I remember feeling my mood slightly lift when I found myself alone in the office on a holiday shift.
It’s something indescribable, a sense of being removed from the everyday that elevates one’s spirits. Ah, I’m doing something different right now in a place that’s usually the same—it’s genuinely enjoyable.
“Wow, this is delicious… ”
And so, here I am, privately celebrating in the absence of my employer’s gaze, reveling wildly in my own private revelry.
I tried arranging the meal myself, maintaining the noble dining style, playing make-believe as a servant with the <Invisible Hand>. Sitting at the head of the table, I indulged in the pretense of being an aristocrat.
This inn, catering to the nobility, and the finest room, naturally offered a high-quality meal. Even a simple evening menu was nothing short of a marvel. The vegetables in the appetizer were all fresh and crisp. The meat used in the salted-meat stew was brined not for preservation but for an exquisite taste enhancement. The bird stew was cooked with such care that any commoner would find the fuel cost wasteful—it was that meticulous. And the dessert, of all things, was a Frankfurt Crown.
Here, the cakes known as Western floral wreaths were premium goods reserved for the aristocracy. I’ve only had the chance to taste them on a few occasions. It was during one of Eliza’s table manners practice sessions, savoring food meant for the nobility, that she particularly took a liking to it. The moment she took a bite, she discarded all pretense of etiquette, rising from her chair to insist, “Brother, you have to try this; it’s delicious!”
This marked the beginning, and each following time, she would share it with me. But who would have thought I’d end up eating it alone? Eating all this by myself feels somewhat lonely, so tomorrow I’ll ask Lady Agrippina to package some of these inn delicacies as gifts. It’s not as though we’ll be staying here anyway, so I’ll just have her take it back with her when we leave.
It will likely come with a hefty price tag for the packaging, but thankfully, I have a bit of spare cash on hand today. I owe my thanks to the brigands who saw fit to contribute.
Paying for sweets with silver coins might seem laughable to some, but in a world lacking intense sweetness, they taste absolutely divine. So much so that even the part of my brain that whispered, “Isn’t this a modern delicacy?” quickly silenced itself with a double peace sign.
Now, after eating at an inn, it’s customary to head to the bath. And unsurprisingly, even in a room designed for the nobility, there wouldn’t be a lack of a private bath. A boiler heats the water for an indoor bath.
The circular stone bath and tiled washing area are modest by modern standards, but the luxury of being able to bathe at home, so to speak, is truly fit for kings and queens. Stretching your legs and indulging in the exclusivity of a private soak—what a luxury! And if you ask for essential oils and floating petals, it would be unthinkable not to indulge, wouldn’t it?
I indulged far too long in the soothing chamomile, losing track of time. It had been a while since I’d been able to immerse myself so leisurely. Normally, it would be well past time for bed.
I was contemplating getting out when my <Presence Detection> reacted.
A faint human presence. Concealing their intent, moving silently, this wasn’t from any of the inn’s staff.
After all, it’s unimaginable for staff to enter a room after hours—unless the customer pulls the bell cord. They respect the privacy of the nobility as a matter of protocol.
And so, with a sigh, I understood. Of course.
“Charlotte?”
“Yes, my dear, you called?”
As I stepped out of the bath, calling for Charlotte, the palm-sized fairy appeared with all the casualness of someone who had been waiting for me. She spun happily around me, evidently in great spirits.
“Could you help dry me off?”
“Sure thing! And I’ll style your hair, too!”
With that, she gently circled me, scattering green phosphorescence like a magical spell that distorted the air. And just like that, the water fell from my body, leaving not a trace, and my damp hair quickly dried into soft curls.
Then, a few strands lifted on their own, weaving instantly into braids, with the rest of my hair neatly gathered. The blow-dry task that would usually take at least thirty minutes was handled in an instant thanks to the fairy’s grace.
“Hmm, your hair always smells so nice!”
Her reward was permission to play with my freshly styled hair. I understand her joy, so let her have her fun. Think of it like jumping into a freshly aired bed.
Dressed quickly and taking up the weapon that had been nearby even while bathing, I noticed the sound of rustling fabric. Six distinct presences were closing in.
So, they’re back, attempting to surprise me while I’m most vulnerable. A sentry armed and ready would be guarding guests’ secrets at an inn known for discretion. Breaking through that level of vigilance would imply they’re extremely skilled.
Unfortunately for them, the intended target has already retired to the workshop in the Imperial Capital.
Still, the timing was bad, to say the least.
Actually, I had predicted such an outcome. The reason my acquaintance left earlier with a half-smile wasn’t simply because the workshop was more comfortable for a rest.
I had initially planned to sleep elsewhere. Since larger inns typically have smaller side establishments catered for side servants or guards, I aimed to reside there to better avoid nighttime attacks.
