Eshe was a troublemaker. As they shopped for groceries at the night market, she couldn’t let even a single purchase go by without a fight.
"Three hundred silver for one apple? That’s too expensive!"
"ⴇⴃⴝⳖ!"
"It’s small and not in great condition. Give me a better price!"
"Ⲝⴇⴝⴇ?"
"What is this? You’re totally ripping us off just because we’re outsiders!"
"Eshe."
"Let’s just buy it. They say fruits and vegetables are expensive in this region since it’s winter all year round."
Eshe whipped her head around. "Oh, really? President, can you understand what these people are saying?"
"...No. It’s just obvious, isn’t it?"
Simon navigated the night market, trying to keep the unpredictable Eshe in check. It was a rather primitive place. There was no such thing as mana lighting; candles and oil lamps illuminated the stalls. The people were dressed in roughly processed animal hides.
’Hmm.’
A grim atmosphere hung in the air. The men here were fully armed, even in the marketplace. Their bodies were covered in scars, a clear sign that battles were frequent. The women walked in groups with their children, openly breastfeeding their babies without a hint of shame.
"Aack! Don’t look!" Eshe cried, hurriedly covering Simon’s eyes to protect the native’s privacy.
In any case, visiting the Frigod Autonomous Region right after the hyper-advanced Ivory Tower was a strange experience. Of course, a place like this had its own unique charm.
"Oh. Outsiders. You."
Occasionally, they met someone who could speak the continental language. A native approached Simon, his words broken. "Came. From where."
"We came from the Dresden region."
"Du... Du... Durezde."
"Dresden." In that moment, he finally understood the accent of Hongfeng, the Curses professor from the plains.
"Careful. You all. Die," the man warned, making a gesture of slitting his throat with the tip of his spear. "Many. Monsters. Break. Invade. Village."
"Ah, I see."
"Again. Anytime. Could break. Village."
The worry was etched deep into the villagers’ faces.
A shrill whistle pierced the air.
"&%#@!"
At the sound, the expressions of the men in the market grew grim. Gripping their weapons, they broke into a run.
"Be careful, outsider!" the villager who had been speaking to Simon called out, hefting his own weapon before sprinting off.
Watching them go, Eshe crossed her arms. "It seems life is hard for everyone, no matter where you go."
"It does," Simon agreed.
He could see a monster that had breached the village entrance thrashing violently. But it was no match for their numbers and soon fell, riddled with the natives’ spears. Without hesitation, the villagers beheaded the creature, bathing in its gushing blood as the crowd roared in triumph. War with monsters, it seemed, was a part of daily life across the continent.
’Still, I’ve never seen a monster like that before,’ Simon mused.
"Simon, over here!" Eshe called out. "The cabbages are huge!"
Wandering through the night market, they had managed to gather most of their ingredients. Only one thing remained.
"Meat!" Eshe declared. "Meat is an absolute must!"
But they still hadn’t found the most crucial item. Perhaps because it was so rare, they couldn’t find a single stall that properly handled fresh meat.
Just as the two were scouring the market, they heard the rhythmic ’thud’ of a cleaver slicing through flesh.
"Right there! Simon!" Eshe’s ears perked up, and she darted ahead.
"Hey, wait up! Let’s go together!" Simon called, hurrying after her.
Tucked away on the outskirts of the market was a small butcher shop. A plump reindeer lay dismembered on a worktable, its meat being expertly sliced by the butcher.
The man’s attire set him apart from the other villagers. He wore a heavy work apron and tall boots.
"Hello!" Eshe chirped as she ran in.
The butcher looked up at her and smiled warmly. "ⴋÐⴝⴇ!"
"Ah, the language barrier strikes again!" she lamented.
"Are you from outside Frigod?" the butcher asked in the continental tongue.
Eshe’s eyes widened in surprise. "Wow! You can speak our language!"
"Hahaha! That I can!" he boomed. "I lived in the Frigod Autonomous Region when I was a boy, then worked in Shahed as a young man."
"Wow, that’s amazing! It’s so great to meet you!"
Simon hung back, observing the butcher from a distance.
’This man...’
He reeked of blood, and not just in the literal sense. His face was simple and honest, but the sturdy forearms visible beneath his rolled-up sleeves, the prominent veins, and the tightly coiled muscles—all honed for combat—told a different story. The aura he projected was anything but ordinary. This was not a man who simply ran a butcher shop in some remote village.
’Who is he?’
While Simon remained on high alert, the atmosphere between the butcher and Eshe was nothing but cheerful.
"The reindeer meat is excellent today!" the butcher announced proudly. "I caught it myself just a few hours ago!"
"You caught it yourself?" Eshe asked.
"It’s my motto," he said with a grin. "I only butcher game I’ve hunted myself."
Simon tilted his head, intrigued. ’A hunter who’s also a butcher. Is he just an expert monster hunter?’
Though still uncertain, he followed Eshe’s lead and approached the stall. The man greeted him just as warmly.
"Welcome! You must be the young lady’s friend."
"Yes."
The butcher smiled and made a fist—a common greeting in Shahed. Simon returned the gesture, bumping his knuckles against the man’s.
"You two don’t look like the type to wander into a rough place like this. What brings you so far from home?"
"Oh, well, we—!" Eshe began, but Simon quickly cut her off.
"We’re tourists."
"Ah, I see!" the butcher exclaimed. "It’s tough to get a tourist permit for Frigod, but once you’re in, you can experience the grandeur of nature and the high density of mana. We have plenty of ancient ruins, too!"
