The Pants-Shitter (1)

Chris, writhing in abdominal agony, ground her teeth.

"Just you wait, missy..."

"I think it's a pretty good deal, though?"

"Are you kidnapping me? This doesn't add up at all on my end..."

Mirabel, fingers interlaced, continued.

"Think about it. News of smooth negotiations with the ducal house—wouldn't that come in handy someday?"

"Hah... scratch kidnapping, make it bandit chief."

"Whatever floats your boat. You'll hit your limit soon enough anyway."

True to her words, a signal was flashing in Chris's sphincter.

Something deep in her gut writhed, sending another warning.

Gurgle rumble!

Chris's face went pale in an instant.

"...This is unfair."

"Oh my."

Mirabel narrowed her eyes.

"I never forced you, did I?"

The abdominal pain surged like a wave again. Chris's back bent lower naturally.

Gurgle!

"......"

"See?"

Mirabel propped her chin leisurely.

"I'm just emphasizing my request right now."

Chris squeezed her eyes shut.

She tried to hold out, but the thing churning in her belly was growing bolder, asserting its presence without shame.

'Fuuuuck!...'

With trembling hands, she lifted the book.

And muttered like a sigh.

"...Pushing someone this far over one book."

Thud. As the book slid across the table, a satisfied smile spread across Mirabel's lips.

Chris bolted from her seat.

"Bathroom!"

"Out and to the left."

Mirabel's finger already pointed down the hall.

Chris was beyond caring about dignity.

Book, negotiations, pride—all shoved aside, she kicked the door open and dashed out.

As the door slammed shut, Mirabel chuckled.

"See? You'll negotiate in the end."

Her finger lightly tapped the book's spine.

"Still, this is a problem."

"Pardon? Isn't this the very book you've been searching for so long, miss?"

Sebas, standing behind her, spoke up.

Mirabel's fingertip lightly brushed the cover.

"Yes. It's the one I was ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠looking for. This book is my precious connection to Luin."

Sebas paused mid-motion.

"Luin... you mean that young master from your visit to the northern territories?"

"Yes. Exactly."

A faint wisp of steam rose from the teacup's rim.

Mirabel lifted it, savoring the subtle aroma wafting up.

"He promised me. That he'd help me find this book together."

The young lady sipped her tea and murmured as an afterthought.

"So... I wish it could stay lost forever, if possible."

Her gaze drifted out the window somewhere.

"That way, I'd have more time with Luin."

The moment Luin heard they should book separate lodgings from the Hero Party, he immediately guided them to his own inn.

Veronica, who had gone along with it on the way to the city outskirts, froze wide-eyed upon arrival.

"Huh?"

The building before her was far from what she'd expected.

She'd imagined a rundown inn for the outskirts, but this was worlds apart.

Neatly trimmed stone walls, large glass windows, a proper sign at the entrance, and even a tidy flower bed.

The passersby looked a cut above ordinary ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠travelers, too.

Less outskirts inn, more upscale spot that could fit right in the capital's heart.

Veronica spoke up again.

"Luin, is this really the place?"

"Yes, my room's the end one on the second floor."

"If I may ask, what's the nightly rate here?"

Luin glanced up at the inn's facade, then shrugged nonchalantly.

"Five silvers. Seven with breakfast."

"...That's on the high end."

"The facilities and food are worth it."

Inside matched his words—spotless, just like the exterior.

The modest lobby had polished floors and neat wall decorations.

A girl flipping through a ledger behind the counter paused, peeking up.

"Oh, Luin?"

The brown-bobbed little girl shoved her chair back and hopped out.

"Long time no see! Wait, no, more importantly..."

She scanned Luin's outfit and condition.

Dusty cloak, scratches here and there—worry creased her face.

"Where've you been this time? You okay?"

"Haha, bit of a situation..."

Luin gave a sheepish smile, glancing around.

"Anyway, Monica, where's Petra?"

"Mom's out shopping."

