Night—
Morg drove the carriage slowly into the quiet border city.
Even the night watch soldiers had disappeared to who knows where at this hour.
This gave the carriage, carrying the top combat power of the demon race, an opportunity—an opportunity to avoid any conflict.
“Whew~ We're in luck. Those soldiers have probably gone off somewhere to look for their so-called ‘fun’ again.”
In this dark city, a few dim streetlights were still scattered about.
The carriage stopped in front of a building with a sign depicting a worn-out beer bottle.
“Please wait in the carriage for a bit, everyone. I will handle what comes next.”
With that, Morg climbed down from the carriage and walked into the dimly lit, two-story tavern.
Ding, ring-ring-ring—
The bell hanging at the tavern door rang, and Morg walked straight up to the bar counter.
“Tavern keeper, lodging.”
Hearing this familiar voice, the tavern keeper glanced out of the corner of his eye at the person walking in.
“It is already late at night, Chief Morg.”
As the tavern keeper spoke, he remained sitting behind the counter with his legs crossed, continuously wiping a cup that was already spotless, completely failing to treat the incoming Morg as an actual customer.
Seeing that the tavern keeper couldn't be bothered to attend to him, Morg took a few gold coins circulating in Camillaya out of his coat.
“Take the money and do your job. Cut the chatter.”
Morg pushed the gold coins toward the tavern keeper.
“Lodging.”
Under the tavern's dim lighting, the gold coins gleamed with a peculiar luster, practically dazzling.
When the tavern keeper saw Morg pull out the gold coins, a look of astonishment flashed through his eyes.
Looking at those coins, which were worth dozens of...
No, under the current circumstances, it was more like hundreds of years of his tavern's revenue.
The tavern keeper stared at the gold coins pushed in front of him, his eyes quickly darting to the cloaked old man standing before the bar.
Even if the chief of a poor border village were incredibly corrupt, there was no way he could produce so many gold coins at once, so...
It seemed the guests he was hosting today had a very unusual status.
But, if he took these gold coins...
A smile spreading across his face, the tavern keeper swiftly swept the gold coins into his robes.
“Fine, fine. You know the rules.”
“Take the money, do the job. No questions, no prying, no knowing.”
“The rooms on the second floor are all empty tonight. Take your pick.”
Having said that, the tavern keeper reached out and quickly pulled a small cord behind the bar. As he let go, a thick cloth immediately draped over the bar counter. His movements were practiced; it was clear this was not the first time he had done such a thing.
Morg stood before the bar, staring at the dark shadow of the tavern keeper, who was still wiping the cup inside.
“...”
“Knock, knock.”
“These gold coins aren't for you to hide behind the cloth and spy on us, Charis.”
Morg tapped repeatedly on the wooden counter.
Thud—
As the sound of the cup being set down echoed, the shadow behind the bar stood up.
“Alright, alright. I'll make myself scarce for a bit, okay?”
Charis's shadow scratched his head, feeling helpless at Morg's extreme caution this time.
Just what kind of people were they that required such trouble, where even pulling down the black cloth wasn't enough?
Click.
Thump.
“You can let your big shots in now, right?”
After the sound of a door opening and closing echoed from behind the black cloth, the tavern keeper's voice began to fade.
Watching the shadow retreat into the back room, Morg finally turned around to look at the carriage parked outside.
But before the old chief walked out, he glanced back at the faint light still glowing behind the bar.
“...”
By the time Morg returned to the carriage, several pairs of glowing eyes, brimming with murderous intent, locked onto the person lifting the curtain.
Feeling the suffocating aura of death washing over him, Morg took deep breaths to calm himself down.
The pressure radiating from the group in the carriage came quickly and vanished just as fast.
Otherwise, even though the old chief had weathered many storms on the border, he wouldn't have been able to withstand it.
Once his heart finally settled, Morg fully pulled back the carriage's rear curtain and pointed toward the lit tavern nearby.
“You may go inside now, my lords.”
“But if possible, please keep your voices down when you enter. I beg of you.”
Morg seemed to have some concerns as he looked at Baroque, who was curled up in the corner but still quite massive, and added a reminder.
Baroque also noticed Morg's gaze.
The over two-meter-tall beastkin scratched his light-red cheek.
“I know, I know.”
