I stepped out of the blacksmith’s shop, breathing heavily. If it hadn’t been for her, I wouldn’t have had to rush out like this, but her strange remarks forced me to take drastic measures.

I set down the culprit who had caused all this commotion and grabbed her cheeks with both hands, rubbing them vigorously.

“No more saying weird things outside! People will get the wrong idea!”

“It’s all for you, Master.”

All for me?

I appreciate the sentiment, but because of your “kindness,” I almost ended up in jail!

This was the classic case of good intentions leading to bad results!

Her attitude, as if she was trying to prove she had done nothing wrong by implicating me, irked me, so I pulled her cheeks even more.

“Uweee…”

Though her expression didn’t change, the way her arms flailed suggested that my lesson was sinking in. Gotcha!

As I stretched her cheeks like sticky rice cake, she seemed to be enjoying it a bit too much.

That should be enough. I let go, and a satisfying snapping sound echoed as her cheeks bounced back. She seemed to be in a bit of pain, clutching her cheeks with tears forming in her eyes.

Ugh. I can’t let myself get soft just because of that.

If I do, it’ll only encourage bad habits!

As I stared sternly down at Asti, she looked up at me with tear-filled eyes.

“…If Master enjoys this, I’ll endure it.”

Making me feel like a terrible person with her words!

“Hey, don’t say it like that!”

“You looked happy when you were pulling my cheeks…”

“When did I ever look happy?!”

Sure, it was cute how soft her cheeks were, and it was amusing, but that doesn’t mean I was happy about it!

“...Oh.”

“Wait, Muyon? No, that’s not what it is!”

I desperately tried to deny it as Muyon seemed to come to some sort of understanding.

“…Tanton prefers to be the one doing it rather than receiving…”

“What?! No, that’s not it!”

Finally, when I raised my voice to stop her, Muyon’s expression returned to normal.

This sneaky assassin maid! She was trying to socially ruin me again!

I had a feeling she’d been more proactive recently.

And with that last remark, Asti’s wrongdoing was completely overshadowed. Where did she learn this high-level manipulation?

Anyway, this wasn’t what I was supposed to be focusing on.

Her random outburst had completely derailed my train of thought.

The blacksmith, Simtol—he seemed like a typical grumpy old man who’d complain about how things used to be, but fortunately, things went smoother than expected.

Considering how kind he was to kids, it seemed he was a decent person after all.

“Well, at least everything turned out fine.”

“Yeah, I was actually planning to come by for a couple of days to keep pestering him, but I’m relieved it was resolved quickly.”

…Pestering that old man? Maybe Muyon is more mentally tough than she lets on, just playing a role. Otherwise, who would even consider coming back to pressure him?

Well, in any case, I managed to get a custom weapon, so that’s great.

“Thanks, Muyon. Because of you, I’m finally getting a proper weapon.”

“…But for your style, wouldn’t gauntlets or knuckles suit you better…”

“No way!”

“Eek!”

Does she even know what she’s talking about?

A knight who uses a lance is practical, but a knight who uses a sword is romantic. Mentioning any other type of knight is too niche or unorthodox.

Suggesting I take up martial arts instead? I’d rather quit being a knight and join the hunters for some wilderness adventures.

She probably thinks that because I borrowed Bell’s power during the fight with the Dragon Slayer, but relying on an external god’s power is too taxing. It drains life energy, and in a long battle, it could shorten my lifespan. I want to live a long life, so I’d rather avoid it unless absolutely necessary.

Phew. Now, let’s head to the market.

I lost track of time with all this conversation.

“I should head to the market now. There’s something I need to look into.”

“Oh, really? Hmm… I’ve got something scheduled later, so I can’t join you at the market.”

“That’s too bad. It would’ve been nice to have you along.”

I responded to Muyon’s words with a faint smile.

Of course, I was just being polite.

Since I needed to gather information about the external gods, it was better to do so alone.

Even though Muyon knows some of my circumstances, talking too much could expose things I’m trying to keep hidden, which wouldn’t be ideal. Unless there’s a compelling reason, explaining myself later would only increase distrust.

Moreover, it would look strange for two knights to go around asking shady vendors about external gods.

“Oh, it’s a shame?”

“Well, yeah. Isn’t it?”

Muyon’s face started to flush, and she seemed to be struggling to say something, hesitating several times.

What’s going on?

Finally, she closed her eyes tightly and shook her head vigorously.

“W-well, have a nice walk!”

“Be careful!”

She then dashed off, leaving behind more steam than White Mask’s train.

What was that about?

Did I say something wrong?

Since I couldn’t figure it out, I decided to ask Muyon about it the next time we met. It felt awkward now that she’d suddenly acted that way.

After Muyon left, I wandered around the area.

I was worried I’d have to go all the way back to the hearth and request a map, but luckily, there was a bustling market not far from the blacksmith.

Unlike the typical medieval market you might imagine, there were no vendors hanging things from poles or laying them on tables. Instead, everything was in baskets on the ground, with the vendors themselves seated on the ground, looking down.

Maybe they were avoiding eye contact to avoid drawing the attention of the Giant of the Snowy Mountain? The vendors wore thick clothes, unlike the customers, likely because the market was a bit further from the hearth.

It was a uniquely Londan scene—bleak yet full of life, with a strange irony.

