By Zephyria Ketron, with his own striking appearance, rarely found himself admiring the looks of others.
No matter the beauty, no matter the handsome man. Even when others raved about Saint Laila, claiming love at first sight, he remained unfazed, prompting Augustine to seriously ask, “Ketron, are you perhaps impotent?”
But this innkeeper, well, there was something about him.
When someone first shook him awake, he was consumed by a fierce surge of emotion, a desire to destroy everything.
This continent he had tried so hard to protect, all the people smiling happily, his former companions who had betrayed him. All of it.
But before that rage could truly erupt like lava, this man, the innkeeper, abruptly woke him.
At that moment, Ketron wondered if he had died and gone to heaven, but realizing he was not virtuous enough to warrant such a fate, he understood it was reality.
What was it about this man with a face that shone brilliantly even in stillness?
The man had unceremoniously dragged Ketron into his inn, giving him food and a room. He even brought medicines Ketron had never seen before, claiming he would treat his wounds.
Of course, Ketron paid him no attention and holed himself up in the room. Despite this blatant rejection of his kindness, the man did not kick Ketron out.
Instead, again, just as Ketron was sinking into deep contemplation, the man came to find him, as if perfectly timed.
“What, you were good and didn’t cry?”
…Along with that absurd remark.
In the man’s hands were the yellow milk and medicine he had given him in the morning. Unlike Ketron’s indifference, the milk he held seemed to be glistening with moisture, having grown cold.
Ketron didn’t respond.
Regardless of Ketron’s reaction, the man plopped down in front of Ketron, as if to meet him at eye level, bypassing the perfectly good chair and bed. He seemed surprisingly easygoing for someone who looked like that.
“I can understand you being picky about food, but leaving your wounds untreated just doesn’t sit right with me.”
Picky about food.
Like the previous “baby,” and treating him like a crybaby, the man’s choice of words was peculiar.
“You’re still young, why are you acting like you’ve seen it all? You need to treat your wounds.”
See, young again.
He wasn’t actually that old, but he couldn’t recall ever being treated as young by anyone.
When he was truly young, there were no adults around to do so, and when he grew up, he was strong. Not just vaguely strong, but the strongest in the world, and no one would dare comment on the age of someone hailed as the best.
But the man standing before him casually treated Ketron like a kid. As if he were just an ordinary twenty-year-old.
Ketron’s existence had been forgotten by everyone, so naturally, the man wouldn’t know who he was, but Ketron knew his appearance was quite intimidating to others. Yet, this man showed no hesitation.
“If it’s okay with you, can I take a look at your wounds?”
The man asked so cautiously.
“…”
Ketron didn’t respond.
It wasn’t out of caution towards the man. He had no motivation anyway, and in a situation where he didn’t even know if he would react if someone came to slit his throat, he couldn’t possibly feel wary of a commoner who clearly had never received any training.
He simply had no will.
“…There’s no need for that,” Ketron quietly refused. His lips, which had barely opened since realizing the betrayal, had already parted twice today.
“Why?”
The man asked, looking puzzled.
What should he say? He could just ignore him, but for some reason, Ketron had a feeling that the man would persistently stick around no matter how much he ignored him. Ketron, who had been staring down, slowly opened his mouth.
“I am,”
He continued calmly.
“An existence that can die.”
An existence that could disappear from this world without anyone knowing. Not a metaphor, but literally true. The few who remembered him would probably want him dead.
After the rage that had threatened to erupt this morning was suppressed by the man before him, Ketron realized that a certain emotion that had been filling him was now frozen solid.
There was no longer any fuel to unleash it, nor the will to do so.
Like Ketron’s existence, that emotion had been mostly forgotten within him.
Its form had become so obscured that he couldn’t even tell what it was anymore.
“…”
This time, the man kept his mouth shut.
Anyone would be taken aback if someone they barely knew confessed they had no will to live. Ketron knew this, but he hoped that this statement would make the man lose interest in him.
A stranger, a strange relationship.
Usually, people would get tired of such words and leave, unless they wanted to be deeply involved in someone’s life.
As expected, the man looked dazed, as if he hadn’t expected such a thing.
Ketron quietly closed his eyes. He hoped the man before him would lose interest and leave.
If he did, he would leave this place once he had sorted out his feelings and never return.
However, what he heard was not the sound of the door closing as he had hoped.
