pity anyone crossing paths—they’re goners.”
Night streets were rough. Single room though—one narrow bed. As I pondered, she curled up on the bare wooden floor.
“Night, Hassan-sir. See ya tomorrow.”
“Floor?”
“Wood floor alone makes this a palace. Roof blocks rain, walls stop wind...”
Huh. Was she the ascetic type?
My Paranoia was a greedy one. Not just yielding the bed out of niceness—something big must’ve gone down while we were apart.
I spread my blanket on the floor for her and probed gently.
“How you been? Word was you joined some foundation.”
“N-No... I don’t know nothin’-.”
She started shivering—I dropped it.
We ended up bedding down under one roof, vibe a tad awkward. My eyes wouldn’t quit though, wide awake.
“Hey, Paranoia.”
“Here, sir.”
“Luna say anything else ‘bout me? Past the ‘wanna meet’ bit. Anything.”
“Nope.”
“Right.”
Something churned low in my gut.
Thugs weren’t the only reason we were split. Another one—just me and Luna knew.
Us, who never fought? Clashed hard the night the trial wrapped.
No shouting match—I just took it. First time Luna raged like that. Shocked me.
I’d steamrolled ahead solo—fair gripe. All I could do was apologize.
Hassan, now’s your shot. Anything else you hid? Spill. Secret plans, secret deeds. Find out later, I’ll be madder—tell me now.
I owned up to my secrets. Hindsight: maybe her trap.
Hippolyte?
Yeah.
Luna’s face then...
Talk after...
Regretted now—wrong words? Better play?
Maybe she wanted to meet for something huge. Like “we’re done.” Had to be. Nauseating.
But she was right—that was the moment. Confess, fix us—or never.
“Hmm-.”
Her bunking with Hippolyte? Meant they’d talked it out? Glimmer of hope.
Luna, sorry. No defense.
...
Begged till hands cramped—no reply. She let me pack light and bail from the cabin, silent, no grab.
Maybe that was the answer.
Thoughts storming my skull, pure torment.
Hell wasn’t out there—right here, heart and head.
Acquitted? Self-inflicted penance for my crimes.
Karma’s payback.
Damn scrubs.
Better stay busy. Idle hands, comfy body—brain floods with crap, tangled mess.
So push-ups.
Two hands start. Drop fingers one by one. Endgame: one thumb, whole weight, mind blank.
Better.
Damn, dying here. Luna’s thoughts now? Asleep? Or like me, night-haunting.
Hoping forgiveness, but if she’d moved on solo? Gut-punch sad. Might bawl on spot.
Prep the heart gradual.
“Phew-. One fifty-five-.”
Love’s a bitch.
Folks looping this hell, grinning happy—incomprehensible.
“Six hundred thirty-eight-.”
Pulled an all-nighter.
*
*
*
“Hassan-sir, face all shadowy... you okay?”
Sleepless me got hailed by Paranoia, stirring from the floor.
Scooped shattered glass littering the inn floor, checked my mug—yeah, grim as hell per her.
Sunken sockets, heavy bags, scruffy beard—like a wildman ranting after days in the wastes.
“Yup, that menacing mug? Low-rent thugs’ll bolt on sight...! Pure hellface!”
“Shitty face?”
“Could say so.”
“...”
Normally I’d snap back. Her yapping beside me? Mood lift, weirdly.
Flashed on breakup buddies—girlfriend splits wrecked ‘em. Hated solo time, late-night friend benders, booze marathons.
Vague grasp back then. Now? Crystal.
Silence crashing in alone: memory waves, regrets, sweet recalls, raw feels—unbearable.
“Paranoia.”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks. You perked me up.”
“So... my cut to eight parts?”
“Yup. Nail today’s tasks, make it nine.”
“Leave it all to me...!”
She lit up, raring to assist. Scamming a kid? Guilt twinge. But her chatter fueled me.
Day to grind.
Hooded up deep, East Gate bound again amid whispers.
Samaritan-.
Scary-.
Paranoia griped, hating the vibe.
“Idiot mobs. Finger-pointing Hassan-sama, clueless. Pathetic. Ungrateful for his gracious flames.”
“Pipe down.”
Hit Galad’s laundry. He jabbed a thumb elsewhere.
“Repairs wrapped today. Figured a month—your help? Weeks. Solid.”
“Good.”
“North Gate waste burner next. Last stop, rough one. You holding?”
Galad eyed my robe-shadowed pallor.
“Spill the truth now?”
“I’m good.”
Quick nod-off, laundry to incinerator.
No fire scars there—labor pit for convict rehab mostly.
Spotted her: long ears, face slathered black, shoveling muck.
“Elfride. Figured you’d be here.”
She turned.
Been ages since last meet.