Despite the atmosphere, the vendors were sincere in selling their goods, each shouting out to attract customers. If you walked around absentmindedly, you might even be startled by the voices coming from below.

Since entering the market, Asti had been looking around, clearly fascinated by everything she saw. It was probably her first time seeing such a scene, unlike me, who was just experiencing it for the first time after being pulled into this world.

Given that she had been raised as a slave her whole life, this was likely her first time seeing a market.

I took her hand to make sure I didn’t lose her, and she looked up at me.

“There are a lot of people here. Hold on tight, so you don’t get lost.”

“Yes.”

She answered so sweetly.

Holding her hand as we walked through the market felt like walking with a child, and she seemed genuinely excited by the experience. I felt glad I had brought her along; it seemed like this would be a good time for her as well.

With the sightseeing done, it was time to find the information vendor.

Seeing Asti staring at the food stalls with the same pleading look she had given me that morning when she asked to be petted made me want to buy everything for her, but I didn’t have time for that.

I was here to gather information, after all.

Valuable information is usually found in the back alleys of shady markets or hidden in the corners of old books in libraries. I came to the market first because I figured searching the library would be a waste of time.

As I was about to turn away, Asti suddenly stopped in her tracks, almost causing me to stumble backward.

“Asti?”

When I called her name and looked at her, an “ah” escaped my lips.

Her gaze was fixed on something, and then she began looking back and forth between me and the object with that same intense look.

What on earth could it be this time that made her so determined? Then I saw it—beautifully crafted pink macarons.

Hmm. Well, I guess it’s only natural for her to want something sweet at her age.

Given that she was giving me such a desperate look, I figured it wouldn’t hurt to buy her one.

“Hello, how much for the macarons?”

“Three silver coins.”

The rough-looking vendor held up three fingers as he spoke. From the looks of him, the macarons were probably as good as they looked.

“Which color do you want?”

“...Hmm.”

Asti began to carefully examine the macarons.

It seemed like a serious but happy dilemma for her, as she couldn’t decide right away. I guess for kids, even the time spent choosing can be a joy.

Fortunately, Asti didn’t take too long to make her decision and pointed at one of the macarons.

“Ah.”

Of all the choices, she picked the one with white meringue and red cream.

…It felt oddly symbolic, but I decided to let it slide, assuming she just liked the colors.

“Here you go.”

“Thank you.”

I took the macaron the vendor handed me and immediately offered it to Asti.

“Go ahead, try it.”

“…Yes.”

Asti accepted it but hesitated to take a bite. Maybe it was too pretty to eat?

“I’ll buy you another one next time we come to the market, so go ahead and enjoy it.”

“…Really?”

Ugh. Her uncharacteristic hesitation made me wonder what kind of life she had led, and it made me feel awful.

“Yeah, if you like, we can come here every day.”

“...Thank you, Master.”

When I smiled at Asti, she finally decided to take a bite of the macaron. After chewing a few times, her eyes widened in delight, which was just adorable.

I should bring her here more often.

If she enjoys it this much.

“…My mother used to give me sweets sometimes. They were delicious.”

She must have been kidnapped by illegal slave traders.

I should have beaten them up more.

“No, my mother trained me as a slave and then sold me.”

“…What?”

Did I just hear something I shouldn’t have?

Did I hear that correctly?

What kind of insane mother would train her child as a slave and then sell her?

I felt like I was about to explode with anger.

But Asti herself remained calm, taking another bite of the macaron and swallowing slowly.

“My mother was a strong person. Maybe she’ll become even stronger in the future. She must have had her reasons for sending me away… Ugh.”

I was listening to Asti’s first-ever complaint when she suddenly let out a pained sound.

“Are you okay?”

“…I cut my tongue on the cookie part.”

Asti stuck out her tongue and looked at me.

…Huh?

“What are you doing?”

“Here.”

She mumbled, her words garbled, pointing to the back of her tongue.

There was a red spot, so it did seem like she had cut her tongue.

“Okay, now put your tongue back in.”

“Yes.”

Asti quickly complied and resumed eating the macaron.

She acted as if nothing had happened, but somehow, I couldn’t shake the feeling that her silence wasn’t just because of the macaron.

I wandered around the market, hoping to find something useful, but it wasn’t easy to come across an information vendor.

They’re usually hidden, but this was ridiculous.

Even after wandering through alleys that seemed more suited for “organ donation,” I still couldn’t find anything.

I figured there’d at least be one around, but there was absolutely nothing.

Who knows when I’ll have time for this again?

Maybe I should check for a hidden branch of the vigilante group or something.

Just as I was about to leave the market to look around the nearby inns, I heard a voice whisper in my ear.

“What are you wandering around for? If you’re looking to buy information, I can give you a good deal.”

I froze.

Was it because I’d finally found what I was searching for?

That was part of it, maybe 30%.

But more than that…

The voice sounded familiar, like I’d heard it somewhere before.

Slowly, I turned toward the source of the voice, and there, with her distinct dark brown hair and sharp eyes—now filled with a playful intensity—stood someone I didn’t expect to see.

And with an arm that should have been gone, waving casually, her face wore that familiar mischievous grin.

“Hehe, long time no see.”

Looking more confident than before, there she was—Agartha.