A pop sound. It sounded like something thin being easily pierced. Ketron reflexively opened his eyes and saw the man sticking a thin straw into the milk carton.
The man held it out to Ketron.
For a moment, Ketron didn’t understand what it meant and simply stared blankly at the straw being held out to him.
“Drink.”
The man said with a firmness Ketron had never seen before.
“It’s not poisoned, so you can drink it. Even if it were poisoned, you said you could die, right? Then you can drink it. It’s sweet and makes you feel good.”
The straw reached Ketron’s chin. Ketron, who had never reacted even when swords or arrows meant to kill him grazed his chin, flinched as if the soft straw was a great threat.
The man finally put the straw to Ketron’s lips. Ketron was genuinely flustered by the lukewarm plastic straw invading his lips.
“Just suck it in.”
He even kindly explained how to do it. Ketron, without realizing he was being swept up by the man’s momentum, unknowingly sucked on the straw that had entered his lips.
The transparent straw filled with yellow liquid, and the liquid was sucked into Ketron’s mouth.
“!”
Ketron, startled by the cold, sweet, and heavy taste he had never experienced before, immediately pulled away. As a result, the lost liquid dripped down Ketron’s chin.
“Oops.”
The man said playfully, wiping Ketron’s chin with his hand. The yellow liquid stained the man’s fingertips.
For some reason, it made Ketron feel confused, as if he were a child who had clumsily spilled something, just as the man had said.
“It’s a waste to spill something so precious. They don’t even sell this, you know?”
Here.
The man held out the straw again.
“…”
He had reflexively put it in his mouth the first time, but now Ketron knew what the straw did. He also knew what the taste of what would enter his mouth was like.
If anyone else had done this, Ketron would have immediately knocked the yellow carton away with a cold expression.
But for some reason, he couldn’t do that now.
From the time he opened his eyes until he came to the Empire, he had sold almost everything he owned except for the Sacred Sword to raise the money he needed to travel.
People paid no attention to the young man with the desolate expression. They just received what they were owed and gave what was due.
The man before him was the first to show kindness without any compensation.
Ketron wasn’t so sentimental that he would be moved by small acts of kindness even in such a moment.
But he didn’t want to spit on the face that was smiling so brightly, as if he knew Ketron would drink it. He didn’t want to hurt the soft, clean hands that had never held a sword.
In the end, Ketron, who had been hesitating, put the straw back in his mouth. Having done it once, it wasn’t difficult to suck it in, and the yellow liquid flowed into his mouth through the straw.
Cold, heavy, and.
“Sweet, right?”
The man asked with a smile. No, it was a question, but it wasn’t a question. It was the tone of someone who was certain.
Like the man’s words, it was sweet. The heavy, sweet taste filled his mouth. Like someone who had found an oasis in a desert, Ketron unknowingly sucked it down mindlessly. Like a child, as the man had said.
“The only ones who deserve to die in this world are those who have committed a mortal sin. Have you committed a sin?”
Ketron couldn’t answer because he was still sucking on the liquid, so he shook his head instead.
A sin. He was a man who carried too much on his shoulders. He didn’t always use gentle methods, but at the end of it all, there was always the justice he had to protect.
The man smiled faintly, as if he had expected it.
“Then live. Life isn’t a big deal, and even if bad things happen sometimes, good things happen just as much, so we live.”
“…”
“You’re so young.”
When he said that, he stroked Ketron’s head as if he were a younger sibling.
“You have plenty of time.”
Gurgle.
At that moment, a loud noise came from the milk carton. The two men’s gazes naturally turned to the milk carton. The milk carton, which had been shining yellow thanks to the yellow liquid inside, had emptied itself and become transparent. Ketron had drunk it all.
Ketron felt embarrassed for some reason and froze like a stone with the straw in his mouth.
“How is it?”
The man asked in a casual voice. Ketron didn’t understand what the question was about for a moment. Was he asking about what the man had said, or about this unknown milk?
Before long, Ketron realized it was the latter. He answered honestly without realizing it.
“It’s sweet.”
“See, it’s delicious, right?”
The man smiled proudly, as if he had been praised.
The man’s question, asking with certainty if it was delicious, sounded like, “See, it’s a good thing, right?” At least, that’s how it sounded to Ketron.
A good thing, huh.
Ketron thought for a moment. The question that had entered his mind, which hadn’t had room for such things, quickly spat out the answer.
It seemed like a good thing.
At least, it was the best thing that had happened in the past month.