「 ✦ Rimuru Tempest ✦ 」
I adjusted my black coat as the carriage rolled down the cobblestone path. My silver watch caught a glint of sunlight streaming through the window—a little past noon. The sunset-tinted sunglasses I wore made everything look like it was bathed in golden hour, which was honestly pretty relaxing.
"You know, Daisy," I said, glancing at my white-furred companion who was currently sporting a custom-made silk scarf that cost more than most people's rent, "I'm starting to think the Holy Church is slacking."
She looked up at me with those judgemental blue eyes, as if to say here we go again.
"No, seriously. It's been over a week since that whole mess at the ball. You'd think they'd have wanted posters with my face plastered all over the continent by now." I ran a hand through my ponytail, the silver embroidery holding it in place feeling cool against my fingers. "I mean, I did kind of embarrass them. That's gotta sting their pride, right?"
Daisy yawned, clearly unimpressed by my concerns about becoming a notorious criminal.
The carriage hit a bump, and I instinctively reached out to steady the ridiculously overpriced cat carrier I'd bought for this trip. Not that Daisy ever used it—she preferred to lounge on the velvet seats like the spoiled princess she was.
"Maybe they're still trying to figure out what actually happened," I mused, watching the countryside roll by. "Or maybe they're planning something big! You know how these guys are."
We passed through a small village where kids ran alongside our carriage, probably trying to get a glimpse of whoever was rich enough to afford such fancy transportation. I gave them a little wave, which sent them into excited giggles.
"Though honestly," I continued, "part of me is kind of relieved. Being a wanted man sounds exhausting..." I shuddered theatrically. "Can you imagine me sleeping in a barn, Daisy? I don't ever feel broke again."
She flicked her tail, which I took as agreement.
A few hours into the journey, we stopped at a roadside tavern for lunch. I ordered something called "hunter's stew" that turned out to be surprisingly good, while Daisy got her own plate of what the kitchen claimed was their finest fish.
"Sir," the tavern owner approached hesitantly, "if you don't mind me asking... are you someone important? Maybe from the capital?"
I considered the question while Daisy delicately picked at her meal. "What passes as important to you?"
"Well, it's just... you have that look, you know? Like nobility or maybe a wealthy merchant's son."
"Something like that," I said with a smile that didn't really answer anything.
The man nodded knowingly and didn't press further, but I caught him whispering to his wife about "quality folk" and "proper manners."
Back on the road, I found myself getting restless. The countryside was pretty enough, but after a while it all started looking the same. Daisy had curled up for a nap, her silk scarf slightly askew in a way that was annoyingly adorable.
"You know what's weird?" I said to her sleeping form. "I keep expecting something dramatic to happen. Like bandits attacking the carriage or mysterious assassins following us or something. But it's just been so~ awfully mundane."
As if the universe heard me and decided to prove a point, we hit another bump—this one big enough to wake Daisy and make her give me an accusatory look.
"Okay, okay, my bad. I shouldn't have said anything," I muttered.
We passed through two more villages before the afternoon really started wearing on. Each one was basically the same routine—people staring, whispering, kids getting excited about the fancy carriage. In the second village, a local merchant actually tried to flag us down, probably hoping to make some kind of business connection.
I had the driver keep going. I was trying to maintain some air of unknowable here.
The third village was different though. When we rolled through the main street, I noticed something that made me sit up straighter. Wanted posters. Fresh ones, from the look of them, plastered on a notice board near what looked like the local magistrate's office.
"Hold up," I called to the driver, and we came to a stop.
I climbed out of the carriage, ignoring the immediate attention from passersby, and walked over to get a better look. Daisy poked her head out of the carriage window, probably wondering what was worth interrupting her post-lunch nap.
The posters were... not what I expected. Sure, there were the usual suspects, but right there in the center, in a spot reserved for the most serious criminals, was a face I didn't recognize. Some guy with blue hair and pale skin, offering a bounty that made my eyes widen behind my sunglasses.
"Keith?" I read aloud. Wanted for multiple counts of murder, suspected blood cult affiliation, and crimes against the faith. The bounty amount had so many zeros I had to count twice to make sure I was reading it right. But what really caught my attention was the date. The poster was barely dry—issued just yesterday.
"Huh," I said, looking around for any sign of my own face on the board. Nothing. Not even a mention of the incident at the ball. "That's... actually kind of offensive."
A local man noticed me studying the board and wandered over, probably curious about the well-dressed stranger.
"Terrible business, that Keith fellow," he said, shaking his head. "They say he wiped out an entire orphanage up north. Twenty-four people, including the nuns. Sick bastard."
I felt something cold settle in my stomach. "An orphanage?"
"Aye. Holy Light Orphanage, it was called. Beautiful place, took in kids from all over. Now it's just..." He shuddered. "They say the scene was so bad that even veterans couldn't look at it without losing their lunch."
I stared at the sketch on the poster again. The face looked almost pleasant—undoubtedly handsome, even. Not the kind of person you'd expect to be capable of something so horrific.
"Any idea where he might be headed?" I asked.
