One of the guards cleared his throat—loudly. Deliberately.
The sound snapped Akiha out of his spiraling thoughts. He straightened a little too fast, shoulders stiff, flinching before he could stop himself.
Right. We're still standing in front of the gate like idiots.
He shifted his weight, and his hand brushed against the side of his pants.
He froze.
Something was there.
Not the fabric. Inside it.
Carmen…
Her words echoed back in his mind.
"Check your pocket later. I left you a small gift."
His heartbeat quickened. Carefully—trying not to look suspicious—Akiha slipped his hand into the side pocket of his pants.
There was a small pouch.
Leather. Soft. Definitely not something he owned back on Earth.
He loosened the drawstring just enough to peek inside.
Silver glinted back at him.
Coins.
…No way.
He counted—slowly, discreetly.
Twenty.
Twenty silver-colored coins, all identical, each one heavier than it looked.
Akiha swallowed.
So this is your 'small gift,' huh…
I'm yet to save you, and you already saved me.
He kept his face neutral as he pulled his hand from his pocket. Letting the locals know their origin—as otherworlders—would only attract unwanted attention. And attention was the last thing he wanted.
"Ah—sorry," he said, scratching his cheek in practiced embarrassment. "We were just… figuring something out."
The guards watched him closely.
Akiha reached back into the pouch and pulled out two coins, letting them clink softly in his palm before handing them over.
The guards took them—and blinked.
"…Huh?"
He weighed them, then looked at his partner.
"These aren't small silver coins, lad," the younger guard said slowly. "These are large silver coins."
Akiha stiffened internally.
Large?
The younger guard frowned. "Lad… you know this is way more than the entrance fee, right?"
"Oh—uh," Akiha said, forcing a sheepish laugh. "Is it? Sorry. We're… not very familiar with coins."
That earned him a long, suspicious look.
"You don't look like beggars," the older guard said. "But you don't know how currency works either?"
Fumika shifted beside him, clearly uncomfortable.
Akiha spoke quickly. "We're from a really small village. Mostly bartering. Food for tools, that sort of thing."
It wasn't even a lie. Just… creatively framed.
"And we came here," he added smoothly, "hoping to become adventurers."
Please, he prayed silently.
Let my excessive isekai stories and fantasy RPG knowledge actually save me for once.
The guards exchanged glances.
"…That does happen," the younger guard muttered. "Remote villages and all."
The older guard sighed. "Alright. Listen carefully."
He raised a finger. "Ten bronze make one large bronze. Ten large bronze make one silver. Ten silver make one large silver. Ten large silver make one gold. Ten gold make one large gold."
Akiha nodded, memorizing every word.
"So," the younger guard added, handing one coin back, "the entrance fee's one silver coin per person. Take this back."
He rummaged through a pouch and pressed several coins into Akiha's palm.
"Here. Your change. Eight silver coins."
Akiha blinked. "Th—thank you."
"Welcome to Valenridge," the younger guard said, stepping aside. "Not fancy, but it's safe."
The gates creaked open slightly—enough for them to pass.
"If you're serious about adventuring," he added, "register at the Adventurers' Guild. Guild cards double as identification. It'll save you a coin for each time you enter."
He pointed down a lantern-lit street. "Straight ahead, then left at the stone fountain."
Before they passed through, the younger guard hesitated.
"…You kids look decent," he said gruffly. "Name's Harlan. There's a cheap inn nearby if you need it—"
Harlan told them the direction.
"What's it called?" Fumika asked at last.
"The Bent Spoon."
Akiha nodded. "Thank you. Really."
As they stepped inside the city, Akiha felt it.
A stare.
He glanced back—and caught the older guard's eyes lingering on Fumika. Not openly leering, but not subtle either. The man looked her up and down before slowly turning away, unaware of Akiha's sharp glare.
His stomach twisted.
…I'll remember your face.
Your friend Harlan seemed honest and decent.
But you? Yeah. I'll definitely remember you.
He said nothing. Neither did Fumika—she didn't realize. They simply walked on.
The city was alive despite the late hour. Lanterns bathed the streets in warm light, voices spilled out of taverns, and laughter drifted from open windows above. Some merchants were packing up for the night, while others leaned into the nocturnal crowd, selling skewers and drinks to passersby.
"It's lively," Fumika said quietly.
"Yeah," Akiha replied. "Doesn't feel hostile. That's… nice."
She glanced at him sideways. "So."
"…Yeah?"
"Silver coins."
