With a delighted expression, the blonde introduced the young spider-woman standing by his side.
“She is my childhood friend and the partner I trust the most.”
“Nice to meet you again, sorcerer. My name is Margit of Königsschütze. Lately, I’ve also been called ‘Silent One,’ ‘Backpack,’ and ‘Guardian Blade.’ It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
With a charming smile, she lifted the hem of her skirt and performed an elegant curtsey. She was renowned in the saga as the ever-loving hunting partner of the golden-haired adventurer, and sometimes even ballads were written about her exploits. Her dazzling smile, which revealed her fangs, and her position guarding behind her companion as if melding into his shadow, were hailed as the perfect embodiment of a golden-haired duo.
Indeed, she had repeatedly thwarted attacks from those seeking fame. An unsuspecting golden-haired figure walking alone would suddenly be struck from behind, but the attackers, reaching for their knives, would find their fingers severed by arrows launched from the shadows, robbing them of all honor.
Even snipers hidden in trees or on rooftops met the same fate. Frightened by her sharp swordsmanship, they would stain their hands nefariously, seeking only the fact of her elimination. However, their every move was thwarted by her seductive whisper of “You’ve been a bad boy,” as her short blade mercilessly struck them down. The archers paid the price with their thumbs and index fingers, the very tools of their trade.
All these appropriate nicknames suited her well, for she had protected the golden-haired adventurer from every unjust intent. Despite her fame, few had closely observed her personality or appearance, proving her skill in stealth.
After all, there were always aspiring bards in town, eagerly waiting to hear tales from famous adventurers and immortalize their names.
The sorcerer, only now realizing that he’d been toyed with by such a monster, exhaled a puff of purple smoke and refocused his mind as if attending a salon hosted by the Magic Academy.
The truly terrifying things aren’t visible incantations. Words can be daggers and poison; they glide through unseen malice requiring one to arm oneself accordingly.
With a faint, sweet smile and a song-like voice devoid of true intent:
“Thank you kindly. I’m Mika. Please feel at ease. I’ve heard a lot about you from Erich.”
“Oh, have you? I’ve heard many things as well. Every time the topic of sorcerers comes up, he inevitably mentions your name.”
“Dear me.”
“Fufufu.”
From a distance, it appeared to be a gentle exchange between first-time acquaintances. The patrons of the tavern felt the same.
However, those who were more perceptive or familiar with the hunter’s essence felt differently.
Siegfried barely managed to keep from spilling his drink. He knew too well, having often stood closest to the golden-haired adventurer. Whether going out on reconnaissance or proposing to use detected ambushes to their advantage, he always wore that familiar grin. The corners of his mouth would lift, showing his fangs, but his brow was furrowed and his eyes devoid of any semblance of amusement—this was the smile of a hunter eyeing his prey.
Siegfried knew unwillingly, due to always standing next to the golden-haired man. Even when the hunter was watching other women flirt with him, that same expression would appear.
He wanted to leave desperately. He envied his childhood friend, who was probably sleeping soundly in bed at this very moment. Free drinks be damned, this atmosphere was hardly worth anything as beads of oily sweat ran down his forehead.
Meanwhile, the golden-haired man didn’t seem to notice. Though remarkably perceptive to hostility or malice, he was curiously obtuse when it came to these kinds of jibes. Especially with those he trusted and respected, he often became as unresponsive as a wooden puppet.
At the urging, the sorcerer sat at the table, as did the golden-haired man.
“Uh, Erich, this is…”
“Hm? Is something wrong, Mika?”
And there stood the hunter, clinging to the golden-haired man’s neck as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Struggling to keep his cigarette from tilting too much, the sorcerer inquired about this seemingly improper behavior, but for the golden-haired man, it was completely normal, and he took no notice.
For him, having Margit dangling around his neck was as ordinary as wearing his beloved sword at his side. Pointing it out now would make no sense to him.
The hunter removed her hands from his neck, using him as a cushion. Placing her elbows at a conveniently high table, she rested her chin in her hands, looking like an innocent little girl.
If this were not an intentional gesture to display their closeness, it might be seen as such.
At this point, it goes without saying, but the bond between the golden-haired man and the hunter had reached a deep level. They were of marrying age and shared a bed like a single entity. In fact, it might even be unnatural if their relationship hadn’t yet escalated to “romantic” levels.
