Chapter 57
A white dress flows with golden hair in the cool afternoon breeze. Somewhere pollen flies, tickling my nose.
Here, the month of September isn’t the same as it is back in Korea. The air is crisp and refreshing. The faint smell of dry firewood lingers in the streets, probably because many buildings here are made from timber.
Lir and I wandered around for a while, asking passersby if they knew any good restaurants nearby.
Most people recommended a dwarf-operated flour noodle shop. They said the spicy yet refreshing noodles were perfect to try before it got any colder.
“…It doesn’t appeal to me.”
Of course, I didn’t want to go to the noodle shop that so many people recommended—the reason being obvious: because too many people recommended it.
“…It looks like it’ll end up as bread and coffee again.”
“What can you do if you don’t like the famous places?”
“Well, you suggested it, didn’t you, Lir?”
And so, we entered a café as we always do, for bread and coffee. To me, as a Korean, bread and coffee felt more like dessert than a full meal, but in this medieval-European style world, it counted as a hearty meal.
“Is there no music shop nearby?”
“I’ve already scouted a place. It’s not too far; just a little down the alley.”
“You didn’t bother to find a good place to eat together, but somehow you already checked out the music shop?”
Lir paused in her coffee drinking and gave me a sharp look.
What did I do wrong to deserve this glare?
“…Yeah.”
I lifted my cup quietly, at a loss for words. Instead of coffee, my cup held warm tea.
Though tea contains caffeine, it’s nowhere near the shock factor of coffee, so I sipped it comfortably, enjoying its fragrance.
Out the café window, horses and carts passed by. Merchants carrying loads of goods walked by, and children laughed as they ran away.
Unnamed birds touched down on the ground, only to flee at once at the sound of the children’s footsteps. Gusts of wind pulled aside the veil of a woman walking by.
The tea was warm, and peace filled the day. It was a decent day—a day that felt like it could produce a decent melody if only I had some sheet music and a pen.
“Check out, please.”
I handed the owner a single gold coin and stood up to leave. The shopkeeper broke into a cold sweat at the sight of me paying for just two pieces of bread and beverages with gold.
“…Uh, sorry, but I don’t have enough change.”
“Ah.”
Of course, in this era, gold coins carry considerable value. A single slice of bread or a cup of coffee costs about one penny, and there are 100 pennies in a copper coin, 100 copper coins in a silver coin, and 100 silver coins in a gold one.
What I was essentially doing was handing the café owner the equivalent of a multi-million-won check for a single Americano, quite insane indeed.
In modern times, the shop attendant would have probably given me a look like, “What, this guy crazy?” but the medieval shopkeeper instead appeared slightly frightened.
Since the rich people carrying gold coins were likely nobles in this age…
“Please forgive me, miss.”
But strangely, the shopkeeper apologized not to me but to Lir.
“…?”
Upon reflection, it made sense. I was dressed plainly, while Lir stood in her elegant dress, her elven nobility evident even beneath her hat.
The shopkeeper must have thought I was merely her servant.
The thought left me feeling somewhat bitter.
“Keep the change.”
I directly stared at the shopkeeper, who judged others by appearances, and firmly placed the gold coin on the table.
…Though, in truth, there was no loud ‘thud.’ It was more like a soft ‘pop’ or a ‘click.’
Without giving him time to apologize, I rushed out of the café in a huff.
I’ll teach you, you uncultured medieval dweller, with money!…
“Wait, we’re just leaving?”
“Yes!”
Lir followed after me as I pushed open the café door.
“I brought some pennies too. Why didn’t you let me pay?”
“That’s fine. I decided I’d treat.”
“…Fine, if you don’t mind. But the café owner has probably just been hit by a windfall.”
Maybe next time I should wear something more appropriate despite the nuisance—considering the trouble with Count Gunner a while back, living as a normal civilian in the Middle Ages seemed harder than expected.
Shaking off the awkwardness, I walked through the alleyway. The sunlight was partially blocked by the three-story buildings.
As we entered the shadowy alley, Lir leaned slightly toward me. I tilted my head to see her since her balance seemed unstable.
“Thieves are following us. You shouldn’t flaunt money so blatantly in weird places—oh!”
Before I realized it, she was closer than expected, likely attempting to whisper but cut off when I moved my head.
Her thin finger struck my back forcefully, and my spine bent like a bow.
“Clack!”
Typically, you’d hear a “thwack” from a slap, but with my bony frame, the impact of bone hitting bone was unmistakable.
“What’s your problem suddenly jerking like that?”
Are you insane, elf?
How can you be mad at me after sticking your face right into mine?
As I massaged my aching spine and glared at her, Lir quickly noticed her mistake and apologized quietly.
“Anyway! Thieves are following us.”
She took a step back, seemingly using it as an excuse.