Eshe, taking the cue, immediately played along. "It’s a fantastic place to visit! But I am so sick of monster meat!"
"Then you’ve come to the right place! I’ll slice up some proper reindeer meat for you both!"
He hefted a large cleaver and, with practiced skill, carved off a thick slab of meat, placing it before them. The flesh was a deep crimson, marbled with milky-white fat. It looked so fresh it seemed to pulse with life.
"This is the finest cut," the butcher declared. "You only get one piece like this from an entire reindeer!"
Eshe leaned back, a troubled look on her face. They had already spent a small fortune on other ingredients, and she knew a prime cut would be expensive. "W-We don’t have that much money."
"Just 800 silver," the butcher offered. "I’ll give it to you for less than the usual price."
"It’s just nice to see some outsiders for a change."
"Really? Wow! Thank you so much!" Eshe immediately paid him and took the meat.
Surprised by the unexpected generosity, Simon bowed his head. "Thank you."
"Haha, don’t mention it! Oh, that reminds me," the butcher said, as if a thought had just struck him. "I’m actually looking for someone. By any chance, have you seen a blonde girl around your age in this village?"
Eshe tilted her head. "Blonde? There are plenty of blondes on the continent."
Simon’s gaze sharpened. "Why do you ask?"
"Hahaha! Just an acquaintance of mine," the butcher said breezily. "She was supposed to be in this village. We came here together, but I haven’t seen her, and I’m starting to worry."
He didn’t press them further, so Simon let the matter drop.
"Thank you! Come again!"
"Hope you sell a lot!" Eshe waved enthusiastically.
As they were leaving, Simon bumped fists with the butcher one last time.
"I can tell just by looking," the butcher said, his eyes crinkling. "Our gentleman here is a very fine warrior!"
"I could say the same about you," Simon retorted with a smile.
"My, you have a sharp eye!" The butcher’s grin widened. "But I’m no ’fine’ warrior."
"I’m just a butcher who slices meat."
With that, they said their goodbyes and parted ways. The butcher waved kindly until they were out of sight, then turned back to the reindeer carcass. Meat was a precious commodity here, and as soon as he resumed his work, villagers began to gather, watching with hungry eyes.
"I don’t have any continental currency. Can I pay with these seashells?" one asked.
"Of course. Absolutely!" the butcher replied with a smile, accepting trades that were a clear loss for him.
The villagers left with bright smiles, clutching their precious reindeer meat. Before long, the carcass on the stall was stripped down to bare bones.
He finished his work and wiped his blood-stained hands on a cloth, a look of satisfaction on his face.
"I see it, yet I fail to comprehend."
The man who had summoned him to the Frigod Autonomous Region approached. He was a gentleman in a tailored suit and a long hat, with a single, unblinking pupil in the center of his face.
"You raised such a fuss about leaving early, only to come here and play at being a butcher?" the One-Eyed Gentleman inquired.
"I told you," the butcher said, lighting a cigar. "This is my ritual. An important routine before a job."
"...Very well. As long as you complete your task, I suppose it is of no concern to me." The One-Eyed Gentleman tapped the ground with his cane. "More importantly, I am told Kizen’s students have already entered the region."
"Oh, have they?"
"Did any children happen to come here?"
"They did," the butcher replied nonchalantly.
The One-Eyed Gentleman’s single pupil dilated. "They came? Are you certain?"
"A couple of kids from outside Frigod. Don’t know if they were from Kizen. They were wearing fur-lined robes."
"Wait! Could it be..."
"I’m not an idiot. It wasn’t the blonde girl, our target. I even asked them about her, and they said they didn’t know."
"Platinum blonde, you mean! And the other one! Surely you have not forgotten?"
"Who was that again?"
"Simon Polentia! The boy with blue hair!"
The butcher scrunched his face, trying to recall the image. He had definitely seen a flash of blue hair at the edge of one of the robes. "Oh, right. He had blue hair."
"You imbecile!"
"Haha, don’t get so worked up," the butcher chuckled. "I only focus on the people I’m going to ’slice up’. I remember the blonde girl because I plan on slicing her. But that... what’s-his-name... you said to capture him alive, didn’t you? How am I supposed to remember someone I can’t even slice? This is your fault."
"You fool! This was a golden opportunity to secure Simon Polentia without clashing with the Kizen professors!" The One-Eyed Gentleman, seething with rage, hastily raised a communication crystal. "Which way did they go?"
"They were just strolling off that way. About twenty minutes ago, I’d say."
"All units, listen!" the Gentleman commanded into the crystal. "Simon Polentia is in this village. All personnel, move to the eight o’clock position! Find the teenage boy with blue hair at all costs!"
With his command, assassins lurking in the shadows launched themselves into the air, their eyes glinting fiercely as they leaped across the rooftops.
’It’s too late. He’s surely escaped by now.’ The One-Eyed Gentleman held little hope.
But a moment later, a voice crackled through the crystal.
—Target spotted at the eight o’clock position. Teenage boy with blue hair.
—He’s wearing a school uniform underneath. Target confirmed.
They had actually found him. Perhaps it was just one of those days. The One-Eyed Gentleman raised the communication crystal again. "I am on my way. Capture him by any means necessary before I arrive!"
The assassins landed before the blue-haired boy with a series of soft thuds.
"Found him. It’s definitely the target."
"Requesting permission to engage."
The boy turned around.
He tilted his head, then a smirk spread across his face. "What are all these moths?"
Behind the assassins encircling him, a web of sinister, glistening threads was already closing in.

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