Chapter 92

Revised: The first floor of the ruins is almost entirely filled with common enemies. The second floor is, in a sense, the true entrance. And the third floor is where the main event begins.

Amidst the cherry blossoms dancing in the wind, Misaki opened the old diary and read the words of the promise written there.

---

"---You have an unfamiliar face. Did you come on that ship? That's great, tell me about the outside world. I'm Daisho, as you can see, I'm a Ryuhua person. Let's drink to celebrate your arrival. ...Can't drink? Then just eat. There's no one who can't eat."

The man who called himself Daisho said this with an innocent smile. He had short, tied-back, chestnut-brown hair and a slightly droopy-eyed, unusually friendly face. His height was about the same as Zang's. His clothing, with a shoulder wrap, a high collar, and a blue sash hanging from his waist, resembled Mongolian ethnic attire.

Zang's expression didn't change, but he was taken aback by the man's lack of pretense. There weren't many people in Japan who would close the distance so openly.

Franco, standing beside him, quipped, "There are people who can't eat, you know, like this one here."

"What are you talking about? I like to drink and eat."

"…I mean, your attitude is what's hard to swallow."

"I'm just a poor merchant. You, on the other hand, seem to be up to all sorts of things."

Franco shrugged without a word.

His attitude was somewhat softer than when they were in the ruins, now that the job was done.

Daisho turned to Zang and said, "You're not going to dive again, right? Today's on me, come on, let's go."

He smoothly took Zang's arm and pulled him along.

His words were devoid of malice, and the way he closed the distance and took Zang's arm exerted an irresistible force. It wasn't forceful, nor was it weak.

Looking at Franco beside him, he was following silently, and even Yuki, who seemed to be the last hope, was following obediently, perhaps reacting to the word "treat."

It seemed that Yuki had been holding back a lot of frustration, unable to drink as much as he wanted on the ship and unable to cause trouble in the ruins. Azurona, clinging to Yuki's back, was a given.

The fact that Yuki wasn't on guard was the final straw, and Zang relaxed, letting Daisho pull him along.

The White Mist Mountain Ruins have a labyrinth underground and a rocky mountain above ground.

The town carved out of the rock mountain was originally just a village called "Rock Cave" or something similar, but it was gradually developed by the Ryuhua Kingdom and is now known as the ruin city "Rock Cave Street."

The sunset filtering through the windows in the upper part of the Ryuhua side of the wall was gradually fading. In sync with this, the night stalls in one corner of the town began to light up with small lamps.

Ryuhua language and broken foreign languages were flying around. Most of the bustling crowd was Ryuhua people, with about 20% being foreigners.

Zang and the others were led by Daisho to a corner where shabby night stalls lined up, mostly occupied by Ryuhua people.

Daisho called out to a familiar stall among the rows and ordered cheap black liquor and some food, then offered the chairs around the stall to Zang and the others, and sat down himself.

A serving girl soon placed a jug and cups of black liquor on the long table in front of them, and Daisho filled the cups of Franco and Zang.

"---To a strange encounter across the sea."

Daisho and Franco raised their cups slightly, and Zang followed suit.

The two of them drank their cups in one gulp, but Zang, after taking a sip, was taken aback by the strength of the alcohol.

Daisho and Franco poured more from the jug, as if to say, "Help yourself."

"So, can I ask your name?"

"…Kurando. The big one is Yuki, and the small one is Azurona. They're both smart. If you don't want to be bitten or cried at, treat them properly. They won't harm you if you don't do anything to them."

"…Being bitten is tough, but being cried at might get me banned."

Daisho's gaze was on Azurona.

She was already unconsciously charming the serving girl, who had given her a piece of grilled meat, and her cheeks were puffed out.

If she made Azurona cry in this state, who knows what the serving girl might do.

"Is your wallet okay?"

Zang's gaze was on Yuki, who was already chomping on a piece of meat.

Daisho was surprised, as they hadn't ordered anything.

"…Ah, yes. But how…"

"It's his tail. He has a bad habit with it."

Yuki, who had devoured a piece of meat in one bite, was hitting Zang with his tail while glaring at him, but he was staring intently at Daisho.

He stared.

He stared intently.

Whether he was trying to say something or not, it was unclear if this was a good thing or a bad thing. Daisho, thinking this, answered.

"…Order whatever you like."

---Gurrr

Yuki let out a sound of gratitude and stuck his head into the narrow entrance of the stall.

