Chapter 7: The Weight of the Past and the Future

Chapter 7

Hay Styles crammed his stinking boots back on, then gathered his cloak and staff.

Though the thought of leaving them behind, given their cumbersome nature, was tempting, he worried about them being stolen, as they were the most valuable items he possessed.

“I’m alr—”

“Quiet.”

He slung an arm around Renki’s shoulder, pulling the boy, who had been standing idly, out the door.

They needed to go to a general store to buy clothes. Having spotted one on their way, Hay led Renki there.

Since they needed clothes immediately, he opted for something cheap and practical.

He also purchased clothes for Renki and a spare pair of gloves. The shopping was over in a flash.

“Hungry?”

“I’m fi—”

“Let’s at least eat some fruit. We can have dinner after we’ve washed up.”

Unwilling to eat in their current grimy state, Hay bought two apples from a passing shop, and they shared them. Renki, too, munched on his with gusto.

After a brief stroll and some sightseeing, they returned to the inn, where a young girl, presumably Mr. Torres’s daughter, rushed over and beckoned to them.

“Mr. Styles, right?”

She had likely seen the name recorded in the ledger.

Hay nodded, and the girl gestured towards the back door.

“Both baths are ready. They’re in the building to the right of the backyard. We’ve also prepared some odor-removing herbs, so use as much as you need. The water’s still hot, though, so let it cool a bit before you get in. You might scald yourselves.”

She seemed busy, delivering her message swiftly before disappearing.

They first returned to their room to collect fresh clothes, then headed to the bathhouse with Renki.

The wooden tubs resembled nothing more than oversized barrels.

There were three tubs in total; one was overturned, seemingly being cleaned and dried, while the other two contained warm water.

Screens separated the tubs, but they only reached mid-thigh, offering little in the way of privacy.

The water temperature had cooled to a perfect warmth.

Before stepping into the tub, Hay stripped completely, then used a dipper to scoop water, washing away the dirt and grime from his body and hair.

Even though he used daily, murky water still streamed from his body.

In the adjacent cubicle, Renki had already shed his turban and mask and was submerged in the tub, his back turned to Hay.

He likely wished to conceal his face, disfigured by burns.

Hay melted into the warm water, letting out a deep sigh.

In his mind, he pictured the hot spray of a shower.

Han Tae-hyun used to love standing under a hot shower for ages when he was tired. But that was a lifetime ago.

“I want tteokbokki.”

“Huh?”

Renki turned at his absentminded mumble.

Hay glanced at him, then shrugged. ‘Of course, tteokbokki wouldn’t exist in this world.’

“What do you want for dinner?”

“Anything’s fi—”

“Don’t say ‘fine’.”

“Uhm, well…”

Renki, looking flustered, scratched his chestnut hair, which had darkened further from the water.

“Think about it until we go eat.”

“Alright…”

Renki gave an awkward laugh.

Hay, once again, let his gaze sweep over Renki’s body. Though it was much improved compared to three months ago, his body was still covered in burn scars.

His scalp, too, was scarred, leaving his hair sparse, and his face remained distorted by the burns.

Only the area around his mouth seemed untouched.

Hay couldn’t even imagine what his face might have looked like before the injuries.

‘He should fully recover if he keeps drinking the healing potion for about another year…’

Perhaps sensing Hay’s gaze, Renki subtly turned, covering the area beneath his eyes with his hand.

“Why are you looking at me like that? Is something on my face?”

Hay nonchalantly averted his gaze and shrugged.

“No, nothing like that. I just had a question.”

“Go ahead.”

“I’ve been thinking, maybe I’ll take up farming when I retire.”

“Farming? Really?”

“Yeah. Whether it’s a cornfield or whatever, as long as it provides enough to live on, I think farming might be a good idea. What do you think?”

“Oh, you mentioned farmland earlier, too. Do you really want to quit being a mercenary?”

“With you here, I don’t want to keep risking my life wandering around.”

His conscience pricked him for making the child suffer so much. More than anything, he himself was tired of enduring such hardship.

The monster attacks on this journey had been exceptionally threatening, and having died from overwork once before, he resented not having enjoyed his life.

Whether it was simply bad luck or some strange twist of fate, he kept clashing head-on with monsters throughout this journey.

As a result, he, who usually participated in battles by providing support from a distance, found himself on the front lines, which was exhausting.

What he loathed as much as dying from overwork was dying in a foreign land.

He also disliked the thought of being buried like discarded refuse on some unfamiliar roadside.

“I plan to retire once I’ve saved enough to buy some land.”

“…”

“What do you think?”

“Do my thoughts matter? I’m just here to do as my master commands.”

Because he was a s*ave.

That unspoken sentiment was clear in Renki’s words.

Hay propped his chin in his hand.

“That’s true, I suppose.”

“But, Master.”

“Hmm?”

“Cheapel is barren land, unsuitable for farming.”

“Oh?”

“It varies by territory, but the lords here levy exorbitant taxes. I’ve heard it’s the same in other Eastern Continent countries. I learned this from another porter recently—you know, that tall, red-haired guy? He’s from the Kingdom of Rakumta, and they’ve had poor harvests for years, yet the lords exploit the farmers and serfs, extracting so much tax that it led to a rebellion. Of course, everyone involved was caught, executed, or enslaved. If you’re going to retire, it would be far better to open an inn or a restaurant in a suitable city, wouldn’t it? I’ve heard taxes are high there too, but still. So, what I’m saying is, why not open a shop instead of farming?”

Renki rattled off a surprising amount of information at a rapid pace.

‘The kid’s smart. Was he always this talkative?’

“Hmm, dealing with customers sounds troublesome.”

