“Damn it, there’s no seat again? Hey, Matt! Make some room!”

“If you want a seat, bring your own chair and desk. Why are you making a fuss when I’m busy?”

“What kind of manners are those for talking to a customer?!”

“Because a bum like you isn’t my customer, now get lost!”

“You little…!”

A customer-looking man and the shop’s owner were squabbling, but no one paid them any attention. This sort of thing was routine. Some even enjoyed the show as entertainment.

A public house, or “Pub.”

A communal space often frequented by commoners, serving as a bar and inn. Most people just called it a “pub” for short.

It was always bustling and noisy, with crowds of drunken patrons gathering even late into the night. Though arguments and shouts were common, incidents rarely escalated to anything serious.

That’s because—

“Hey, fight all you want, just don’t drag the guild into it. That’ll just be your loss.”

“……”

Most pubs like this one operated as branches under a guild’s authority. It was common sense to keep things quiet if a dispute broke out.

“Tch, I’ll let it slide. Just bring me some of that tasteless food.”

“…This guy just loves to get punched.”

The food here wasn’t guaranteed to be tasty, but it was cheap and filling, and both the drinks and coffee were affordable, so picking a fight with the pub’s owner wasn’t wise. The carpenter, aware of this, offered an apologetic tip, while the other patrons sighed, sipping their flat, cheap lager with a hint of disappointment as the brief amusement ended.

Amidst the bustling crowd, on the pub’s quieter third-floor lounge, two people were sharing a drink.

Well, to be exact—

“Where do you think you’re going with that drink?”

“B-but I’m an adult!”

“Sure, an adult. But don’t you know academy cadets are banned from drinking until graduation? And you try to break the rules right in front of your instructor—bold move.”

“…That’s harsh.”

While the man ordered his drink, the timid boy pouted as he sipped only orange juice. Having juice when there was alcohol right there—it was frustrating.

“—Oh? This is good.”

His pouting didn’t last long; the orange juice was refreshing and cool. Surprisingly tasty.

Wasn’t this place supposed to serve only cheap stuff?

The man, Ihan, looked at the surprised boy with a smirk.

“The good thing about this pub is they serve decent stuff as long as you pay. That orange juice, for example—they import the ingredients from the southern region. You can’t have alcohol, but it should be enough to make up for it.”

“That’s amazing.”

“The kingdom’s food culture is pretty advanced. The drinks, too. Try them when you graduate.”

“…Gulp.”

“You, a drinker, huh?”

It seemed he knew a good drink when he saw one. It wasn’t unusual for someone who kept their thoughts hidden to release stress through drinking.

“Maybe I should let him have one drink…”

…No, this was right.

Both of them had reputations to uphold, after all. Better not to risk anything that could raise an eyebrow from the start. Ihan shook off the thought, focusing on his ale.

The rich aroma and depth of the barley—it was made with high-quality ingredients, unwatered down, and the flavor was unbeatable. Far better than the beer he’d known in his previous life.

“The kingdom really knows how to make ale.”

Properly aged in oak barrels, the ale was exceptional.

“I guess I prefer ale over lager.”

Though it wasn’t as refreshing as lager, the subtle fruitiness in the ale was more to Ihan’s taste. Either way, it was worth the money.

“Aren’t you overdoing it? The third-floor lounge costs quite a bit, and the dishes aren’t cheap either….”

“But it’s worth it. It’s quiet, and the food is good.”

Unlike the cheaper first and second floors, the third floor cost more but delivered quality. If they’d been drinking on the lower floors, they’d be stuck with lukewarm, watered-down beer. Better to spend a bit for quality.

“There are two things I never skimp on: equipment and food. So eat up. Today’s on me.”

“…Thank you.”

“No need to thank me—I’m buying because I appreciate you.”

“Haha…”

Derek laughed awkwardly. He knew this was Ihan’s way of thanking him for preparing the potion, so he couldn’t refuse. Honestly, he wanted nothing more than to head home and sleep.

“…Still, this isn’t bad.”

The food, the atmosphere—it was nice.

In his busy life, rare moments of relaxation like this were a luxury.

“Order whatever you like. My wallet’s full tonight.”

“…Th-then, I’ll get a few more things.”

“Go ahead, go ahead.”

There was a satisfied gaze from Ihan, as if watching Derek enjoy the meal filled him up as well. Derek could sense that Ihan was genuinely grateful to him.

Did he really like the potion that much?

“Heh, I did put in some effort.”

As the one who made the potion, Derek felt both satisfied and slightly embarrassed. He’d only done his best to repay a favor, but—

“Haha.”

Suddenly, Derek felt a chill run down his spine.

“What…what was that?”

The moment his eyes met Ihan’s amused gaze, an indescribable shiver crawled up his back.

His rogue skill, [Danger Sense], was blaring with warnings…!

It was like facing a predator’s gaze, and Derek realized he’d felt something similar once before.

“When…when did I last feel this?”

This wasn’t just gratitude; there was something… sinister behind it.

His mind brought up a memory lurking in the back of his brain.

“Ah.”

He remembered. The last time he’d felt this way.

It was back in his previous life, around the time he’d made sergeant.

“When the chief warrant officer took me out for ribs and asked if I wanted to train as a specialist…?!”

Sweat trickled down Derek’s face.

He suddenly felt as if he’d walked willingly into the jaws of a trap.

“Thank goodness I didn’t drink.”