The man shrugged. "Could be anywhere by now. That's the scary part. Guy like that, he could be in the next town over and you'd never know it."
I thanked him and walked back to the carriage. Twenty-four people. An entire orphanage. And somehow this Keith person was making headlines while I couldn't even get a proper wanted poster.
Damn right.
"What kind of messed up world is this, Daisy?" I muttered as we got back on the road.
She meowed in what I chose to interpret as agreement.
The rest of the journey passed in relative quiet, and by the time we finally reached the outskirts of Lake Town of Ur, the sun was starting to sink toward the horizon, painting the sky orange and pink that almost matched my sunglasses.
The town itself was built right up against the water, with wooden docks stretching out into the lake and houses that seemed to grow right out of the shoreline.
It was definitely the kind of place that attracted tourists, and from what I could see, business was good. Boats dotted the water, some fishing, others just enjoying the evening. The whole scene had a peaceful, almost idyllic quality that made me want to find a nice restaurant with a lake view and just relax for a few days.
"Look at that, Daisy," I said, stepping out of the carriage and immediately feeling the eyes of half the town turn toward us.
Daisy looked around with interest from her perch in the designer bag I'd settled her into. She seemed to approve of the lake—probably because it meant fresh fish was likely on the menu.
Walking through the town was like being in a parade, just like I'd expected. People stopped their conversations to stare, shopkeepers came out of their stores, and I'm pretty sure I heard at least three different people whisper "Who is that?" as we passed.
"This is why I love small towns," I muttered to Daisy. "Everyone's so attentive."
It was definitely worth overdressing.
A group of teenage girls actually started following us at a distance, giggling and whispering to each other. One of them worked up the courage to ask for an autograph, though she seemed disappointed when I explained I wasn't actually a famous performer or noble.
"Are you sure?" she asked, looking skeptical. "You look really expensive."
I couldn't argue with that logic.
We passed a marketplace where vendors were starting to pack up for the day, though several called out to try and catch my attention. One woman selling jewelry held up a pair of earrings and shouted something about "matching your style, sir!" I gave her a polite wave but kept walking—the diamond threaders I was wearing probably cost more than her entire stock.
The lakeside promenade was busy with evening strollers, couples holding hands, families with kids feeding the ducks. Normal people living normal lives.
We wandered around for maybe half an hour, taking in the sights and letting me get a feel for the town. It was nice, honestly. Peaceful in a way that the capital definitely wasn't. Just a lakeside town going about its evening routine.
Eventually, though, I decided it was time to find somewhere to stay. The Water Sprite Inn had been recommended by the carriage driver as "the finest establishment in town," and from the outside, it looked like the kind of place that would meet my standards.
The building was larger than most of the surrounding structures, made of what looked like good quality wood with decorative carvings around the windows and doors. A sign hung out front showing a stylized water sprite dancing above waves.
The moment I walked through the door, the entire atmosphere changed. The inn owner's wife, a middle-aged woman with graying hair and laugh lines around her eyes, took one look at me and her customer service smile transformed into something approaching reverence.
"Good evening, sir!" she practically sang, hurrying over. "Welcome to the Water Sprite Inn! How may we serve you today?"
"Just looking for a room," I said casually, but she was already nodding enthusiastically.
"Of course, of course! Our finest suite, naturally. Lake view, private balcony, complimentary meals—" She was practically tripping over herself to list amenities. "We have twenty-four hour room service, the finest linens in the region, and our chef can prepare anything you desire!"
"That sounds perfect," I said, mostly because I wanted to stop her before she hyperventilated.
The staff appeared like magic—someone to take my coat, someone to offer refreshments, someone to coo over Daisy who was still perched regally in her designer bag. I was used to good service, but this was bordering on discomfort. One of the staff members actually asked if Daisy needed her own room.
"She'll be fine with me," I said, trying not to laugh at the mental image of Daisy having her own suite.
"Of course, sir! We'll have a special cat bed sent up, and our kitchen can prepare fresh fish whenever she desires!"
We made our way through the main tavern area toward the stairs, and I let my eyes wander over the other guests. Typical travel crowd, nothing particularly interesting. The tavern had that warm, welcoming atmosphere that comes from good food and better ale, with the kind of noise that made the people here seem regulars.
Then I felt it.
A familiar presence. Actually, two familiar presences that made something cold settle in my stomach. It was like a chill—the sudden recognition of auras I'd encountered before.
I turned to look to my left, almost without thinking, and time seemed to slow down.
There, sitting at a corner table with half-finished meals in front of them, were two people I hadn't expected to see again so soon. Two people who probably had very good reasons to want me dead.
Hajime Nagumo, with his distinctive white hair and that eyepatch, was frozen mid-bite with a fork halfway to his mouth. Beside him, Yue had gone completely still with an unreadable expression.
Both of them were staring at me with the kind of wide-eyed shock that suggested they were having the same "oh shit" moment I was.
The recognition was mutual and instant.
For a heartbeat, none of us moved. The cheerful chatter of the tavern continued around us, completely oblivious to the sudden tension that had just entered the room.
Then Hajime's fork clattered to his plate.