Chapter 110, Sugar Arts

Translator: Barnnn

 

Once the group had finished recounting what had happened, they began to discuss their next steps.

 

“So, what now?” Fieda asked, glancing at the others.

“Hmm, good question,” Volhelm murmured, tapping his chin. “Ize probably won’t wake up for a while, right?”

“It’d feel wrong to wake her. Let’s wait until she’s had enough rest,” Fieda replied. Then, turning to Hal, “You hungry?”

“Yeah, I could eat a little,” Hal said, already shifting on the futon.

 

But as he started to move, Ize stirred faintly beside him, her brow twitching in protest.

 

“…Guess you’ll have to eat right there,” Fieda said with a chuckle.

“Yeah,” Hal replied, matching the smile. He reached over and pulled out some sweet pastry and a cup of coffee, settling them carefully on his lap.

Volhelm’s eyes widened. “I-is that… food from another world?”

“Yup. Oh, it’s sweet, you know — want a bite?”

“C-c-c-c-c-can I really?”

 

Volhelm’s voice cracked with excitement, stretching out into a series of stammered syllables. Hal held out half of the pastry to him.

Volhelm took it with both hands as though it were a holy offering, then peered at the cross-section of the roll with scholarly intensity.

 

“It’s filled with chocolate. I wonder if they have it in this world too,” Hal remarked.

“Oh, we know chocolate,” Volhelm said, nodding. “It was spread long ago by the Sage of Sugar Arts.”

“The what?”

“Sugar Arts,” he repeated with pride. “A master who crafted countless sweets. The man was a genius. If I hadn’t made it as an adventurer, I would’ve enrolled in the confectionery school he founded.”

 

As he spoke, Volhelm took a bite of the roll, his face lighting up with joy. For a moment, he looked far less like a battle-worn adventurer and far more like a child discovering their first candy shop.

 

“Exquisite sweets are a form of art, don’t you think? Sweetness made sublime — that’s what the Sugar Arts is all about. But most adventurers don’t care. To them, food’s just fuel — slabs of meat, vegetable stews boiled into mush. Nobody appreciates tiny sugar sculptures the size of a thumb. But get this — Fuyuya is different. They steam bread using hot spring heat! The first time I saw it, I was floored. A perfect blend of art and ingenuity. And using vegetables in desserts — genius! I used to hate vegetables, you know — too bitter. But thanks to their steamed bread, I can eat them now. Imagining how to turn bitter things sweet — it’s a dream, really.”

 

As Volhelm rambled on, his love for sweets painting every word, Hal began to understand why the man visited Fuyuya so often. A sweet tooth with a grudge against vegetables — he was like a child trapped in an adult’s body.

 

“Speaking of which, Hal, were you a student in your world?”

 

Hal nearly spat out his coffee. He gulped it down instead, the sudden effort producing a strangled noise that sounded eerily like Sato’s voice. Of course anyone would assume he was a student — he looked the part, courtesy of de-aging. He winced at his own oversight.

 

“No, not a student,” Hal said, clearing his throat. “I worked for a trading company. Handled acquisitions for new products, that sort of thing.”

 

He wasn’t sure if that explanation properly conveyed the idea of a supply chain buyer and manager, but at least he’d gotten the point across — he hadn’t been a student.

 

“Wow, so you were already working. That’s rare, isn’t it? I heard that in the region where the black-haired Sages lived, people spend a long time studying.”

“What about this kingdom? Do people treat black-haired folks differently here?”

Volhelm shook his head. “Not officially, no. But there aren’t any black-haired nobles with combat prowess. I think people are just wary.”

“The legacy still casts shadows, huh…”

 

Hal gave a soft cough, then downed the rest of his coffee. The bitterness on his tongue lingered — whether from the brew or the memory of the old Hero’s scars, he couldn’t tell.

The Hero who had built Fuyuya — his tale wasn’t written in any book. It lived only in the stories passed from parent to child, grandparent to grandchild. In those stories, he wasn’t a hated foreigner, but simply Fuya, a beloved man from Japan. Hal wished, from the bottom of his heart, that it would stay that way forever.

 

“…Hal? Hal?”

 

A voice tugged at his thoughts. He glanced down to see Ize, her eyes half-lidded, looking up at him.

 

“Ize. You’re awake?”

“…Hal?”

“I’m right here.”

“I had a dream,” she murmured. “You said you were forming a trio with Jas and Ted, and then you just disappeared.”

Hal laughed. “What would we even call that trio?”

“You struck a pose — ‘Jas, Hal, and Ted!'” she said, waving her arms. “You were in the middle doing a kung fu pose… in a tight full-body gold suit.”

“Oh no. Please forget that. Immediately. That’s pure blackmail material.”

“So you HAVE worn a full-body gold suit,” she said with a mischievous grin.

 

The weariness that had marked her features earlier had vanished, replaced by amusement.

 

“So, how are you feeling?”

