'Garitch should be back soon. I should close the bar for now…'
The thought drifted through Tanaka's mind as he wiped down the counter for the last time. The night had grown old; only a few customers remained, hunched over their drinks. Normally, he closed the bar at midnight, but Garitch had asked him to see a patient later—so ending a bit early was justified.
Tanaka's fingers brushed over the wooden bar, his mind quiet and steady behind the fox mask. He was about to blow out the nearest lantern when—
CRASH.
The sharp clatter of breaking pottery tore through the calm.
Tanaka's head snapped toward the noise.
Nora stood frozen near a table, beer pooling around her feet. A shattered plate lay beside her, a customer drenched from the waist down. The girl trembled, hands shaking violently.
"I—I'm sorry! Something tripped me, I swear, I—"
"Pushed you?" the man barked, shooting to his feet so fast his chair skidded back. "What the hell are you making excuses for, you stupid brat?!"
Nora flinched, clutching her shirt as if trying to fold herself into nothing.
Before the man could advance further, Tanaka was already moving—slipping between tables with soundless, practiced steps. He slid in front of Nora and raised a hand, palm out, gesturing for the mercenary to calm down.
The man blinked in confusion at the figure in the fox mask."…The hell are you supposed to be?"
His companion tugged his sleeve. "I, That's the mute guy. The weird one everyone talks about."
"Oh, that guy?" The mercenary's lip curled. "A mute waiter and stupid kid who can't serve drinks properly, what kind of circus is this?"
He pulled out his notebook with practiced speed, scribbling:
"Calm down. She's just a child. No harm was intended."
He held the notebook up for the man to read.
Instead of calming down, the mercenary scoffed. "You seriously talk by scribbling on a piece of paper? Move aside. I'm not finished with her."
Tanaka didn't move.
For a moment, the tension thickened—hot, suffocating.
The mercenary snarled and reached forward.
Before Tanaka could react—
His mask was ripped off.
The leather strap snapped, the fox mask clattering to the floor.
The mercenary froze.
"What the—"
The customers who still lingered went silent. Nora's breath hitched behind him.
Tanaka's real face—unbandaged, unhidden—was bathed in lanternlight. No more scars. No more bruises. No more convenient disfigurement to distract from his actual features.
A face far too strange and beautiful to belong to a wounded wanderer.
"…You…" the mercenary whispered, stumbling a step back. "What… You... You are...?"
He had a terrified look, his companions held the same look, even the little girl whom he defended a moment ago was afraid of him.
It was understandable, in front of them was none other than the sin Archbishop of pride, his face was already recognized before his supposed demise because of his background as a Vollachian prince, but the news of him being alive caused posters of his wanted face to be scattered across all four nations.
To the point that even people who weren't alive at the time, such as Nora, are capable of recognizing his face.
Tanaka exhaled.
A long, weary sigh.
A sound he hadn't made in weeks. Not in front of other, at least.
He closed his eyes, shoulders drooping slightly as if accepting something inevitable.
Then, for the first time since arriving at the inn—
he spoke.
"…This," he murmured, voice hoarse from disuse, "is really troublesome…"
A small clicking sound came from his pocket as he withdrew a tiny metal capsule. Without hesitation, he placed it on his tongue and swallowed.
Heat shot down his throat immediately—violent, biting.
His body jerked.
Blood welled up in his mouth, spilling past his lips before he could stop it. Then from his nose. Then his eyes.
The world tilted.
His knees hit the floor.
The lanternlight smeared into long, crooked streaks. Voices grew distant, muffled, trembling like echoes underwater.
Darkness crept in—slow at first, then all at once.
___
____
_____
Air rushed into his lungs like a punch.
"—gh!"
Tanaka lurched forward, choking violently. A bitter aftertaste clung to the back of his throat—ghostly residue of the poison, burning as if refusing to fully fade.
He grabbed the counter in front of him, knuckles white.
"Are you okay!?"
A customer sitting across stared at him, startled, halfway through asking for their bill.
He coughed again—dry this time—then snatched the nearest wooden cup and drank its contents in desperate gulps. Water spilled down his chin, cool relief chasing away the lingering heat.
He had gone back.
Slowly, Tanaka lifted his gaze toward the window. The sky beyond was still a waning orange, the sun only just beginning to dip toward the horizon.
Hours earlier.
He wiped his shaking hands on his apron.
"…Troublesome…" he mouthed silently this time, no voice escaping.
*********************************************************************************************************
Nora balanced a wooden tray in her hands, three frothing mugs clinking against each other as she walked toward a table near the back. Closing time was approaching, and most customers had already left. Only a few stubborn drinkers remained.
Just as she reached the last table, her foot suddenly caught on something—an invisible bump, or perhaps someone's outstretched leg.
"Ah—!"
The tray tilted. The mugs began to spill.
But before the liquid could splash over the table—
A blur of movement.
A strong arm wrapped around Nora's waist, steadying her. The other hand caught the tray and the sliding mugs with impossible speed.
The fox-masked man stood behind her, holding both her and the drinks upright without spilling a single drop.
"Tch."One of the seated men clicked his tongue loudly."Be careful, brat. Those are our drinks."
Nora stepped back nervously as Tanaka placed the mugs safely on the table.
One who started everything was a burly human in his late twenties, his knuckles scarred and his shirt was open.
One to his right was also human, leaner but wiry, with jagged teeth.
The last one was a demi-human—doglike ears, a tail loosely swaying behind him, wearing a bandolier of hunting knives across his chest.
