Translator: Barnnn

“You sure took your time.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Perhaps far TOO MUCH time.”

“Err… sorry?”

 

Hal offered a half-hearted apology, more out of form than remorse, to the man standing before him. Somewhere nearby, he felt the prick of a stern glare — likely from one of the armored guards lurking behind the nobleman — but he chose to ignore it.

 

“I heard you were in the Royal Capital at the start of July. Do you even know what month it is now? OCTOBER. From the Capital to here — even if you dragged your feet — you could’ve made it in a month. Taking three is just absurd.”

“We’ve been touring various parts of Tajellia,” Hal replied. “It’s been an incredibly educational journey.”

“There was a village with delicious mushrooms,” Ize chimed in helpfully.

“That was before the Capital,” Hal pointed out.

“Oh, right. Then there was the village with the beautiful ceramics, the town famous for its dyes, the one with the stunning limestone caves, and the cape with the legendary bell that grants love to those who ring it — and the sunset was nice, too.”

“Oh, and just before we entered this city, there was a village holding its autumn harvest festival. They’ve got a fountain that spouts wine — now that was absolutely amazing.”

“…So, just sightseeing, then,” the nobleman said, glaring at the two like they were mold on fine silk.

 

The man’s black hair gleamed under the lamplight, his presence stiff and biting. This was none other than the Lord of Speraniessa — the same man Volhelm had once described as “unlucky” and “a bit eccentric.”

 

“But we made it before winter hit, didn’t we?” Hal said cheerfully.

“Right on schedule,” Ize agreed, nodding.

“Perfectly according to plan,” Fieda added without a hint of shame.

 

The Lord’s glower darkened, but the three showed no signs of remorse. From around the room, bewildered and exasperated gazes flitted their way — but not one of them seemed to care. Not Hal. Not Ize. And unusually, not even Fieda.

 

“Do none of you understand the concept of lèse-majesté?” the Lord asked through gritted teeth.

“If required, we can make arrangements for that,” came the calm reply of the man standing beside him — likely a secretary of some kind.

“Ooh, a prison stay experience?” Hal said brightly.

“Wait, would we be separated? That’d be kind of inconvenient,” Ize added. “Please keep us together?”

“I’ve heard it’s difficult to charge accomplished adventurers with lèse-majesté,” Fieda remarked with a grin. “Especially ones with proven records.”

 

He was referring, of course, to their successful special missions in Jasted and Fuyuya.

 

“Good to have a corrupt old man on our side,” Hal said.

“I’m not corrupt,” Fieda muttered.

“I hear bad boys are in fashion these days,” Ize chuckled.

“Hmph. Is that so?” Fieda scratched his stubbled jaw with a rasp like sandpaper. With his gravelly voice and crooked smile, he looked more like the leader of a gang of bandits than an adventurer.

 

Hal and Ize exchanged a glance, then broke into exaggerated applause.

 

“Ooh!”

“Bravo!”

“You three, be quiet already,” the Lord snapped.

“Yessir,” Hal replied, saluting lazily.

“Aye aye,” Ize echoed.

“Hmph.”

 

◆

 

Just before reaching Speraniessa, the trio had stopped by a nearby village. While gathering some local information from merchants, they’d heard of a harvest festival where the village fountain gushed with wine for one day only. The festival was a wild, joyous celebration, with everyone drenched in laughter and vintage red.

According to Hal, it mirrored a real festival in Italy. Once mentioned, the influence of a certain Italy-born Hero felt almost palpable in the village’s cheerful spirit.

The next day, the festivities continued with a pizza dough spinning contest — participants flinging and twirling dough through the air. Some inevitably slipped loose and smacked into the audience, which was all part of the charm. When one pizza chef caught a rogue dough mid-air, spun it once more, and launched it back to the stage with a flourish, the crowd erupted in cheers.

Naturally, all the dough was baked and enjoyed by everyone afterward. Fieda — who’d developed a taste for pizza in Jasted — sampled every sauce and topping with the enthusiasm of a child.

All in all, it had been a fantastic celebration.

 

◆

 

…But that was, in the end, a detour.

They had ended up visiting a few more villages along the way, finally arriving in Speraniessa yesterday. After going through the procedures at the city gate and reporting in to the Adventurers’ Guild, they’d planned a full day of sightseeing.

That was when a man — dressed like a pompous noble’s errand boy — entered the inn and stopped Ize as she happened to pass by the lobby.

 

“You there, brat,” he barked.

“Hmm? Me?” Ize blinked innocently.

“Yeah, you. Is there a man named Fieda staying here?”

