In the blink of an eye, everything changed.
Steel clashed—then clattered.
The old man moved with a speed that mocked logic, his form blurring like a smudge on reality. I didn't even register the beginning of his motion—only the aftermath. Two attackers sprawled on the ground, twitching and groaning, their weapons stripped from them as if snatched by a phantom.
He stood there, triumphant, brushing imaginary dust off his shoulder. A wine bottle twirled effortlessly in his grasp as he took a long, satisfied sip. "Easy," he muttered, striking a flamboyant victory pose, as if this whole scuffle had merely been a light warm-up before lunch.
My jaw slackened in disbelief.
This... geezer?
No—this monster in the skin of an old drunk.
But just as I was beginning to reframe my understanding of him, his grin faltered. His eyes dropped to his shirt.
"...Crap!" he yelped in horror, pawing at the stain spreading across the fabric. "My clothes! They're so dirty!"
His voice took on a tragic note. "Oh no! If Miss Judy sees this, she'll know I drank alcohol…"
He sulked, kicking at a loose pebble.
You're holding the bottle. You reek of it. You fought with it in your hand.
I sighed internally. One doesn't need to see the shirt to know you're drinking.
And yet, I couldn't look at him without cracking a smile.
This eccentric, wine-stained man just dismantled two trained attackers without breaking a sweat—and now, he was sulking over his laundry.
Then he turned to me with a sparkle in his eye.
"Well, what do you think of this old man? Pretty cool, aren't I?"
I couldn't stop the spark in my voice. "S-super!" I squeaked, eyes gleaming with honest admiration.
His grin widened.
"I like you, child. Want to be my disciple?"
The question hung in the air—half serious, half jest. And for a fleeting second, I hesitated.
Becoming the disciple of this guy…?
But the thought of my Master's face—the expression she'd make if she heard I switched teachers—snapped me back to reality.
"Eh? O-oh, I can't. I already have a Master."
The old man didn't miss a beat. "Oh, is that so," he chuckled, scratching his chest. "Well, too bad then."
There was a flicker of disappointment—but it passed as quickly as it came, buried beneath his usual nonchalance.
I unfolded the map with trembling fingers, hoping the old man's knowledge extended beyond combat theatrics. "Excuse me, old man… do you know where I am?"
He snatched the map with a glint in his eye. "Here." He jabbed a finger at a spot on the parchment.
I leaned in. My eyes lit up. "It's near the House of Wine!"
Relief bloomed in my chest. Ronald would be there—waiting.
I looked up at him, hope tugging at my tone. "Can you please lead me to the House of Wine, old man?"
He arched an eyebrow. "Why do you want to go there, child?"
"I'm going to meet a friend of mine. He's a disciple there."
The old man's grin turned sly. "Oh? Really?"
I nodded, brushing off his teasing gaze. "Yup! My master allowed me to visit him today."
"Well then, you better hurry before lunch. Let me guide you there."
"Thanks, old man!"
And just like that, he became my escort—albeit an unpredictable one.
When we arrived, I froze. The outer wall of the House of Wine bore a striking resemblance to the House of Aum. The surface shimmered slightly under the light. Intrigued, I reached out and pressed a hand against it.
Smooth. Cold. Unknown material.
This wasn't stone. Nor wood. It felt… manufactured.
"Every Master House exterior barrier is the same, little girl," the old man said, watching me with a knowing look.
I nodded. So it's deliberate. Another layer in the mystery of the Scorpion base.
"The first time I came to the House of Aum," I muttered, "all I saw was a mikan house."
The old man blinked. "Oh… Is that so. Well, I did hear some rumors that the Poison Master loves creating illusions around her house."
"Yup," I nodded grimly. "Sometimes I almost starved to death because of her illusions."
"Starve?" he echoed, laughing under his breath.
"I get hungry really fast," I admitted. "When my stomach rumbles, I head for the kitchen—but Master would cast an illusion both inside and outside. I'd walk in circles for hours. If Lady Nozomi hadn't found me, I would've become a skeleton by now."
The old man howled with laughter.
"Must be tough," he said between chuckles.
"It was!" I pouted, though I couldn't help but smile too.
We approached the entrance. A hand-painted banner hung from the eaves—grapevines spiraled delicately around a vintage wine logo, elegant as a calligraphy scroll.
"It has a wine logo," I murmured, momentarily entranced.
Bang.
The serenity shattered.
The old man kicked the door open like he was storming a bandit camp. I flinched, scrambling to follow him.
"Ah! Old man! You can't just rush in like that. What if the Master gets angry?"
"If he does," the old man shrugged, "I'll just bash him up!"
I nearly fainted. "No! You can't do that! You'll get hurt or even killed. Come back, old man!"
But he was already ten steps ahead, barreling in like a storm. My legs struggled to keep up.
"Huff… Puff…"
My lungs burned. My feet finally halted—and that's when I realized.
There were no buildings.
Just vines.
Endless, sun-drenched rows of grapevines stretched across the horizon, soaking in the light.
"This is… a grape farm?"
"The best of the best in the world, child," the old man said proudly.
He plucked a bunch of grapes off the vine, popped one into his mouth, and hummed in satisfaction. "Yum!"
"Don't eat someone else's grapes!" I snapped, scandalized.
He ignored me.
Instead, he marched over and—without warning—scooped me up into his arms.
"Eh!?" I gasped, flailing instinctively.
"Hold on tight," he warned, grinning like a maniac. "It might get a little bumpy, child."
"Bumpy?" I blinked. "Wait—"
And then we launched.
He jumped.
The wind screamed around me. My heart leapt into my throat. The vineyard vanished below like a painted backdrop peeling away.
"Ah!! Save me!!" I shrieked, eyes squeezed shut as the sky swallowed us whole.