However, with such a delicious meal and a complimentary bath…
My greedy decision to indulge resulted in a repeat middle-level skirmish. Ah, but really, I wanted to bathe because of my earlier escapades, and wasting good food feels wrong. What can one do?
Some things are simply beyond control. I hid my presence and positioned myself beside the main entrance. As anticipated, the locked door clicked open quietly after a brief moment.
Lockpicking or magic? The lock, while moderately complex for an inn of this class—Lady Agrippina hadn’t used magic locks this time—it appears they’ve sent another skilled intruder once more.
The door slowly opened further, and after a short pause, they slipped inside—one, two, three… Keeping to the walls, I let them all enter. As they did, I slipped out silently through the gap.
I couldn’t afford to expend energy sweating after the bath. I figure the results are already sufficient?
“Thank you, Ursula.”
“You’re welcome, my dear.”
Emerging from the corridor a distance apart, I silently thanked Ursula for her stealthy assistance. Alone, I could never have concealed my presence so effectively. But in the realm of night, under the cover of darkness, the help of a Night Fairy changes everything.
“What would you like as a thank you?”
“Well, how about dancing a song under the beautiful moon next time?”
Not in the fearsome sense that you imagine, right?” She whispered, and the brunette dissolved into the night.
Ah, she’s making sweet requests. Though I could easily say yes to something like this, I’ve learned not to let my guard down since the occasional serious suggestions are truly dangerous.
So, they’re professionals; perhaps realizing the target is absent, they will quietly retreat without causing any unnecessary trouble. I haven’t left anything of value behind—likely just some of my belongings. Rather than fabricate a theft, it’s less trouble for everyone if they just leave, so that’s what I anticipate.
I apologize for making them go through this effort. Such events will surely become more frequent; it’s unlikely our accommodations, whether at an inn or a mansion, would ever see actual overnight stays.
Finding myself without a bed to sleep in, I must now find a new one. As it is late, arranging a room may be difficult, so renting a stable will have to do. There’s nothing unusual about this—it fits the adventurer’s stereotype. And, oddly, it’s raising my spirits!
With that, as I prepare to head to the inn, the <Presence Detection> reacts faintly again… and a single wave of killing intent.
Dull but intense, the kind that clings, made my body react as though it had been struck with sudden force. I leapt back with all my strength, utilizing <Hand of Magic> to propel myself further and farther left with an immediate follow-up.
The first strike was a forceful swing, tearing through the air. Hardly after dodging, a secondary attack came swiftly—a long dagger-like knife thrown with deadly precision. Had I felt secure after evading the first, I certainly would have met with disaster. While small, being struck would be unbearable. I’m your average person—I don’t fancy fighting with knives embedded in my limbs.
Something attacked me in a swooping arc, which I narrowly blocked with a “Sending Wolf,” borrowing its momentum to create distance. If I manage to dodge or defend, I know the enemy will likely close the gap quickly—how irksome my actions are.
Without jesting, I swiftly reengaged my sword held conveniently with the assistance of both my hip and wrist supports. Now properly wielding the blade, I turned to face the assailant.
The adversary before me was difficult to describe appropriately at first glance.
A hooded cloak hid their upper silhouette, yet from beneath it grew an unnaturally long torso—one distinctly inhuman. The insectoid exoskeleton of their thin, ground-treading legs gave them away as a subhuman of the insect species.
Is it a centipede or a millipede?
The figure’s identity was obscured, showing no visible gender, and wielded an exceptionally long staff. The weapon swung gracefully with the same fluidity as the serpentine body of its owner, sizing me up after observing my first successful defense.
At once, I perceived the opponent to be highly “difficult.”
The slender hands were extraordinarily long for a humanoid to wield; the staff stretched longer than humans could conveniently handle, and the most significant factor was…
“Uh…!?”
The impossible-to-gauge movements of its many jointed legs!
With multiple legs to maneuver, predicting its movement was incredibly difficult. Unlike bipeds, where watching the feet and chest would usually clue you in on their target, the motion here betrayed no such clues.
The opponent approached with no large, noticeable actions, moving forward or sideways with unpredictable precision. The peculiar approach made it hard to keep distance without being outmaneuvered. What’s more troubling is their towering posture, which leveraged the staff in powerful overhead sweeps.
The brute strength was also extraordinary. A regular soldier’s formation would be easily scattered by such a monstrous force.
Cursing my misstep in underestimating their backup plan, they certainly have something wicked hidden up their sleeve!
The staff wielder moved with speed and with perfect precision. The compact circular motions displayed no clumsiness regardless of their dynamic swings. With movements impossible for bipeds, they executed precise footwork that erased every trace of weakness.
A perfectly honed technique. Their use of their species’ unique strengths in combat was impeccable—I would request to borrow their character sheet for a future reference if this were a game.