Under Morg's watchful eyes, Baroque's frame began to shrink, continuing until the towering beastkin was the size of a human male about the same height as Ichikawa.
Crack, crack—
The shrunken Baroque rolled his shoulders, a look of extreme discomfort on his face.
“Ugh, humph.”
Baroque let out a deep sigh.
“Using this form is still so uncomfortable. I feel like my entire body is being suppressed.”
He glanced at the dozing Furni. He really didn't know how this dragon managed to shrink such a massive body into this form.
“Hey! Are you thinking about something incredibly rude right now?!”
Her draconic senses picking up Baroque's gaze, Furni's sleepiness instantly vanished. She snapped her head up and spat a tiny burst of dragon flame at him.
“No one would be interested in a dragon with such a listless face.”
Rebutted by Furni, Baroque immediately turned his head away. This dragon was certainly flattering herself.
He had no idea how a dragon who had lived for so long managed to be even smaller than Samuel.
Could Furni still be a minor?
No way, right?
What Baroque didn't know was that his words had just pierced the heart of a certain Hero.
“I'm truly sorry for ever having thoughts about this dragon. Hehe, hahaha...”
Ichikawa huddled in another corner of the carriage.
While Baroque spoke, the Hero kept glancing at the empty bottle in his hand.
“I really wish I had some alcohol right now. To hell with this damn reality. Just destroy it all, haha.”
“Ahem. Let's head inside first, everyone. After all, given your statuses...”
Seeing Lin Ling fast asleep in the carriage, and the other demons playing around or taking notes, Morg coughed.
Getting these distinguished guests into the tavern was the priority right now.
Their identities made it highly inconvenient for them to be seen in a human city.
Aliviel was the first to step down from the carriage.
“Indeed.”
“Let's head inside first. If we keep fooling around, the sun will be up.”
Aliviel stretched as she stepped down.
At the same time, her heart-tipped succubus tail lightly tapped the ground. The moment it made contact, the entire tavern was completely enveloped in a dark-purple domain.
“What is this?”
Seeing the dark-purple domain appear and disappear, Morg glanced at Aliviel as she walked toward the tavern, his hands at his sides tightening slightly.
“Don't worry, old chief.”
“It's just some magic cast by this succubus to ensure everyone gets a good night's sleep.”
Cecil followed her down from the carriage and explained Aliviel's actions.
After all, casting magic immediately upon dismounting might make someone like Morg, who had never seen such spells, worry that they were launching a terror attack.
“Succubus, next time you act, at least explain yourself to our own people first.”
The moment Cecil stepped off the carriage, he began tidying his wind-mussed hair.
At the same time, he expressed his disdain for Aliviel's unrefined behavior.
Watching the others dismount one by one, Cecil gave a slight bow to Ivelia, who was still inside, and led the group through the tavern doors.
Now, only Lin Ling and Ivelia were left inside the carriage.
Looking at Lin Ling, who was dozing off against her, Ivelia gently lifted her into her arms.
“Mmh...?”
“It's nothing. Go back to sleep.”
Hearing Ivelia's soft voice, Lin Ling shifted her head slightly in her embrace.
As if she had found a comfortable spot, Miss Saintess's breathing grew steady and peaceful.
Feeling Lin Ling's breathing stabilize in her arms, Ivelia glanced at Morg, who had climbed back onto the driver's seat.
The Demon King gave a slight nod to Morg, expressing her gratitude to him for driving the carriage all day.
Morg smiled as he watched this high-status figure nod in acknowledgment.
The big shots of the demon race were surprisingly down-to-earth.
Morg sat on the carriage, watching Ivelia carry the girl in her Holy See Saintess vestments into the tavern. Only then did the old chief, who had driven the carriage all day, finally steer it toward the stables.
“I feel like my fatigue has lessened quite a bit?”
“Haha, probably just my imagination.”
Meanwhile, Ivelia, carrying Lin Ling to the second floor, suddenly paused. She looked down at the trace of magic that had not yet fully dissipated from the girl's hand.
“Thank you for your hard work, old chief...”
Even when half-asleep, Miss Saintess did not forget to thank those who had helped her.
Still, this tavern was quite interesting.
Ivelia's ears twitched.
The tavern keeper's voice from downstairs traveled through the floorboards, clearly reaching her ears...
Rate on N.U.