For a man’s knee to become a perch for a woman was, under the empire’s strict morality codes, a rather explicit suggestion of intimacy. A barmaid wouldn’t dare to straddle a man’s lap so boldly in public.
However, thanks to the deep trust and her adorable nature, this scene wasn’t considered obscene or indecent—it was merely “normal.” There’s a reason why the web-spinning capabilities of the spider people were celebrated so.
Still, some saw opportunity in this and female servers circled around, using the hunter’s favor as an excuse to approach. They weren’t just after tips—some harbored dreams of a night of pleasure with this hero.
Our spider-lady crushed such sweet dreams with ease, leisurely starting her meal with items on the table. The golden-haired man was considerate enough to ask a server to bring wine diluted with honey and water for his alcohol-sensitive childhood friend.
To Siegfried, the sweet wine tasted bitter, and he marveled at the disparity between Yorgos’s earlier introduction and Mika’s current demeanor, especially since no one had noticed her stealthily approaching Erich’s neck.
Though young and relatively unseasoned, even the ogre had fought on battlefields. The hunter’s ability to slip past his senses was impressive indeed. In the ogre’s society, which had limited experience with the opposite sex, this situation was undeniably uncomfortable.
To some, he might even be the happiest person there.
Siegfried, thinking protests could wait till later and wishing to escape, and Yorgos leisurely sipping wine, finding the pair even cuter in person than in poems. Meanwhile, the magician offered the hunter a topic of dried meat, while casually lighting his cigarette, preparing his counterattack.
However, the golden-haired man, oblivious to the atmosphere, spoke up.
“Hey, Mika, you’re smoking something unusual.”
“Huh? Oh, this?”
There, the cigarette quivered between his lips.
In the Threefold Empire, smoking was a pastime of the wealthy middle class, the nobility, or magicians, not widely embraced by common folk. The most common method was through a pipe, savoring it in small, slow puffs. Rolled cigarettes were enjoyed in some areas for their convenience, and water-pipes were also available for more leisurely enjoyment, though pipe smoking remained the mainstream culture.
The golden-haired man was a lover of tobacco, using herbal blends with a sweet scent that helped soothe his throat while masking sweat with a pleasant fragrance. The cigarette Mika was smoking, however, differed significantly in appearance, yet shared a similar sweetness.
“This is made using a master’s special recipe. It helps with mental stability and magical energy.”
“A rolled cigarette? That’s unusual. Did it come from your master?”
“No, I saw it in the imperial capital and thought it was convenient and effective, so I copied it. It isn’t stylish enough for salons, but it’s practical and enjoyable privately, right?”
The delicate puff of purple smoke carried a refreshing citrus scent, a mix of orange sweetness and acidity. The smoke itself was magically treated, leaving a pleasant sensation akin to inhaling fruit juice.
“It’s fine. It looks delicious. Carrying around pipe equipment is a hassle.”
“You don’t have it with you today?”
“Who would’ve guessed it’d be such a delightful day?”
They both chuckled, their cups clinking in shared joy.
Mika had planned to practice with fellow adventurers and spend the evening relaxing. Even adventurers need a regular lifestyle to restore their bodies from their arduous duties.
Lately, the golden-haired adventurer had reduced his workload after gaining higher rank. Due to his earlier legendary exploits despite lower rank, he’d been inundated with exploitations of his services. Learning that his cheap availability caused unnecessary hardship to others, he had become more selective and paced his work better.
Hence, the lack of a pipe. There had been no need since the plan was a light dinner before returning to base.
“Then allow me to offer you one.”
Seeing a friend eyeing the cigarette wistfully, Mika took out a tobacco box and offered one.
“Is that alright?”
“Of course. I can’t guarantee it will suit your taste, but it’s definitely tailored to my liking.”
“Have I ever complained about anything you’ve given me?”
The golden-haired man happily accepted the simple cigarette, wrapped in a tiny paper fragment, delicately handling it like a piece of gold coin before placing it to his lips.
Upon observing this, the hunter’s fine eyebrows knitted with concern.
Despite the golden-haired man’s seemingly relaxed demeanor, he was actually quite cautious. He wouldn’t easily ingest anything from another’s hand and showed maximum alertness against magic-inflicted items. Even if the giver had no ill intent, there was no guarantee no third party had tampered with it. Lately, the hunter had noticed that anything not directly given by her would be secretly inspected for safety.
