Do You Have a Girlfriend?
Canelly held out the subspace key with trembling hands.
"I-I'm just lending it to you...? You have to—you absolutely have to give it back..."
"Yes. Who would keep it? I'll use it carefully and return it."
I took the subspace key and turned it over in my hands, examining it from every angle. A golden key set with a crimson gem. It gleamed so brilliantly that even a clueless street vagrant would have known at a glance it was something precious.
The kind of thing someone might snatch the moment it was carelessly displayed. Fortunately, Canelly hung the key on a necklace enchanted with anti-theft magic and slipped it around my neck.
"I-It looks good on you. Yeah..."
"Thank you. How do I use this?"
"Imagine there's a door in your mind, and turn the key as if you're opening that door..."
"Ah. Got it."
Click— The subspace key plunged into empty air and opened the subspace. Inside the newly revealed space lay the dismembered dragon corpse and heaps of gold bars the count had amassed.
I stepped inside briefly, pulled out the dragon heart, and handed it straight to Canelly.
"Here. Take it."
"Th-This is...?"
"You said you needed it, right? Wasn't that why you came looking for me in the first place?"
"R-Right! Yeah! I didn't think you'd hand it over so easily... Wh-What about the money?"
"I'll consider the gold bars inside as payment. It's a hassle, so please handle them for me."
"Okay, okay!"
Canelly nodded as if she would gladly surrender any amount of gold bars so long as she could claim the heart. Tucking the dragon's heart into her robes, she spoke in a slightly excited tone.
"Th-Then— I'll be going now. S-See you next time!"
"Take care."
"Yeah! You take care too, Evan! See you later!"
With her farewell complete, she vanished in a flash. Just like when I first met her, her presence and form disappeared in an instant.
Watching her leave, I stood there blankly for a moment, lost in thought.
What can I do with this? No—what should I do?
I thought of the responsibility a hero ought to carry. To protect someone, you needed power. Unfortunately, I had a feeling I could no longer grow stronger simply by swinging my sword more and polishing my technique.
To improve beyond my current level, I needed real combat training—the same way I had stolen Cyrus's sword techniques by facing him head-on.
What I needed right now was real combat. But if I ran into a powerhouse like the Blue King along the way, I could die.
I need a way to get stronger right now.
Fortunately, a method came to mind at once.
I found the hint in a hero story I had read as a child.
—Hero, are you fine with that equipment?
—No, I'm not. Plenty of problems.
—There's a holy sword prepared for the hero in that shrine over there. Take it.
A journey to defeat the Demon King. Along the way, the hero grew his skills while also acquiring powerful gear. The holy sword he obtained then didn't merely play a part in slaying the Demon King—it performed so insanely well you might wonder whether it was the holy sword, not the hero, that had done the killing.
I didn't need something on the level of a holy sword, but I needed a decent weapon. Something I could use against opponents stronger than me—or at the very least, equipment that wouldn't leave me helpless against magic I didn't understand, the way I had been this time.
"Alright."
I had a dragon corpse that would make the finest materials imaginable. I also had the standing to commission equipment, and the money needed to forge it was already piled high.
I headed straight for the artisan district of the Royal Capital.
To have my sword and gear made.
The Royal Capital was packed with countless artisans. Not only was it the easiest place to make money—it was also the safest location in the country.
The Blue King did not treat the artisans who came to his nation like slaves or oppress them. His mindset was simple: so long as they paid their taxes properly, he didn't much care what they did.
Thanks to that, countless artisans who had been worked like slaves in other countries or organizations sought out the kingdom and settled in the Royal Capital.
No matter how powerful a superhuman might be, no one caused a ruckus or staged a kidnapping inside the Royal Capital under the Blue King's influence. Pull a stunt like that in someone else's territory and you wouldn't leave with your life. And any superhuman strong enough to survive such a thing wouldn't need to stage a kidnapping in the first place—they'd simply demand the goods outright.
"What? You want a sword made from dragon bones? Pwahaha—! You think something like that is possible?!"
That was why the artisans of the Royal Capital carried pride greater than most superhumans. Even if the person who came to them was a high-ranking adventurer or a famous superhuman, they didn't particularly care.
After all, those people had come because they needed the artisan's skill—and no matter how strong they were, causing a scene meant instant death at the Blue King's hands.
Having often watched adventurers who thought they were tough wave swords at artisans only to become headless corpses in the blink of an eye, the artisans no longer bowed to threats.
"Why not?"
"If you don't know why not, go study and come back! Damn brat, being an eyesore first thing in the morning..."
"No—why isn't it possible?"
"Get out!"
Of course, that also meant the number of artisans who'd eaten manners for breakfast had grown. Kicked out of the shop without understanding a thing, I cursed under my breath and wandered through the other shops.