The old shopkeeper, who had let out a small scream when Yuki first ordered a piece of meat, seemed to have gotten used to it and showed no signs of panic.

Yuki pointed to a pot the old shopkeeper was making with his long tail. It contained a large piece of meat fried in oil and covered with sweet and sour sauce.

"Ah, that one? It's for another customer, so it will take a little time, is that okay?"

---Gurrr

The tail then pointed to the jug of black liquor.

"Alright, take it."

Yuki happily wrapped his tail around the jug and pulled it out of the stall.

He then started gulping down the black liquor that Zang had only sipped.

Daisho, who had watched the whole scene, turned to Zang with a look of not knowing what to make of it.

When Zang said it was usual, he thought for a while but then realized it was a waste of time and started talking about something else.

"You look like a white person, but are you a martial artist, or an explorer?"

In the Ryuhua Kingdom, where there were no Hunter Association, Explorer Guild, or Mercenary Mediation Union, hunters, explorers, and mercenaries were all called martial artists.

Zang nodded and asked, "Is explorer fine?"

"---I'm a poor merchant who travels the border. I came here recently to see if there was any business, but it's not easy to find. …That's the official story, but I'm just interested in the outside world and like to listen to all sorts of people here. Can you tell me anything?"

"…Well, what can I say…"

"---Why did you come here?"

"---Hey, Daisho, you brought something incredible!"

Before Daisho could finish his sentence, the surroundings had become noisy.

A pig-like beastman wearing armor that looked like crocodile skin appeared, interrupting Daisho's words. Unlike the leather armor of the Mid Continent, this armor had flat shoulder guards that covered the upper arms, and studs were hammered into various parts of it.

The man pulled a nearby chair and sat down roughly, but his eyes were wary of Yuki.

"Don't worry, he's smarter than Old Gaizhen and seems to be a good drinker."

"Damn you!"

The pig-like beastman, called Gaizhen, slammed his fist on the long table.

"---What do you mean, better at drinking than me!"

"…That's the point."

Daisho laughed.

"It's harder to find someone dumber than this guy."

"Sure, he's a good drinker, but his head is on par with a kid's."

"Right, right."

The middle-aged martial artists who had gathered around chimed in, but Gaizhen, admitting it himself, burst into a loud laugh.

More martial artists, merchants, and porters appeared, calling out to Daisho and sometimes joining the circle. Most of them didn't look particularly wealthy, but Daisho was chatting happily. Before long, he had become the center of a drinking party.

Zang watched the scene, still on guard, and had only taken one sip of the drink, picking at the food. It was a mix of wariness towards strangers and just shyness.

Sensing Zang's nature, Daisho didn't try to engage him. If he approached now, the others would also start to bother Zang.

Then, the pig-like beastman martial artist Gaizhen, who had been sitting alone, approached Zang.

"---Drink up."

He filled Zang's empty cup to the brim. It seemed Gaizhen was trying to be considerate since Zang was with Daisho.

Zang took a sip of the black liquor, just enough to wet his lips, and placed the cup back on the table with a soft click.

Gaizhen looked dissatisfied.

"…Can't drink?"

"Can't drink. I'm not very good with alcohol."

Although they understood the words, the meaning seemed to be lost on Gaizhen, who glared at Zang with bloodshot eyes.

The black liquor was strong.

Stronger than the distilled liquor Zang had drunk in Elrodania. The strength of the alcohol and the bitterness that lingered on the tongue made his eyebrows furrow after just one sip.

But the first cup of alcohol offered by an elder had to be finished. If he couldn't drink it, he should have placed the empty cup upside down.

In the Ryuhua culture, when drinking in a group, it was customary to enjoy and encourage each other to drink. This was even more so when the alcohol was offered by an elder.

Zang, of course, had no idea about such customs.

"---Calm down, old man. Kurando just arrived today and doesn't know the customs here."

Daisho, who had been chatting with the men, sensed the tense atmosphere and stepped in.

"Today? I don't care, this is Ryuhua. If you can't follow Ryuhua customs, go back!"

Gaizhen was getting angry.

Part of it was due to his species' tendency to be quick-tempered, but it was also a common sight in the White Mist Mountain Ruins, a result of cultural friction.

"…I see."

Without even looking back at Gaizhen, Zang tried to stand up.

He was uncomfortable with the half-lidded, drunken gaze but didn't feel threatened. However, there was no reason to provoke or stay.