“Better, I think. How long was I out?”

“Just over an hour. If you want to rest more, you should. Once we’re back on the surface, it might get noisy.”

“No, I’m okay. Um… I’m seeing sparkles at the edge of my vision, though.”

“Ah. So you noticed,” Hal said, scratching his cheek.

“Of course I noticed.”

 

Before Hal could figure out how to explain it, Fieda’s voice cut in.

 

“Compensation from the dumb dragon. We should take it.”

“All this?” Ize asked, eyes widening.

“It’s supposedly the appropriate amount for the wings you healed,” Fieda replied.

“Wow… they’re so sparkly.”

 

Ize gazed at the iridescent scales in awe, her eyes sparkling to match. Hal glanced at Fieda, then exhaled a soft breath of relief. Best to stash them in her Magic Bag before she started asking questions about their rarity — or value.

 

◆

 

“Well then,” Hal said eventually, rising to his feet, “we’ll head back up.”

“I shall return to the depths as well,” rumbled Bardveles. “Fear not — I’ll remain dormant for a year.”

 

They’d spoken with Bardveles earlier and agreed that it would refrain from flying for a full year. After all, if the Fire Dragon had suddenly taken to the skies right after this quest, there was no way the public wouldn’t notice. A year might not be enough to fully obscure the truth, but at least it would buy them a safe window to disassociate the healing from Ize.

 

“Still doesn’t make me feel better,” Fieda muttered.

“It’ll be fine,” Volhelm said. “A year’s nothing for someone who’s lived for centuries. It’s practically just a quick nap.”

“Indeed,” Bardveles agreed. “You can trust me on that.”

“All right. But if you break your word, Hal’s coming to knock your teeth out.”

“Wait, ME!? Why!?”

“Like I could take it on,” Fieda snorted. “You’re up.”

“Yeah, no thanks. Ize should do it.”

“Wha– no way! I can’t knock out a Dragon! I’d break my hand!”

“…Ruthless, the lot of you green ones,” Bardveles muttered. “Very well. I swear it — I’ll behave.”

 

The massive Dragon’s wings, freshly healed, drooped slightly. Satisfied, Fieda turned to Volhelm and nodded.

 

“All right, we’re off, Bardveles,” Volhelm said. “I’m glad there’s finally a name I can call you by. See you again sometime!”

“Volhelm, give the mayor my regards,” the Dragon replied.

“Will do. Later, then!”

“See you.”

“Bye-bye!”

“Take care!”

“You are welcome here anytime,” Bardveles said, its voice fading like mist. “Now return — return to the land once protected by the Hero, little ones and guardians both.”

 

The world shifted. The red-black haze vanished into darkness, and they were back — in the dim, heavy air of the chamber where they had once practiced the teleportation password.

 

“It all went by in a flash, huh,” Hal said, glancing back at the quiet hall behind them.

“Sure did,” Volhelm agreed. “All right, let’s head back into town. The horsebus should already be waiting.”

“Got it. Oh — Hal, Ize, don’t forget to change your hair back before we go.”

“Ah, I almost forgot. Thanks, Fieda,” Ize said, offering a grateful nod.

 

She proceeded to reactivate her Camouflage skill. In the blink of an eye, the color of her and Hal’s hair and eyes shifted back to the usual. Ize exhaled quietly, her shoulders sinking in subtle relief. Hal noticed and sent her a look of concern.

 

“I’m fine,” she said with a crooked smile, reading the expression. “You don’t have to worry.”

“YOu sure?” Hal raised an eyebrow. “Just remember what happens if you pass out again.”

“What does happen?” she asked warily.

“I’ll make you tea every day using Sato’s bathwater. Thick, rich broth. I bet it’ll be DELICIOUS.”

“Ugh! That’s awful. Don’t waste good tea leaves like that!”

“Then don’t push yourself.”

“…All right. I get it.”

 

Still grumbling, Ize gave a reluctant nod. Hal chuckled and reached out to ruffle her hair before heading down the hall. Ize watched him go, letting out another quiet sigh as she followed.

 

◆

 

“Ugh… I’m exhausted.”

“My throat’s killing me,” groaned Hal, flopping to the floor.

“Want a Rain Drop?” Ize asked, already fishing some out of her Magic Bag.

“Yes, please.”

“Say ‘ahh.'”

“Ahh — ohh, sweet… I’m alive again.”

“Fieda, you too. Here.”

“Ahhh…”

 

The trio sprawled across the floor, sucking on candy and groaning like survivors of a long battle. Frankly, their walk through town had felt less like a return and more like a victory parade — like they were baseball champs or Olympic gold medalists.

 

“Volhelm’s still out there mingling, right?” Hal asked, stretching. “Man’s a machine. That’s an A-rank adventurer for you.”

“It’s not the rank,” Fieda said. “He’s been coming to this town for years. The people know him — they’re comfortable talking to him. We were lucky we got to duck out since Ize was worn out.”