He stiffened. "What about them?"
She narrowed her eyes. "You just happened to have some silver coins native to this world in your pocket?"
"I told you," he said a little too quickly, averting his gaze, not knowing what to say. "Village. Bartering. Stuff…"
She stopped walking and stared at him.
"…You're a terrible liar, Aki-kun. We haven't even been here for a day, and I never leave your side since."
He let out a quiet sigh. "Okay. I don't actually know how they got there."
That made her stop completely.
"…What?"
"It's… a long story," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "I'll explain later…" he paused. "If I got the chance."
She searched his face for a moment, then nodded once. "Alright. I trust you."
Something warm and unfamiliar settled in his chest.
They walked on.
Then the atmosphere shifted.
The lanterns gradually turned red. The air grew heavy with perfume, replacing the scent of food and smoke. Laughter dipped lower, slower. Women leaned against doorframes in revealing clothes, eyes sharp and openly appraising.
Akiha froze mid-step.
"…Uh."
Fumika stopped beside him.
They both took a look around.
"…Is this," she began carefully, "what I think it is?"
"I think," Akiha said stiffly, "maybe we took a very wrong turn."
Silence stretched between them.
A woman in a low-cut dress caught Akiha's eye—and winked.
Akiha's spine shivered—not in a good way.
Fumika coughed. Loudly. Pointedly.
"…We should keep walking," she said flatly.
"Y-yes," he replied immediately. "Definitely."
They did not look at each other again—at least during their way out of there.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
It wasn't far.
Just a few streets away from the 'busy' district—past a crooked alley and a bakery clearly closing for the night—they spotted a weathered wooden sign swaying gently in the breeze.
'The Bent Spoon'
The painted spoon on the sign was bent nearly into a circle, as if someone had tried—and failed spectacularly—to fold it in half.
"…That's memorable," Fumika said.
"Not in a good way," Akiha replied. "And seems like we can read it no problem, that's some real Isekai stuff right there."
Warm light spilled from the windows, along with the smell of stew and baked bread. Compared to the chaos of the streets—and the forest they'd fled from—it felt almost unreal.
They stepped inside.
The inn was modest but clean. A few round tables hosted late-night drinkers, a fireplace crackled softly, and a counter—polished smooth by years of use—ran along one wall. Behind it stood an old, chubby man with thinning gray hair and a perpetually rosy face, humming as he wiped down a mug.
He looked up.
"Evenin'. Rooms?"
Akiha nodded. "Yeah. Uh—two rooms, and meals for two, please."
The innkeeper's gaze flicked between them, lingering just long enough to take in their age, their clothes, and their exhaustion.
"Travelers?"
"Something like that," Akiha said.
"It'll be three silver coin per room a night, twenty five copper coins per meal."
Before he could continue, Fumika tugged lightly on Akiha's sleeve and leaned in.
"One room," she whispered. "With two beds."
He blinked. "Huh?"
"To save money," she said matter-of-factly. "We don't know how long your coins will last."
He hesitated.
She… was right.
We should be frugal with our spending, at least before we secured a way of sustainable income.
But,
It wasn't like they hadn't shared rooms before—back when they were still neighbors, younger—with parents just a wall away.
But this was… different.
"Y-Yeah," he said finally. "One room. Two beds, please."
The innkeeper chuckled knowingly, as if he'd already filled in the gaps himself.
"Got just the thing—but it'll costs you three silver and fifty copper instead."
…Still a lot cheaper than two separate rooms. Akiha thought, running a simple calculation in his head.
"We'll take it." he finally replied.
The innkeeper slid a key across the counter. "Second floor. Room seven. Meals'll be brought up when they're ready—unless you wanna eat downstairs."
"Well, thanks," Akiha said. "Please bring it up."
"Will do. You kids look beat. Rest well."
"Thank you," Fumika said politely.
"Oh," the innkeeper added. "Well at the back, and buckets before the kitchen. If you need 'em."
Akiha simply nodded.
They took their key and headed upstairs.
The second floor was quiet, the sounds of the common room reduced to a distant hum. Wooden floorboards creaked beneath their feet as they walked down the narrow hallway, lanterns casting warm, uneven light.
Room seven… room seven—
There it is.
Akiha unlocked the door.
The room was simple.
Two single beds, neatly made. A small table by the window. One chair. A small drawer. An empty washbasin in the corner. Nothing fancy—but clean, dry, and undeniably safe.
The door closed behind them with a soft click.
Silence followed.
Not the comfortable kind.