But in the end, he didn't stand up. There was no need to.

---A long tail had snatched a cup from the table and drained it.

Yuki then thrust the empty cup at Gaizhen.

More.

Even if the words weren't understood, the meaning of the gesture was clear to any drinker.

Gaizhen, forgetting his wariness of the large magical beast Yuki, poured more alcohol into the cup he was offered.

But the cup was gently placed back on the table, and Yuki snatched the jug from Gaizhen's hand and drained it in one go.

Yuki's throat made a loud, ominous sound as it swallowed the black liquor. It was as if he was swallowing a bird or a rabbit whole.

Everyone stared at Yuki, who looked more like a painting than a real magical beast.

Drinking a jug of black liquor in one go was not an easy feat.

*Burp*

After finishing the jug, Yuki glared provocatively at Gaizhen.

Gaizhen, having forgotten about Zang, shouted.

"---Hey, old man, more alcohol, the whole jug!"

The serving girl, reading the situation, quickly brought more black liquor.

Gaizhen snatched it roughly, glared at Yuki, and drank from the jug.

The large martial artist Gaizhen, with black liquor spilling from the corners of his mouth, swallowed the alcohol.

He let the jug fall from his mouth, spilling more black liquor.

He then gave Yuki a provocative smile and collapsed, pulling the table and chairs with him, his face red from the alcohol.

"Don't lose to a monster, man."

"Really smart. Comparing him to Gaizhen is a mistake."

"Alright, let's drink, let's drink."

The men didn't seem to care, and after dragging Gaizhen's legs to a dark corner, they put the table and chairs back and resumed drinking, including Yuki, as if nothing had happened.

"Sorry, really sorry. Old man has a bad drinking habit and a short temper."

Daisho apologized for not stepping in sooner.

"…Don't worry about it. It's just a difference in habits, it happens to everyone."

Zang, having traveled to various regions, had become accustomed to such situations. He no longer tried to conform to every custom, nor did he hold grudges over them.

Unconsciously, he was starting to take an interest in this man, Daisho.

"Got it. …By the way, can I ask why you came to this country?"

"I'm planning to go to Sauran. …I want to see the desert."

"Really? So you'll be staying for a while. Still, a desert. There's one in the eastern part of Ryuhua, but outsiders can't enter. You speak Ryuhua, so are you related to the residential area?"

It was a probing question, but Daisho didn't seem to have any ulterior motives. He was just asking out of pure curiosity.

Zang also realized that Daisho was speaking in Ryuhua, not Yurifranz. The translation ability made the meaning clear, so he didn't notice the change in language until now. It was a testament to how fluent Daisho's Yurifranz was.

"Just a…former refugee. Got lucky and got a proper ID, became a hunter and then an explorer. Thanks to Yuki, I don't have to worry about food, so I had time to study. You're pretty good at Yurifranz too."

Zang decided to tell the truth, as he found it troublesome to be probed.

But Daisho, hearing the word "refugee," showed no reaction and replied.

"Spending a lot of time here, pestering Franco and other explorers with questions—"

"---Hey, what are you chatting about? You drink too!"

Daisho's words were cut off, and he was dragged away by the middle-aged men. Yuki was there, drinking and eating silently.

Zang watched Daisho go, pretending not to care.

Under the dim lanterns, Daisho and the men were telling silly stories, Yuki was competing in drinking with the drunkards, and Azurona was happily eating the snacks on the table. Occasionally, a serving girl or a martial artist would pet her mane and feed her.

Zang always thought it was comforting to see Yuki and Azurona being accepted. It wasn't enough for just him to fit into human society.

When Yuki and Azurona were accepted, it marked the beginning of their integration into that society. The moment that "beginning" started was always a thrilling one, no matter how many times he saw it.

Zang watched the scene from the outside, enjoying it.

The surrounding noise, the warm night breeze that blew in and out, the smell of burnt soy sauce and fried oil, none of it was unpleasant. It reminded him of the hot summer nights in Japan when he would watch a festival and get drunk alone, evoking a sense of nostalgia.

Then, he heard something.

A smooth, stretched sound, like a string being plucked.

Zang, lost in a light drunkenness and nostalgia, perked up his ears to the sound.

The wind was blowing.

An endless blue sky stretched out, swaying the green grass.

In the space between the sky and the earth, a single horse was galloping.

Galloping, galloping, galloping.