“Who’s asking?”

“Just answer the question. Is he here or not?”

“I’m not an employee of this inn, and I don’t give information to strangers.”

“Watch your mouth, brat. Go fetch someone who works here.”

“I’m a guest, not a bellhop. Good day.”

 

Watching from the dining hall doorway, Hal and Fieda barely managed to stifle their laughter. After all, the man was looking for someone standing just a few feet away. Ize, perfectly composed, had brushed him off with a poise that spoke volumes.

As they sat down for breakfast, Hal leaned toward her.

 

“You know that guy’s a messenger from the Lord of Speraniessa, right?”

“Oh, was he?” Ize said, tilting her head. “He didn’t introduce himself, so how was I supposed to know?”

 

She shrugged, feigning ignorance, and began calmly cutting into her pancakes.

Fieda sighed, slicing through his own stack with less enthusiasm.

 

“Second day in town and the Lord’s already sniffing around. That guy showing up so fast means someone was watching the gates, ready to report us the moment we arrived.”

“Creepy,” Ize muttered.

“He’s only asking for Fieda, so we’re not involved, right?” Hal said cheerfully. “Let’s make a run for it.”

“You two are definitely the reason he’s here,” Fieda grumbled.

“I’d love to run,” Ize admitted, “but I think it’s already too late.”

 

She casually pointed her butter knife toward the dining hall’s entrance.

 

“Oh no, my dear Ize,” Hal chided. “Didn’t Mother teach you not to point knives at people?”

“Ahh, I suppose knives are for stabbing, not pointing, my dear Hal,” Ize replied sweetly.

“Try to act concerned, at least,” Fieda muttered. “He looks ready to explode.”

 

The messenger was now marching toward them with thunder in his steps.

Ize and Hal continued their meal without concern, while Fieda sighed and picked up the pace — he had to finish his soufflé pancakes before its twenty-minute shelf life was up.

Alas, he got just one bite in before the man reached their table.

 

“You. You’re Fieda?”

 

The messenger shot a venomous glare at Ize as he spoke. Without haste, Fieda finished chewing, swallowed, and finally turned to him.

 

“And who might you be?”

“I serve the Lord of Speraniessa.”

“Oh, a messenger of the Lord himself. Indeed, I am Fieda. What can I do for you?”

 

The way Fieda responded — overly polite and dripping with sarcasm — made Ize and Hal tremble with the effort of holding back laughter. Still, they kept their heads down and quietly focused on their food, knowing full well that soufflé pancakes didn’t wait for diplomacy.

 

“Do your children know nothing of manners?”

“Good food should be eaten while it’s still hot. Otherwise, it’s… well, not good,” Hal said, flashing a defiant grin as he bit down on his fork and smirked around it.

“That’s just how he is,” Fieda added with a resigned shrug.

“I’d heard from Volhelm that you were… eccentric,” the messenger said, his brow twitching in irritation. “But I wasn’t informed that you lacked basic common sense.”

 

The sharp tone and twitch of the man’s carefully groomed brow revealed at least one thing: he was personally acquainted with Volhelm.

 

“Common sense,” Ize said mildly, “tends to shift meaning when you cross borders.”

“Indeed,” Hal added. “What’s a sign of peace in one kingdom might be a vulgar insult in another.”

 

To illustrate the point, Hal held up a peace sign — then flipped it to show the backside.

 

“Are you suggesting I’ve insulted you in some way?” the messenger asked, his voice cooling even further.

“We wouldn’t go so far as to deny it,” Hal said, glancing sidelong at Ize.

 

Taking his cue, Ize rose with a graceful motion and gathered the hem of her skirt, offering a polite curtsy.

 

“I’m Ize, a D-rank adventurer currently accompanying Fieda. Pleased to meet you.”

 

As she dipped in greeting, the late-summer light caught her hair, now past her shoulders, as it rippled like silk.

 

“D-rank?” the messenger parroted, blinking.

“That’s what you latch onto?” Ize said, dropping into her chair with a sigh.

“Yeah, of all the details, that’s the one that matters to you?” Hal grumbled, waving his hand dismissively. “Well, I might as well introduce myself too. Name’s Hal, also D-rank. Pleasure.”

“Now then,” Fieda continued, “may I ask what this visit is about? We’d be happy to report to the Lord’s estate later — AFTER breakfast.”

“You’re being summoned for a reason,” the messenger snapped. “The Lord is already waiting for you in this very inn’s receiving room. You’re to attend the meeting immediately.”

“He’s here!?” Hal gasped.