Self-employment often meant more trouble than it was worth.

‘As Han Tae-hyun, I once considered opening a gukbap restaurant with the cooking skills my mother taught me. But I quickly abandoned the idea. Preparing food is no easy task.’

Doing business here would be even more difficult.

Moreover, while he knew Korean cuisine, ‘Hay’ had no idea how to cook the local dishes, nor did he want to.

“Then perhaps you could look for another profession?”

For once, Renki actively voiced his opinion. Hay was a little surprised, but he found it endearing.

“You’re just saying that because you don’t want to farm, aren’t you?”

Hay asked teasingly, and Renki’s eyes widened in alarm.

“N-no, it’s not like that!”

“What do you mean, ‘it’s not’? I indulged you, and now you’re getting cheeky.”

“It’s really not!”

Finding his vehement denial adorable, Hay burst out laughing.

“They say a strong denial is a strong affirmation.”

“Who says that?!”

“Someone did.”

“But it’s really not…”

“I know. I’m just messing with you, kidding.”

Thinking Renki might actually cry, Hay chuckled and stopped teasing him.

“I just want to build a house in a quiet place and earn enough to live comfortably.”

‘Should I reconsider buying farmland?’

He hadn’t paid much attention to it before, but it was true that land prices were steep. Opening a shop, he mused, felt like too much trouble; he might as well just continue being a mercenary.

Lost in thought, Hay leaned his head back and gazed up at the worn ceiling.

“It’s not urgent, so I can take my time looking into it.”

If worst came to worst, he could always migrate to another country, though certain conditions would apply.

“Should I go to the Western Continent? They say it’s prosperous there. I’ve heard their civilization is more developed. Wouldn’t it be better to live there?”

Renki’s shoulders twitched.

“The Western Continent is certainly more advanced than the Eastern Continent, especially due to its developed magical engineering. They have quite a few inventions that don’t exist here. Even at night, the streets are bright because of the streetlights, and aside from a few kingdoms, taxes aren’t too high. The Empire, in particular, has distinct four seasons. As for the southern regions, perhaps because they’re closer to the Southern Continent, they experience spring and autumn weather year-round.”

“Is the Western Continent also good for immigrants?”

“I’ve heard that immigration for foreigners is quite strict. Most immigrants are swordsmen or mages who have sworn loyalty to the lords of their respective regions and served for over ten years. Even those who don’t fit that description often have accomplished great deeds for the nation.”

“Hmm, I don’t like working for anyone, though.”

That was truly tiresome.

‘Swear loyalty? That’s insane.’

He absolutely detested being affiliated with anyone.

Freedom was paramount. Even if being free came with its own set of difficulties, it was still preferable.

“You know a lot about the Western Continent.”

“Oh, I just heard about it from one of the slaves in the market who was from the Western Continent.”

Renki said, huddling his body.

“Well, things will work out somehow. I’ll have to continue working as a mercenary for the next few years anyway.”

Whatever he decided to do, he first needed to save up his retirement fund. That was the crucial part.

Hay vigorously shook the odor-removing herbs into the tub, then washed his hair. His long hair clung to the nape of his neck.

****

After bathing first, Hay was sprawled on the bed, his body pleasantly weary, when Renki returned.

Renki had inexplicably donned his turban over his wet hair, covering his face. ‘If only I had made a contract with a wind spirit, it could dry his hair,’ Hay thought.

Hay pulled him over, made him sit, and then vigorously towel-dried Renki’s hair with the towel provided by the inn.

By the time they returned after eating dinner at a nearby restaurant, twilight had deepened considerably.

The evening bell, signaling curfew, tolled from the bell tower.

“Lie down and sleep.”

As Hay cleaned and polished the grime from his staff, Renki sat beside him, nodding off.

At Hay’s words, Renki’s eyes snapped open as if to deny his sleepiness, but he was already succumbed to slumber.

He had every right to be tired.

After all, he had endured a grueling twenty-two-day march that would have exhausted even an adult, all while his body was far from fully recovered.

“You can sleep. I’m just going out for a bit anyway.”

He picked up his now-polished staff and rose from his seat.

“Where are you going, Master?”

“To the backyard. I’m going to train. Don’t worry and sleep. Make sure the door is locked.”

“Alright.”

He gently patted Renki’s head a couple of times, the boy having replied docilely.

He was like a much younger brother, born late in the family.

‘No, I’m thirty, so he’s more like a nephew, isn’t he?’

Leaving the room, Hay stepped into the inn’s backyard and surveyed his surroundings for a moment.

As he circled the inn building, he spotted a man perched on a third-story windowsill, from which light spilled out.

The man, quite advanced in years, appeared to be a mercenary.

‘Someone is watching. It would be rather uncomfortable to train here.’

Hay turned and left the inn entirely. Although it was curfew, no guards were patrolling the streets.

He headed towards a small plaza near the inn. He had noticed a small grove of trees nearby on his way back.

Upon arriving, he once again surveyed his surroundings.

There was no one watching, and naturally, no one was wandering the streets.

Feeling relieved, he looked around the grove, admiring the scenery, then set his staff down beneath a tree and began his usual training. However, it didn’t go as he wished.

Mana gathered, but it felt utterly unsatisfactory.

‘This isn’t right, I remember it differently.’

Hay furrowed his brows and tilted his head.

He rummaged through his memories, recalling the old man he had met as a child.

Despite it being sixteen years ago, the image of his departed master was vividly clear.

The Elf Spirit Master, Hellheim.

Just a short while ago, his face had been blurry, but now it was so distinct that Hay could count the freckles on it.

‘Damn it! I don’t want to remember that old geezer so clearly!’

He inwardly shuddered with intense frustration.