Unfortunately, most of them reacted much the same as the first one I'd entered.
"Crazy bastard."
"Talking nonsense."
"If that were possible, I'd want to make one myself."
Getting cursed out was the norm. Being ignored was common. Being politely sent away with a hollow laugh was the best you could hope for.
Kicked out of nearly every shop along the main street, I sat on a bench in the middle of the road and wondered how things had come to this.
Do these people have money rotting away? Is that why they refuse commissions even when you offer to pay?
I couldn't know the answer. But one thing was certain: if the artisans said they wouldn't make it, I couldn't get a weapon.
I chewed my lip slightly and considered whether I should seek out another city. But I wondered if there was a blacksmith skilled enough to forge dragon bones anywhere else. If someone like that were sitting in some empty provincial town, they would have been kidnapped long ago.
"Sigh. Whatever."
Figuring I'd have to get a weapon later, I dusted off my rear and stood up.
Just as I was about to spit once on the street with the resolve never to return and leave the artisan district, someone came running toward me, drenched in sweat.
About half the height of an ordinary person—but with muscles bulging out to the sides. A dwarf.
"Huff—huff—! A-Are you the one who asked for a weapon made from dragon bones?"
"Huh? Yes. But it's fine now. Just don't make it..."
"The corpse! You have the corpse, right?!"
"I do, but... I said I'm just leaving?"
"Please let me make you a weapon!"
The sweat-soaked dwarf said this and began crawling on the ground. When a man old enough to be my father clung to my pant leg, covered in sweat, I had no idea what to do and gently pushed him away.
"I'll do anything, so please—!"
"A-Alright! Alright, so let go of this first...!"
"Really?!"
"Yes! So get up already!"
That day, I realized that some middle-aged man crawling on the ground while clinging to my pant leg was more dangerous to my heart than any curse a black mage could fire.
A smithy that only appeared after going deep into the alleyways from the main street of the artisan district.
That was the smithy of the artisan who'd been clinging to my pant leg.
"Ahem— My introduction is late. I'm Yumir."
"I'm Evan."
"Can I see the corpse first?"
At Yumir's urging, I gripped the subspace key right there and opened the subspace. Yumir's eyes changed the moment he saw the key, and when he saw the dragon corpse piled up inside, he began trembling all over.
Approaching the dragon corpse and stroking the scales that covered the flesh, Yumir realized the body before him was a real dragon.
"I-It was real...!"
"I couldn't exactly commission a fake, could I?"
"Th-That's true. Hmm. You can't make something with a fake, after all."
"More importantly—what was all that stuff people were saying? About going to study and coming back..."
"Ahh, that—they probably said that based on your appearance."
With his eyes still fixed on the dragon corpse, Yumir casually opened his mouth and explained why I had been rejected.
"A dragon corpse is a material so rare it's nearly impossible to obtain. When requesting a weapon made from such material, the rule here is usually that you bring the material yourself."
"I know that. That's why I brought it, right?"
"The ones on the main street are all greenhorns. They judge people based only on appearance."
"What does that mean..."
Chewing over Yumir's words, I understood and frowned slightly. What he meant was this:
You're just a kid. A dragon corpse? You couldn't have gotten something like that.
Those so-called artisans, unworthy of the name, had looked only at my appearance and dismissed me.
I held back the urge to run over and give them a good stabbing as I looked at Yumir.
"...So, Mr. Yumir, how did you come to see me?"
"I heard there was a greenhorn asking for a weapon made from dragon bones, so I ran over just in case. I'm not an idiot who judges by appearance alone."
"And if I hadn't had the corpse?"
"Then I'd have wasted my time, so I'd have to smash your skull in."
Watching Yumir casually spit out such a brutal remark, I let out a hollow laugh. Like a true artisan, there was something off in one corner of his head.
After carefully examining the corpse, Yumir seemed satisfied and stepped out of the subspace, shouting toward the inside of the smithy.
"Yumina! Come out and help move the corpse—!"
"Yeees—!"
A cute female voice came from inside. Hearing that voice, I looked at Yumir with surprise.
"Your wife?"
"My daughter."
"You're married? That's unexpected."
"What, you think dwarves don't get married?"
"No, it's not that..."
"Dad, what am I supposed to move?"
And then the cute voice that had come from inside the smithy rang out right behind me. I turned my head to see her face—and froze stiff at the giant standing behind me.
"Hello."
A cheerfully smiling dwarf woman. Like a dwarf, her face was cute. But her build was not cute at all.
A massive height that easily cleared six-three, and a muscular physique to match. Looking at a body so solid it was hard to believe she was a woman—my expression stiffened slightly.
She's bigger than me...
"You have a cute face."
"Y-Yes?"
"Do you have a girlfriend? How about me?"
I began trembling as I watched Yumina hit on me.