“Creepy,” Ize muttered.

“Can we have twenty minutes?” Fieda asked.

“IMMEDIATELY!” the man barked, spinning on his heel and storming out, his boots pounding the floor.

 

“Well then, ten minutes it is,” Fieda said, cheerfully picking up his fork again.

“Eating too fast first thing in the morning’s bad for your health,” Hal noted.

“Ehh, let’s not tease the messenger too much. Impatient as he is, he’s just doing his job,” Ize chuckled.

 

With all that said, the three of them continued eating at a relaxed pace.

Around them, the inn’s other patrons and staff — who had been watching in stunned silence from the moment the messenger entered — united in a single, silent scream:

 

“STOP EATING AND JUST GO ALREADY!”

 

◆

 

“I’m telling you,” Hal said as they stood outside the receiving room, “soufflé pancakes just go best with maple syrup.”

“What was the thing we just had, anyway?” Ize asked. “It didn’t feel quite like honey.”

“Honey-butter. A mix of… well, honey and butter. It’s hard to spread on soufflé pancakes, huh?”

“They do get squished if you try to force it,” Fieda added.

“They’re easier to spread while the pancakes are warm, but you lose precious time waiting for them to melt.”

“Ah, so that’s what happened,” Ize said with a nod.

“Got it,” Fieda said.

 

They continued chatting about breakfast without lowering their voices — despite standing right outside the very room where a nobleman awaited them. If any of their conversation was leaking through the door, they didn’t seem concerned.

The messenger soon reappeared, glaring daggers at them.

 

“You’re late.”

“Terribly sorry to keep you waiting,” Fieda said.

“I said IMMEDIATELY.”

“And he said twenty minutes,” Hal added. “Look — we made it in fifteen. That’s our best.”

 

Hal glanced at the receiving room’s clock and gave a proud nod.

 

“You sure took your time,” said another voice from the far end of the room.

 

It wasn’t the messenger this time.

The trio turned to face the source of the voice, their eyes falling on the figure seated on a sofa.

And the moment they saw his face, Hal and Ize froze.

They had expected a very different appearance.

Whenever the people in this kingdom said “black-haired,” they naturally thought of Fuya, the infamous Japanese Hero. So when they’d heard they’d be meeting a black-haired noble, their minds had conjured someone East Asian — Japanese, maybe Korean or Chinese.

The man before them bore no such features. His skin was dusky and sun-kissed, his thick black hair coiled in waves. A strong, straight nose, bold brows, and full lips gave his face an intensity neither Ize nor Hal had anticipated.

He was, without question, different from the typical citizens of Tajellia.

Of course, nobility often carried traces of Hero blood — that much they’d known. Differences in appearance weren’t unusual, especially with ancestry tied to other worlds. But the man before them had the sharp, commanding features often seen in men from South Asia — India or Pakistan, perhaps.

 

As Hal and Ize stared, perhaps too long, Fieda leaned over and muttered in a low voice, “Don’t gawk. He’s nobility.”

“Ah — right,” Hal said, blinking and straightening.

“We forgot. Are we supposed to bow or something?” Ize whispered.

“Just do SOMETHING.”

 

With varying degrees of grace, the three of them offered their respects.

Fieda gave the quick nod and hand-to-hilt gesture typical of seasoned adventurers.

Hal clasped his hands behind his back and dipped his head.

Ize, with more practiced elegance, folded her hands in front and offered a feminine bow.

 

“…Quite the adventuring trio,” the Lord murmured.

 

They looked up again to meet his gaze.

 

“I’ve been expecting you,” he said. “Ever since Volhelm contacted me back in JUNE.”

 

He put pointed emphasis on the month.

The trio nodded along, waiting for him to continue.

 

“Don’t you think,” he said slowly, “you’re just a little TOO late?”

“Sorry?” Hal asked, feigning innocence.

“I said JUNE.”

“Yes,” Hal nodded. “We met with Mister Volhelm in June. He mentioned you’d be expecting us soon after.”

“Right. So?”

“So…?”

“Why did it take you so long to get here?”

 

Caught off guard, Hal wilted, his eyebrows forming a pitiful slope.

Beside him, Ize winced and scrunched up her mouth.

Apparently, despite his striking South Asian appearance, the Lord of Speraniessa harbored the soul of a punctual, time-obsessed Japanese office worker.

And for the next ten minutes, the three adventurers endured a passionate lecture on the importance of time management, given by a man who clearly believed no topic was too trivial for noble seriousness — even if it turned out to be a complete waste of everyone’s time.