"We… we are about to close. Please settle your bill, Mr. customer."
"Huh? A writing?" The man leaned back with a scowl. "I'll leave when I decide to leave."
The lean one muttered. "He's just that mute worker."
Tanaka calmly lifted his notebook, writing quickly.
"Suit yourself. But surely you're not planning to leave without paying… right?"
He angled the notebook toward the man.
The mercenary's eyebrow twitched."What was that, you little piece of sh—"
But the burly one was already standing, rolling his shoulders.
"I'll teach this fox-faced punk how to talk back."
He swung.
A full, heavy punch aimed straight at Tanaka's face.
But—
His fist halted midair.A sharp jolt ran through his arm. His body refused to obey him for a brief instant—like something inside had been tugged, or severed.
"What the—?"
Tanaka tilted his head slightly, slipped past the immobilized swing with fluid grace, and drove a straight punch right into the mercenary's jaw.
CRACK.
The man dropped to the floor, eyes wide in shock.
"Huh…?" he mumbled, clutching his face.
Behind Tanaka, Nora gasped, tugging on his shirt tightly. "J-James… I—"
Tanaka snapped a page in front of her.
"Go call for help."
She nodded and ran.
Since the beginning, he watched, the fucker who looks like their leader was the one who tripped the little girl, he probably was seeking some excuse to complain in order to get his drinks for free.
'Making me die for such stupid reason...'
Tanaka clenched his fists and stepped back twice, giving himself room. His stance shifted—low, guarded, precise.
The burly mercenary wiped blood from his lip, shaking with fury.
"Is that all you got, you bastard!?"
He charged again.
He was stronger. More experienced. A trained mercenary.
But he was also predictable, all of them were predictable to Tanaka, as long as they didn't reach the superhuman realm, he can dodge their attacks.
The second mercenary lunged with a dagger, hoping to catch Tanaka from the side.
His body suddenly seized mid-step.
"What—?! My legs—!"
Tanaka had flicked his fingers subtly, the instant the opening appeared, he rammed his knee into the man's balls.
The mercenary folded like paper.
"ANIKI!" the demi-human shouted, leaping forward with surprising agility.
Tanaka grabbed the nearest chair and swung it with both hands.
SMASH.
Wood shattered across the demi-human's head, sending him crashing into the table and toppling mugs everywhere.
The burly mercenary roared and came at him again, fists swinging.
And again—his body stuttered.A half-second freeze.
"What is this?!" he barked. "When I'm about to hit that son of a bitch, my body suddenly freezes!"
Tanaka didn't respond.He simply stood there—silent, still—waiting for the next lunge.Either they'd charge him together…or, if luck favored him for once, they'd flee.
No such luck.
A sudden weight slammed into his back.
WHAM.
His face hit the floorboards. His arms were wrenched behind him before he could react.
"Aniki, I got the bastard!" a voice crowed from above, breath hot and sour against Tanaka's ear.
A fourth one.Hidden.He'd miscounted.
"Good work, Colin," the burly mercenary growled, looming over him. "Hold that piece of shit tight."
Tanaka struggled, but the man on his back had both arms pinned, knees digging painfully into his spine. His fingers clawed toward the inside of his coat—toward the poison capsule he kept for emergencies.
But his wrists were trapped.He couldn't reach it.
"I don't know what petty trick you used…" the leader snarled, raising his foot. "…but I'll make sure you regret making a fool out of—"
A deep voice cut through the room like steel drawn from a sheath.
"That's enough."
All four mercenaries turned.
Tall. Straight-backed.A cloak marked with the insignia of the Dragon Kingdom.
He didn't hesitate.
With one arm, he grabbed the man pinning Tanaka and hurled him aside like a sack of grain.
Colin crashed into a table, wood splintering beneath him.
"What the—who the hell do you think you—"
The mercenary's words choked off in his throat the moment he saw the man clearly. His eyes dropped to the knight's uniform. Recognition—and fear—spread across his face.
"An… Aniki—he's—he's a royal knight!"
The three remaining mercenaries scrambled over each other in their rush to escape, tripping, swearing, and shoving as they fled out into the street.
Silence swelled in their wake.
Tanaka's arms, now free, immediately flew to his face. He clutched his fox mask tightly, ensuring it hadn't slipped off during the scuffle. His hands trembled—not from fear, but from the instinctive dread of being unmasked.
Footsteps approached.
"Are you okay?" a familiar, warm voice asked.
Tanaka looked up to see Garitch rushing toward him, Nora clinging to his sleeve with wide, frightened eyes.
Garitch let out a shaky breath. "Thank god… Nora ran to find help—luckily, a knight happened to be nearby."
Nora nodded quickly, her red hair bouncing. "I–I didn't know what else to do…"
Tanaka gave a small shake of his head, a silent 'I'm fine,' though his chest was still tight from the sudden attack.
He reached for his notebook to write his thanks to his savior. His pencil scratched half a sentence before he froze.
The knight stepped forward.
"I should introduce myself," he said with a polite bow. "My name is Tristan Priam[1], knight of the Dragon Kingdom of Lugunica."
Tanaka's hand stopped moving.
The man didn't have any human facial feature, he had cat ears but he wasn't a demi human, his fur was black and white like a tuxedo wrapped around a white cloak. His eyes were golden and he had a muscular build wrapped in his tailored knight uniform, his tail flickering from behind.
His breath hitched behind the mask.
He knew that person.
[1] You guys probably forgot about him, he's that guy from the royal selection , the one that mc beat while crashing out.