“Daddy, did those uncles come to pay today?”
“I'm sorry, Lina. Daddy is useless.”
“But look at this!”
“Wow! What is this?”
“These are our country's gold coins. With this... as long as we have this, we can go find those priests from the Holy See! They'll be able to cure your illness!”
“Really? Will Lina's illness really get better?”
“Yes, definitely.”
“Mm! Lina believes in Daddy.”
...
The voices from downstairs could be heard clear as day by everyone from the carriage.
It was obvious that the old chief had a bit of a selfish motive for bringing them to this tavern.
But clearly, the old chief had underestimated the hearing of the demon race.
Baroque sat on the bed in his room, arms crossed. He had finally dropped the disguise he wore when entering, restoring his towering height of over two meters.
Listening to the words coming from below, it was no wonder the chief had asked him to keep his voice down earlier.
“Our old chief is surprisingly soft-hearted, isn't he?”
Cecil listened to the voices from downstairs and looked up at Baroque, who was now being incredibly cautious even about getting onto the bed. Cecil's tail twitched instinctively.
“Hey, Baroque, isn't it uncomfortable using a transformation spell again?”
Seeing Baroque preparing to use the transformation spell once more, Cecil let his tail drop toward the floor.
But the moment his tail was about to touch the ground, Cecil felt a massive force clamp down on it.
Baroque, who should have been on the bed, instantly appeared behind Cecil and grabbed his tail, preventing Cecil's habitual action without making a single sound.
“Don't disturb the child.”
With that, Baroque let go of Cecil's tail.
But a clear handprint was left on the released scorpion tail.
Seeing that he hadn't controlled his strength properly and had hurt Cecil, Baroque scratched his head.
“Sorry, I didn't hold back enough.”
“Haha, why apologize? If you hadn't stopped me, I'd probably have to pay even more gold coins tomorrow as compensation while watching Furni's pained expression.”
To avoid disturbing anyone else with his tail, Cecil's body glowed with the light of a transformation spell.
“There, now it won't cause any trouble.”
Cecil pulled out a mirror, admiring his still-handsome reflection even without his tail, and casually ran a hand through his hair.
“Yep, even without my signature tail, I'm still as handsome as ever.”
Even with his thick tail gone thanks to the magic, Cecil still maintained his usual smug, punchable attitude.
But from Baroque's perspective, Cecil's brow twitched slightly as he styled his hair.
To be honest, nobody liked using transformation spells because of this very reason—the altered parts of the body always felt deeply uncomfortable.
“It's getting late. We shouldn't disturb others, right?”
Sensing Baroque's gaze, Cecil waved his hand dismissively and lay down on the adjacent bed.
As for why Cecil and Baroque were sharing a room...
The scale of this border tavern simply wasn't large enough to provide a separate room for everyone.
By the time Baroque lay back down on the bed, the commotion downstairs had also quieted down.
Ivelia listened to the silence from below, then glanced at Lin Ling, who was fast asleep on the bed.
If Miss Saintess knew about these things...
With that thought, Ivelia sat by the bedside, watching Lin Ling's peaceful sleeping face.
However, even though it was quiet downstairs, the sound of activity started coming from the stables behind the tavern.
At this hour, there shouldn't be anyone entering a border tavern in the middle of the night besides the old chief who had driven the carriage over there.
Listening to the sounds from the stables, and remembering what Miss Saintess had done before falling asleep, Ivelia watched Lin Ling's sleeping face for a moment longer. Then, she stood up and walked toward the stables.
The stables—
Morg was feeding some hay to the old horse that had carried everyone all day.
“Old partner, looks like it's just you and me again tonight.”
The old chief took it for granted that the rooms in the tavern should be reserved for the important guests in his carriage.
Looking at the haystack in the stable, Morg tested its firmness.
Then, he lay straight down on it.
“The moon is really beautiful tonight.”
Looking at the moonlight shining on him, Morg stretched out his hand. Ever since he delivered those guests from the carriage here, his entire body had felt much lighter.
Perhaps the Goddess had seen him doing the right thing and was rewarding him.
With a smile on his face, Morg slowly closed his eyes.
But just then, a cold voice echoed in front of the stable.
“Are you sleeping here tonight?”
Hearing the voice, which carried the unmistakable aura of a ruler, Morg opened his eyes.
There stood Ivelia, her eyes glowing with a faint purple light as she stared down at him lying on the haystack.
“Why are you here, my lord?”
“Aren't there not enough rooms on the second floor? Naturally, they should be left for you all,” Morg explained. He knew exactly how many rooms were on the second floor, and those rooms should rightfully be reserved for these esteemed guests.
“There is a room for you on the second floor.”
Ivelia's voice brooked no refusal. Using her magic, she delivered the key to the last vacant room on the second floor into the old man's hands.
“I couldn't possibly! I couldn't!”
Morg hurriedly held the key in both hands, trying to offer it back to Ivelia.
“I said, take it.”
The purple light in Ivelia's eyes flared, and an overbearing pressure instantly weighed down on the old man.
“She cannot bear to see one of her own people without a decent place to stay.”
“If you want to wake up tomorrow with a body full of aches and ruin her kind intentions, then by all means, keep sleeping here.”
Having said her piece, Ivelia turned and walked away without sparing another glance at Morg, who was still holding the key.
Morg looked at the key left in his hand, then at the light still shining from the front of the tavern. His grip on the key tightened.
“Fine, I shouldn't let that girl's kindness go to waste.”
The old man scratched his head, feeling caught in a dilemma.
Even if he went to return the key, it would only put Charis in a difficult position. Morg clenched the key in his hand.
He glanced up at the dark second floor.
No wonder his body had suddenly felt so light earlier. It seemed an envoy of the Goddess really had rewarded him.
And the only one who could make this supreme figure act as her messenger must be the girl she had been carrying in her arms.
Hmph. A Holy See clergy member supported by the demon race, yet she was far more considerate of others than the Holy See clergy on the border.
How ironic.
Morg walked into the tavern. He shook his head when he saw Charis behind the bar, repeatedly pulling out the gold coins to verify them, his hands trembling with excitement.
This fellow's daughter was probably saved.
Morg went up to the second floor. Seeing a bit of dust in the room, he could tell the guy downstairs hadn't cleaned these rooms in quite some time.
But at least it was more comfortable than sleeping in the stables.
Lying on the bed, Morg closed his eyes, but his mind was filled with the image of Charis looking at the coins with that fanatical expression.
The guy downstairs hadn't always been such a money-obsessed, pathetic coward...
Rate on N.U.