“Nice move, Ize,” Hal added.

“I didn’t DO anything,” she muttered. “I was just… standing there.”

“Then, nice assist? Nice follow-up?”

“Call it whatever you want…”

 

Too tired to care, Ize let the teasing slide.

Thanks to the inn staff’s kindness — or maybe just foresight — the dinner table was already fully set. The three of them dragged themselves to their feet and stared blankly at the sheer volume of food — practically enough for an imperial banquet — spread out before them.

 

“That’s… a lot.”

“Looks like a meal for twenty people,” Ize murmured.

“Huh, they use the same kind of tableware we bought in Bezbaro,” Fieda noted. “We can just pack up the leftovers, right?”

“Yeah, no way we’re finishing all this,” Hal said. “Shame, though — it smells amazing.”

 

Each of them picked out what they liked best and began to eat, slowly regaining their energy.

 

“Hey… where’s Sato?” Hal suddenly asked, noticing the little creature’s absence. “I haven’t seen it since the cave.”

“In my Magic Bag,” Ize replied.

“You’re not going to let it out?”

“I was thinking about it…”

“We’re back in our room. Let it relax,” Hal encouraged — but Ize’s expression grew pensive, her brow furrowing. “…Huh, what’s wrong?”

“Sato… got really down after you were saved.”

“What? Why!?”

 

Hal’s voice shot up in disbelief. He twisted around to face her fully.

 

“I think it blames itself. Thinks it got in the way when you were trying to save me.”

“That’s ridiculous! It wouldn’t have made any difference where we ran! And it DID NOT get in the way!”

“I tried telling it that,” Ize said gently. “But maybe it needs to hear it from you. Want me to bring it out?”

“Yes. Please.”

 

Ize nodded and reached into her Magic Bag, summoning out the Mandragora.

Except…

 

“Sato, how come you look like a wilted radish instead of a turnip!?”

 

It was completely drooped, its leafy sprout sagging like a deflated balloon.

 

“Kyoo…”

“Did you get a dose of healing magic today?” Hal asked.

“Kyokyokyokyo…”

 

Sato shook its head like a child refusing medicine.

 

“See?” Ize said. “It doesn’t want it. If I try to force it, it just runs. C’mon, Sato, don’t worry about it anymore.”

“That’s right, Sato,” Hal said softly. “I’m fine, see?”

“Kyo…”

 

Hal picked up the reluctant creature and cradled it carefully in his arms.

 

“Sato… I wanted to protect you. You didn’t get in the way.”

“Kyo…”

Hal smiled gently. “You know, after all that trouble saving you, I’d be sad if you weren’t happy. I want you to be glad you’re here.”

“Kekyo?”

“I want to be with you, Sato. That’s all. So please — this is selfish, but… will you listen to my request?”

“Kekyo…”

 

He stroked Sato’s biggest leaf with a light touch. The little creature’s shaking stopped. Slowly, hesitantly, the leaf trembled back and brushed Hal’s cheek in return.

 

“Me and Ize… we care about you, Sato. You’re our family. We hate seeing you suffer.”

“Kekyo…”

“Please, Sato,” Ize added. “Let me give you healing magic. I want to see you healthy again.”

“Kekyo…”

 

Finally, Sato lifted its face with determination — only to swing its leaf straight into Hal’s nose.

 

“Gah–!”

“Kekyo?”

“Pfft–!”

“What are you even doing?” Fieda asked, deadpan.

 

As Hal groaned and rubbed his nose with tears in his eyes, Ize and Fieda’s dispassionate voices echoed through the room.

 

“So cruel…” he mumbled.

“Come on, Sato. Over here,” Ize said.

“Kekyo!”

“Let’s get you your magic. It’s been three days, hasn’t it?”

“You went that long without any?” Hal said, eyes wide. “Tough little thing…”

“Kekyooo…”

 

Sato swayed in bliss as the warmth of healing magic flowed through its body. It still looked like a sad radish for now — but it wouldn’t be long before its plump, round body returned to normal.

 

“All right. Bath, then bed,” Fieda declared.

“Yeah! Hot spring time!” Hai chimed in.

“We still need to pick up that one-week pass,” Ize reminded them.

“Ugh… I really don’t want to spend a whole week in THIS hot spring town,” Fieda muttered.

“It IS tempting to just ditch the prize and make a run for it,” Hal chuckled.

“A hot spring lover like you, giving up a hot spring pass? That’s impossible!”

“Come on. You think I can soak in peace surrounded by crowds like that?”

“Yeah, I don’t want to be elbow-to-elbow with a bunch of naked old men,” Hal said grimly.

 

As they pictured the scene, both Hal and Fieda visibly drained of color. Even Ize, who would be unaffected, went pale.

 

“…Let’s decide after we stop by the Guild,” she said quietly.

“Right.”

“Agreed.”