“How do you know they’re thieves? They could just coincidentally be going the same way. It’s probably just overthinking.”
“Because I can hear the sound of daggers.”
“Ah.”
What kind of era is this Middle Ages, anyway?
We’re not in some remote backwater; this is the capital of the confederation. And yet, the moment I flaunt gold coins, thieves start following us. Are there no police in this time?
“Is it because of our clothes?”
Ordinarily, someone who casually pulls gold coins out of their pocket is likely affiliated with a prestigious noble family.
And usually, street thugs don’t dare to attempt thievery from these noble heirs who are always accompanied by bodyguards. Even if unseen, there may be hidden guards nearby, and even if they were truly alone, it’s impossible for them to handle the consequences.
But currently, my appearance was clearly that of a commoner, and Lir, though dressed in a neat dress, had no extravagant decorations. Rather, there were clumsy repair marks where decorations should have been.
From a medieval perspective, flaunting gold coins while dressed as an ordinary person might be my own fault.
Like, some random kid, easy to stab, might drop handfuls of gold coins? This is unbearable!
…What a crazy world. A truly crazy one.
“Let Lir handle it.”
“Again? I did all the work last time in the pizza bakery.”
“I treated the meal, didn’t I?”
“Eh? That’s completely different.”
Lir and I quietly conversed, careful not to let the little pests trailing us hear.
“Let Mr. Bin handle it this time.”
The only magic I have is Flower Bloom, and my combat skills consist only of ‘Red Crystal.’
Certainly, Flower Bloom is out of the question, and if I mishandle Red Crystal here, I might not only pierce the chests of the thieves chasing us but also burn off the cook’s hair in the café kitchen after punching through the wall.
Daljin… obviously isn’t an option. That guy could use this as an excuse to wreak havoc in the capital.
And isn’t it strange to call a god-level transcendent being just to chase off bandits?
Unless I’m thinking of lighting up an entire village and not just a thatched roof, it’s best not to consider summoning Daljin.
“Ah, fine. If Lir doesn’t do it, I’ll just get stabbed.”
“Such stubbornness!”
And so, we continued our conversation while entering a secluded alley. It wasn’t a strategy meant to lure them into attacking—it just happened to be the fastest route to the instrument shop.
“Hey.”
Like something straight out of a cliché medieval scene, a group of predictable threats materialized before us.
“Hand over the woman and the money and leave. Otherwise, give up your lives as well.”
It’s nearing twilight, so the silver of the knives they brandished was now painted crimson.
I know it’s unrealistic to expect creativity from thugs targeting a kid not yet twenty years old, but aren’t these lines way too cliché?
“What brat is carrying gold coins? Some successful merchant’s son? Must be doing good business?”
“And the girl? She’s worth more than imagination. Can I play with her first before we sell her, boss?”
“Ugh…”
Is there a thievery academy somewhere that I don’t know about? Why do these low-level thieves always spout the same lines?
Lir and I let out a sigh simultaneously as we checked the surroundings.
At this moment, Lir’s expression stood out vividly. It radiated pure disdain and annoyance, sending a chill down my spine.
Those fools who called her merchandise must have irritated her.
Even if I didn’t ask, she’d probably deal with them anyway.
“Must not kill. Dead bodies mean guards come, investigations happen, and cleaning up the mess is a hassle. Let’s fully enjoy this holiday, alright?”
“Alright.”
From her face alone, it seems like she doesn’t know…
“Boss, what are they saying?”
“Killing them? What nonsense. Though old and not as good as before, I used to be a well-known adventurer. You ever heard of Ax-Hand…”
Fwoosh!
A sudden streak of pure white light slashes down in the dim alley.
Electricity spreads from beneath Lir’s feet, piercing their shoes and traveling up their peripheral nerves, burning their senses as they surrounded us.
The smell of ozone spreads through the air.
Dim flickers of lightning crackle in the spots where the white light passed.
“…Wow.”
I can’t help but mutter under my breath in admiration of the light Lir summoned.
There was something distinctly different about it than her usual lightning.
Not only has the speed at which her magic transforms into lightning increased, but the phenomenon of the lightning spreading into the air has visibly diminished, and its purity is much higher.
Though I have no business teaching or complimenting anyone, I can feel that Lir’s level has far surpassed what I saw her do in the dungeon a few days ago.
“Haven’t I improved a bit?”
“…Is it noticeable?”
I felt a comprehensive increase in her abilities. I wondered if her Tier might have gone up.
She smiled while playfully tapping my back and told me to stop teasing her.
Clack!
…That’s definitely going to leave a handprint.
“At twenty-one, reaching the fifth Tier of Storm magic makes you the youngest storm mage among humans.”
Lir happily brushed off my comment, not thinking much of it.
Neither of us realized that today would be the day when the record for the youngest fifth Tier Storm Mage in the Storm School would be rewritten.
