Rumors About the Oracle
“It’s on the house!”
“Eat this!”
Complimentary food began making the rounds to each table.
It was some kind of appetizingly fried dish of indeterminate origin. To the questions of “Innkeeper, what is this! What kind of meat is this!” the repeated answer was “If you don’t want to eat it, don’t!” so Ruman decided not to be particularly curious either.
As he tore off a piece of the fried food to taste it, he found it surprisingly decent and popped the whole piece into his mouth.
“Ren. Want to try? It’s good.”
Ruman offered him the fried food he’d taken a small bite of, adding a relaxed smile to indicate it was safe to eat.
Ren, who had been watching Temarr, startled with a jolt at the smell of fried food that suddenly hit his nose, then gave a suspicious look.
“Really. Mmm. It’s good. Everyone’s too drunk to eat, so I feel bad about it.”
“…Really?”
Half-believing, Ren accepted the fried food that Ruman had taken two bites of.
His small mouth chewed the fried food well with a munching motion. The crisp sound was quite appetizing to hear. After thoroughly chewing and swallowing the chewy, stretchy meat, Ren looked up.
Through the gap in his hood pushed back, Ren’s two eyes shadowed by the hat’s brim were visible.
Those two green eyes sparkled so prettily!
Ruman, watching Ren, ended up breaking into a broad smile.
So wide his white teeth were fully exposed. Ren made a puzzled expression at the bright smile he suddenly faced.
“Are you really drunk too, Ruman? I thought Heroes didn’t even get drunk!”
It was a voice full of wonder. Seeing his face more unguarded than usual, Ruman thought he’d done well pretending to be drunk.
Ruman treasured the memory of Ren’s face he’d just seen.
Did Ren know?
How cute his eyes became when they widened and his lips moved as he ate something delicious?
Ruman remembered it all.
That gentle cat-like face Ren made when eating macarons and marshmallows, melting with admiration. A face that looked like it would purr.
When Ruman reached out his hand, Ren didn’t avoid it, perhaps thinking it was a drunk person’s antics. When he carefully touched his soft cheek, Ren casually took Ruman’s hand and removed it from his cheek.
That was similar to the shock he’d felt when he first used his Hero’s power to transmit light.
A heavy impact striking his entire body… It was as if a long spear had split Ruman in half from the crown of his head to the tips of his toes.
Ruman froze at that shock, even forgetting to breathe.
His pale eyelashes spread like a fan trembled.
“Hey, Ruman. Um. Should I… get a blanket? Do you feel like you’re going to throw up??”
The slender fingertips were worn from hardship, but soft and moist… delicate hands that seemed soaked with moisture. The long, pure white fingers placed Ruman’s hand on the table. Clenching his fist to keep from unconsciously gripping tight, Ruman closed his eyes deeply then opened them.
This is dangerous.
Isn’t this dangerous?
He felt like he’d be found out if he exhaled, like he’d be found out no matter what, so Ruman couldn’t exhale. This is driving me crazy. Should I leave?
But he didn’t want to let this moment slip away.
Temarr was now muttering in such a small voice it was barely audible, but Ruman’s ears caught it all.
He was still! repeating ‘Ren, my younger brother.’ Like a broken machine. The man has no middle ground.
But he thought he understood that feeling. No, it was troublesome because he understood it too well.
He himself had no middle ground either.
“Ruman?”
Only after Ren called repeatedly could Ruman quietly exhale. Embarrassed by his hot, warm breath, he covered his mouth with his hand. His heart ached with a tingling sensation. Ren lifted his hood and examined Ruman’s face. The meticulously touching gaze was ticklish.
It hadn’t felt like this even when a blade touched near his heart.
Ruman only blinked silently. Moving his stiffened body with creaking awkwardness, he tried to act nonchalant and laid his arms crossed on the table, slumping over.
His completely burnt blonde hair fell messily on his forehead, poking his eyes.
“Wow, everyone’s drunk, everyone’s drunk! The adults!”
Ren, saying this, looked quite pleased. He seemed to covertly crave the beer, but only swallowed his saliva without even touching it… which was maddeningly cute.
Ah, he’d rather just get drunk! It was hard to stay in his right mind.
No, was he already drunk?
He wasn’t drunk at all.
Repeating this self-questioning, Ruman wondered if he’d gone briefly insane.
His heart was pounding with excitement, and with blood rushing more vigorously than ever, he felt like his mind was working well.
Still, he maintained his pretense of being drunk and tilted his head slightly as he stared at Ren.
Thud!
A heavy vibration rang through the table.