"Good timing, then. She'd chew me out seeing me like this."

"Early or late, it's ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠coming anyway, right...?"

Fair point.

So Luin tapped Veronica's back, eager to retreat to his room.

"Saintess, let's head in quick. I'll get you the room next to mine."

"Eh? I have money! No need..."

"No. Consider it part of your caregiving fee."

Keeps things clean-cut.

Luin wasn't a pushover. He didn't want debts to this inscrutable saintess.

Ignoring her firm refusal, he shot Monica a subtle glance.

"Monica, put it on the tab. Can't move right now—I'll pay later."

"Mom trusts your credit, so fine, but... who's she? 'Saintess'? Not the real one, right...?"

Luin paused, choosing words.

"Uh, impersonator. Pretty infamous around here."

"L-Luin!?"

Veronica flinched.

Luin quickly pressed a finger to his lips.

"Play along..."

"......?"

Veronica didn't argue, just eyed Monica awkwardly.

The girl seemed to have shrunk a size.

Leaving the spooked Monica behind, Veronica readjusted Luin on her back.

Luin nodded toward the stairs.

"Let's go up."

Veronica climbed, following the hall to the end. Luin pointed to a door.

"That one's mine."

She turned the knob, revealing the room.

Small desk, neatly made bed against the wall.

Veronica scanned it, then laid Luin on the bed and stepped aside.

"Rest first. Stability's key for healing."

Her lips moved, opening a beat late.

"But why'd you say that earlier? Calling me an impersonator..."

Luin stared at the ceiling, chuckling like a sigh.

"Saintess. Know what I'm known as?"

"...Not sure?"

"Guild errand boy."

He slid his gaze her way.

"Rumors of me linking up with the kingdom's great saintess? Hassle for both sides."

"......"

"You'd lose face, I'd draw weird looks."

He continued smoothly.

"Already an untouchable orphan. Strangers is easier for now."

After a silence, she spoke softly.

"...It'll get out soon anyway."

"Temporary license? That'll be fine."

"Why?"

Luin, flat on the bed, flicked his eyes to the ceiling.

"World ain't fair. No matter how I fly, I'm just baggage. Front-page news? At best, 'Farmer Orphan Makes Good' headline."

"......"

"Rough words, but that's pleb reality without backing."

Just regular orphan vs. slightly fancier orphan. No big diff.

Veronica nodded, raising her hand.

"I get you. But one correction: you're not just some pleb. I don't think so."

"Pardon?"

She steadied her breath, posture firm.

"Enough chat. Heal before my stamina drains."

Luin swallowed his questions, clasping hands over his navel.

'Just take the heal quietly.'

No rush now that he was temp baggage for the Hero Party.

The next day, Luin woke hugging his own body.

Thanks to the saintess's healing, but mostly 'cause his miraculously intact self felt precious.

"Whoa..."

Arm up, down, shoulder roll—no lingering stiffness.

But before he could savor the recovery, heavy footsteps echoed from the hall.

Luin sighed deeply.

"...Hah."

Light steps he'd ignore, but metal scraping the floor? Obvious.

Screech, clank.

Heavy armor incoming, he guessed.

'Morning as fuck and they trek to my inn. Bullshit.'

Knock knock.

No waiting—the door flew open, three figures entering.

Hero Edelic in front, Rosemary and Kate behind.

His armor grated with every move, filling the room.

All three looked openly pissed.

Kate especially eyed the room like 'Pleb in a place like this?'

Luin snorted inwardly.

'Got money lines.'

Business back home rolling, assuming Thomas didn't slack.

No need to tell these folks, though. Just tiring.

Sitting on the bed, arms crossed, Luin spoke.

"So, what's the morning visit for?"

Despite the cheek, Edelic answered straight.

"Business."

Coming to a near-death guy's inn for work first thing.

'Weird mindset.'

Edelic pulled out a document casually.

"Expedition report."

Thud. Paper hit the desk.

Luin glanced down: title caught his eye.