Their accuracy was impeccable. The lament of bipedal warriors is the body’s fluctuation before taking a final step—and this assailant capitalized on that exact moment with deadly swings targeted at the most vulnerable spots, making their strikes accurate and terrifying.
The assassin could have held a more illustrious title; their techniques were nothing short of masterful.
Attacks using centrifugal force packed enough punch to repel any half-hearted defenses, pushing me to dodge and gauge timing. Clutching the sword in both hands, I swung it backwards and managed to deflect the overhead strike gracefully. The same method applied effectively when dealing with spears remained just as useful against a staff.
I felt as though I’d executed it perfectly. I could tell the covered face within the hood was shocked—surely, they hadn’t anticipated the strike to be deflected.
Time for a counterattack. Though the long weapon excels at reach, it suffers when the opponent manages to close in.
What’s more, the multi-segmented legs may provide flexibility, but they’re not snake-like enough to swing forward offensively. The backward retreat speed, while admirable, isn’t fast enough for me to not keep up.
If it comes down to neutralizing them, cutting off a thumb will likely do the trick—just as I thought that, a chilling sensation ran down my neck.
I raised the “Sending Wolf” quickly to defend, producing a loud metallic ring as something bounced off it. At the same moment, a dull ache in my abdomen followed—the projectile was a throwing knife coated with ash to remain inconspicuous in the dark. And there, beneath the cloak—a second pair of arms.
Damn, I overlooked that.
Recalling now, it makes sense. The initial ambush included a swing with the staff and a thrown knife in the same motion. A weapon that requires two hands to wield would naturally benefit from an additional arm.
Good thing I wore the mail coat underneath. Predicting the attack had me forego the boiled leather armor, but at least the chainmail was intact.
Yes, despite its ability to reduce damage significantly, I still feel a deep aching—proof of the armor’s value.
Metal chunks hurled with such might naturally cause pain. Returning the favor with my Sending Wolf, the assassin struggled to block with the staff, pulling out a dagger with a hidden arm to counterstrike. Knowing this, I decided that each attack warrants a response, and acted accordingly.
Besides, I have a hidden trick up my sleeve.
I kept retreating, maintaining the optimal distance as the assailant pressed forward. I triggered <Invisible Hands> to draw a catalyst tucked in the hem of my skirt, quickly applying <Flash and Thunder> to the figure. As they stumbled from the unforeseen attack, the staff swung wildly under the chaos. Quickly capitalizing, I grabbed a crossbow hidden inside the cloak.
Indeed, it was the one picked up during the day’s skirmish. Though the mechanism looked fiddly when broken and not ideal for rapid reloading, its compact size and utility for surprise attacks were appealing. To wield it required acquiring a new skill—<Crossbow Mastery>—since <Short Bow Mastery> wouldn’t suffice—but at such close range for surprise attacks, <Basics> was more than enough.
Leveraging it after either blocking an attack or executing a magic maneuver would be a clever and unexpected tactic, wouldn’t it?
With the cloak fluttering, an unobstructed sightline opened, and I pulled the trigger. The high-pitched ring of the string and the piercing sound of the bolt slicing the air signaled the strike as the assassin staggered.
In my heightened perception, the bolt was barely visible as it impaled the assailant’s shoulder. Returning the same trick they tried on me. Not that I consciously thought of it when I decided to do so, I suppose it resembles my old friend’s hunting style. Indeed, her agility for short durations is equally unmatched.
Still, this is frustrating—we’ve lost them. There’s no point chasing after them now; they’ve sustained injuries that would make them even more dangerous. Bringing reinforcements would only provoke a counterattack—I’ll do best to quietly disappear myself.
Besides, I drew too much attention. Even with the minimal destruction, alert minds nearby are stirring. I’d best not run afoul of patrolling officers without official protection. It’s complicated dealing with disturbances where people reside.
At this point, finding accommodation seems unlikely. I’ll just wrap myself in my cloak and find a spot nearby to rest.
A lavish inn stay followed by a sweaty ordeal—such is misfortune.
The recruitment rejection was justified. To accept would mean bracing for attacks like these, year-round, wouldn’t it?
Employing and training subordinates, devising elaborate security plans, only for the unpredictable whims of one’s charge to upend everything. Managing issues from one’s own estate while resolving peasant grievances and ensuring security despite budget constraints—It feels more like a form of punishment.
“Ow, hopefully, there won’t be any bruises.”
Holding my abdomen, I slipped into the forest to hide. Honestly, how many such nights must I endure before this investigation concludes? Even though the experience yields valuable practice, the mercy begs to be exercised. I’m no adrenaline junkie constantly seeking challenges.
Every so often, one craves a peaceful journey. Shivering against the chilly predawn air, I released yet another in a series of countless sighs…