Gepetto had passed out. Having slammed his head heavily onto the table, he was grinning about something good, muttering “Mother, the medicinal herbs…” or something, clearly completely out of it. Temarr too was just nodding his head while sitting upright. Temarr’s eyes were drowsy.
Realizing he was the only one at this table properly holding his head up, Ren made an embarrassed face. Perhaps disliking being stared at by many, he looked around then subtly copied Ruman’s pose. Lying down facing him, he looked at Temarr, Gepetto, and Ruman’s faces in order and giggled to himself, thinking who knows what. Even that was good to Ruman, who gazed steadily at Ren with honey-dripping eyes.
“Oh my, this table’s all passed out!”
Said a well-built, grizzled old man who had finished the whole roasted pig and devoured all the fried food.
“…So that’s how the quarrel started?”
Jenox, who had finished talking with the man and had stood up awkwardly to have a drink with Temarr and Ruman, sat back down after seeing Ren’s table.
“With a face like yours, Jenox, I can understand! Kahaha!”
“Really. That’s harsh.”
“Look at this! When you scrunch up your face, isn’t it almost a bandit’s face!”
Jenox’s face twitched.
“But somehow it seems like a familiar face.”
“Who are you talking about? Those fellows?”
“Mm!”
“They do look extraordinary. They wouldn’t be ordinary people.”
Rare appearances aside, they had the bodies of warriors.
At first he didn’t notice, obscured by their appearances, but looking more carefully, he could sense their identities.
Jenox narrowed his eyes to see better.
“Well! That’s not what’s important right now.”
“What’s important?”
When Jenox blinked blankly, the man banged the table.
“Beer!”
“Yes! Coming!”
“Tsk. Drinking like that will kill you, kill you.”
“Making curses!”
Lying down, perhaps because he was tired, Ren began to doze off.
Matching the speed of Ren’s blinking, Ruman blinked back as if giving a cat an eye-kiss, but focused on a voice that was particularly audible amid the noisy commotion.
It was that man Jenox he’d misunderstood earlier.
Even while blinking drowsily, Ruman was listening attentively.
Did he recognize him as a Hero?
Well, he could know from hearing the news.
Although Ren’s village was quite deeply tucked away, the war had been long and he was the hero of a small village, so it wasn’t particularly strange for Temarr’s story to spread this far.
By any measure, they weren’t ordinary people. Their broad shoulders and muscles proved they were Heroes. They hadn’t even hidden the cloaks with medals and insignia. This was basically asking to be recognized.
Totally worthy of a reprimand, right?
No wait. On the way back following orders, he should be wearing at least one Hero’s insignia, right?
While Ruman was pondering about attire when returning home, an interesting conversation began to be heard.
“A terrifying Oracle has been circulating!”
“An Oracle? What Oracle?”
“Shh! Lower your voice.”
“If you know about it, it’s going to spread anyway.”
At the lukewarm voice, the man brazenly asked if he didn’t want to hear it then. Only after Jenox apologized did the man’s mouth open again.
“‘The one who possesses the treasure shall become the true master,’ they say!”
“What does that mean?”
“Jenox, how can you function being so ignorant! Doesn’t it mean becoming the master of the world?”
“What kind of treasure?”
Jenox’s reaction was indifferent.
“What would you do becoming the master of the world?”
“You have no ambition, no ambition, tsk tsk.”
“I’m happy and content just logging in this village.”
“With that scary-looking face but a heart worse than an alley boss kid!”
“Didn’t you always curse about how noisy it was?”
“That’s how loud your voice is. Look at my ears. Aren’t they all worn out from my eardrums bursting!”
“Anyway, I’m not very interested. Don’t try to entice me.”
Jenox didn’t even pretend to look at the man’s ears. As if his words of no interest were sincere, he hardened his fierce face even more.
“Hmph. A pine caterpillar must eat only pine needles, what choice is there?”
The man clicked his tongue.
“But what about those fellows?”
The man’s gaze turned toward the man with whitish burnt blonde hair lying down dozing.
Receiving the gaze fully on the back of his head, Ruman, contrary to his turbulent heart, was leisurely listening to the conversation.
‘Treasure.’
‘Oracle?’
He’d guessed about the treasure, but an Oracle.
Ruman clicked his tongue inwardly.
Was it about the anti-Hero resistance weapon?
The one who possesses the treasure shall become the true master?
That such an Oracle had recently descended meant there was still no one who possessed that treasure, right?
Ruman tried replacing that treasure with the anti-Hero resistance weapon in his thoughts. It made rough sense.
The one who possesses the anti-Hero resistance weapon shall become the true master.
As expected, that meant… the weapon that Ruman and Temarr had experienced, that weapon that was no different from having taken their lives once, was still incomplete.