Relieved, Derek was grateful he hadn’t touched alcohol. He’d barely avoided being swallowed up in what might have been an irreversible situation.

And Ihan, considering whether he could turn So-Shim into a reliable assistant, thought—

“So-Shim’s looking around like he’s planning an escape…tsk, seems he’s onto me.”

Ah, well.

“Sharp kids…always like this.”

The instructor was disappointed.

 

Despite his ulterior motives, the food was undeniably good.

Gambas, tender octopus, roasted beef—dishes of such quality and flavor that it was hard to believe they came from a pub. Still, Ihan stopped at just two glasses of ale, refraining from a third.

Considering his build, he looked like someone who could drain an entire keg, so Derek was curious why he’d stopped.

“Drinking lightly is enough. Besides, without a good drinking partner, two glasses are fine.”

“…Hmm.”

It was a reasonable answer.

Raised in a culture of excessive drinking, Derek made a strange face.

…Seeing Ihan’s unexpectedly moderate behavior, Derek was struck with a thought.

“Could he actually be… not from my hometown?”

Maybe he wasn’t really from the same world. It was a fleeting thought that Derek quickly dismissed, swallowing his musings.

“Why are you eating so timidly? Eat up, eat up.”

“…Ah, yes.”

When Ihan urged him to dig in with that generous manner, Derek reconsidered. Perhaps they were from the same place, after all.

“…No, I’m overthinking it.”

Derek admitted he was reading too much into Ihan’s every action.

He was simply a man who might’ve come from the same place, and with similar “circumstances.” His over-interpretation of trivial gestures was, in a way, a kind of illness.

The illness of [Excess].

“For now, I won’t dwell on it.”

Even if Ihan were from his world, it wouldn’t change their situation. Unless Ihan openly revealed himself, it was best not to overthink it.

He didn’t have the courage to reveal himself first.

He hated that part of his personality.

“Why am I like this?”

Derek sighed in frustration.

“…You’re having fun all by yourself.”

“!?!!”

“Frowning, sighing, and suddenly looking sad… anyone would think you were schizophrenic.”

“N-no, that’s not it!”

“Sure it isn’t. Looking at you now, you’re showing all the signs of early schizophrenia. If it’s serious, let me know, and I’ll knock some sense into you.”

“…Wouldn’t I just die if you hit me that hard?”

“I have confidence in my strength control. I’ll fix just your head.”

“…I’ll just go to the temple if I get schizophrenia.”

Derek was dead serious.

Better to trust a temple than a civilian cure.

“Well, as long as you’re okay. Sometimes, though, talking to someone can help clear your mind. You could always consult your instructor or confide in your girlfriend.”

“L-Lady Karin and I aren’t like that!”

“…I didn’t specifically name anyone?”

“!!?”

“Mm-hmm. Best not to flaunt your love life in front of a single man. My fist might become an instrument of punishment instead of healing.”

“I-it’s really not like that…”

Derek mumbled a halfhearted denial, but Ihan’s disbelief was evident, and his lips curved upward slightly.

Realizing he’d exposed a weak point, Derek couldn’t help but frown.

Then—

“Still, I meant what I said. Having someone to confide in is good if you’re feeling overwhelmed. It’s not great to bottle things up alone.”

“……”

A sincere piece of advice from Ihan.

It wasn’t the kind of advice you’d expect from someone older, but rather from someone who’d lived through similar struggles. Derek could feel that genuine empathy.

It really made him wonder…

“What kind of life did he lead?”

He blinked, finding it odd to be so curious about another person’s past.

 

Meanwhile, oblivious to Derek’s curiosity, Ihan took a sip of water, squinting.

“Guess I can’t come here anymore.”

Sensing the packed presence on the first and second floors, Ihan shook his head.

Someone might think it was just a crowded night, or that he was bothered by the noise. But that wasn’t why he was thinking of switching his regular spot.

“It’s swarming with rats.”

Half of the loud, rowdy crowd downstairs had an unnatural air to them.

From those picking fights with the owner to the ones talking suspiciously loudly—there were far too many of them.

And all of them were paying close attention to his every move.

The saying goes, “The birds hear you by day, the mice by night.”

Literal “mice” listening in.

“…Annoying.”

He had hoped for a genuine conversation with So-Shim tonight. With a few drinks, he’d intended to delve into the nature of this world or perhaps discuss reincarnation and possession.

He’d spent good money on a lounge seat for this purpose…

“Guess I can’t talk freely anywhere now.”

No place would be safe. Not even home. Some information brokers were known to use “mystics” who could listen in through the ears of sparrows or cats.

“Guess fame is scary.”

Ever since Ihan’s reputation had risen, interest in him had grown, leading to attempts by such unsavory characters to investigate.

And he had a good idea of who they were.

The information guild.

And possibly the Guild Consortium itself.

Taptap.

Ihan tapped his fingers on the table, deep in thought. How should he deal with these pests?

“…Should I crush them?”

He’d been needing a real-world test anyway.

As he focused on the feel of the hatchet hidden in his cloak, his senses heightened.

Then—

“…Hm?”

He blinked, caught off guard by a familiar presence.

He wondered if his senses were mistaken, but he wasn’t. His perception rivaled that of a tracking dog, able to detect someone’s scent from three kilometers away.

Mouth agape, Ihan stared as someone who didn’t belong in this pub entered.

“…Revi?”

His eyes widened in shock.

Revi Folt.

Sensing the presence of the top student, Ihan felt uncharacteristically flustered.