Yet, seeing the golden-haired man place the cigarette in his mouth without any inspection or hesitation, something felt off. Until now, she believed that unconditional trust was granted solely to family or herself.
This trespass into her sacred domain left her feeling as if she’d received a counterattack, even though no one else noticed it. Who would’ve thought her companion trusted someone else this much?
Without showing any sign of disturbance, the hunter dismounted from her perch, heading to fetch a flame from the nearby lamps. After all, her job and hobby were to take care of this man. Despite his noble upbringing, he was rather lazy with personal matters and had a tendency to be casual where he shouldn’t.
Finding his care amusing, she usually reached into his pocket to retrieve flint and steel to start a fire.
“Hold on, Erich, over here.”
“Hm?”
The sound of the chair shifting. The magician leaned his head towards his friend, indicating the cigarette between his lips.
Understanding, the golden-haired man also leaned, until their cigarette tips touched.
Air was drawn in, creating flow, the heat divided. The primitive, non-filtered cigarette glowed red, smoke curling upwards.
A flame could be borrowed from something already lit. Experienced smokers sometimes playfully transferred fire from one pipe to another; so too could one cigarette light another.
The scene was reminiscent of a kiss, causing onlookers to catch their breath.
There was no physical contact, no exchange of bodily fluids. Yet, something about it strongly communicated their close bond.
The faint crackling of burning paper and air, the mingling of smoke from their lips, turned an ordinary phenomenon into something strangely alluring.
“Ah, this tangy flavor is refreshing too.”
“Good to know you appreciate it.”
Returning to their places, the two shared a laugh. The ogre turned away, feeling as if he’d seen something he shouldn’t. Siegfried, burying his face in his palm, reminisced about his childhood friend to regain his composure.
Amidst the soft cries of awe from the female servers, the hunter, whose presence had been obscured, revealed a rare look.
Rarely, exceptionally rarely, she pouted her cheeks…
…
Bathed in the hazy light of the moon as it waned, the group of golden-haired companions wandered through the streets. Compared to the imperial capital, the city of Marsheim under nightfall sunk deeper into shadows, its vitality dimmed. Occasionally, vulgar laughter or fighting sounds echoed from taverns still open late.
Magic in hand, the magician floated his bags lightly, shivering slightly in the brisk nighttime air despite the slight buzz of alcohol warming his body. Though some drinks remained, responsibilities awaited tomorrow, not to mention budget restraints. Thus, the festivities came to an end. The members of the Sword Friends Association who collapsed from drinking were unceremoniously dumped into their beds by those still standing, and the guests graciously invited earlier began to leave.
Similarly, they too headed back to their lodgings. The only one to separate was the ogre, who had already shouldered several semi-conscious friends and was staying there for the night.
Declining his offer to carry the magician’s burdens as well, the latter sighed lightly.
One win, two losses.
He had succeeded in his retaliation, fully proving to the hunter that not only she but others could guard his back and command his trust.
Yet… knowing one’s strength so well made for a formidable adversary.
Part way to the inn, the golden-haired man cradled the hunter gently, as though she were an infant. His hands rested at her waist and her arachnid rear, walking along thoughtfully. He had taken her wine goblet away, ignoring her protests as she drank herself into a stupor; and now he cherished her as he carried her along.
From this, their bond could be easily perceived as far deeper than it initially seemed.
A heavy final blow indeed.
“Is something troubling you, my friend?”
“Hm…? Nothing really. I’m fine.”
The astute golden-haired man picked up on his companion’s inner turmoil. The magician shook his head, signaling all was well.
“Just the alcohol getting to me. We’ll be there soon, right? No need to worry.”
“That so? One shouldn’t push oneself. If it feels tough, don’t hesitate to speak up.”
In this way, he reassured himself. It wasn’t like it mattered. After all, the golden-haired adventurer had once carried him when he was similarly incapacitated. He’d likely do the same now. Though taller now, he believed that the man’s embrace would still firmly hold him steady.
“Yes… but if it does happen, I’ll ask you.”
“Hey, this is inconvenient to walk in, isn’t it.”
“Surely, borrowing your shoulder wouldn’t hurt.”
“Guess you’re as bad as the rest.”
Then there’s truly nothing to worry about. Though some things had changed, more remained the same. Important things still resided within them. The magician offered a faint smile, looking forward to the enjoyable days to come despite the more difficult tasks ahead.
