After Helga's son disappeared completely into the alley, Muel headed inside the guild.

As was the case in most cities, the adventurers' guild was especially noisy here. It was loud, filled with shouting and laughter.

“Did you see those eyes on him?”

“Man, I almost wet myself when he looked at me.”

“Did you hear he can read? I still use the reading service, you know.”

“Yeah, I have to admit I'm a bit envious about that.”

“The nerve of that guy. Barbarian scum.”

It seemed like everyone was talking about that barbarian.

He can read? It must be him—the son of Helga and Klaus.

In the Valterre Ducal family, there were people occasionally born with violet eyes. Ordinary people didn’t know about it, and even most nobles didn’t, but within the family, those eyes were considered very rare and precious.

Perhaps it was because that color was also associated with royalty. Information about high nobility was often only shared among themselves, so Muel, just a mere minstrel, couldn't know for sure.

But one thing was certain—the violet eyes only appeared in the royal family and the Valther Ducal House.

At least, that’s what Muel had gathered from all the whispers and tales.

Thinking back on the past, Muel felt rage boil within him again. He clenched his fists without realizing it.

He wasn’t always like this, drifting from town to town, singing on street corners. He used to be a poet, one who sang about love in the luxurious estates of nobles, mingling with beautiful ladies and those of high social standing.

Muel relaxed his grip, slowly unclenching his fist, and tried to refocus on his surroundings.

As he made his way to the reception desk, listening to others’ conversations, a group of adventurers saw him and smirked.

“Oh, look, it’s the minstrel.”

“Where’s that lady with the great figure? You’re here alone?”

“How much for her for the night?”

“Pfft, as if she’d take you, even if you gave her gold coins! Clean yourself up first, man. How long has it been since you bathed?”

It wasn’t uncommon for women traveling from city to city to end up selling themselves, especially if they were part of a traveling troupe or minstrels. They often offered themselves to the local big shots rather than common folk. But to most ordinary people, they were just that—women selling their bodies.

Muel passed by them, putting on an awkward, troubled expression.

One of the men, a bald guy with a scarred face, stared at Muel.

Suppressing his flinch, Muel forced an awkward smile.

The bald man, looking around at the other adventurers, suddenly shouted.

“Shut up, you filthy bastards! Your heads are full of crap, that’s why you never make any money!”

The bald man's shout caused someone to grumble in protest, a strange moan escaping them.

Muel worried the trouble might end up involving him, but none of the men seemed to argue back.

“If we can’t have a little fun, what else are we supposed to do all day? It gets boring,” one of the adventurers muttered from the corner, prompting laughter all around.

“If you're bored, stop making our city look bad and just take a request,” the bald man grumbled, frowning again. At that, the men returned to their previous small talk.

Despite his appearance, the bald man seemed to have some respect among the guild.

Muel gave a slight bow and hurried to the reception desk. He chose the most timid-looking clerk and approached her.

“Hello. Um, I’ve just arrived here a few days ago... I’m really sorry to trouble you, but I was hoping you might be able to help me find a place to stay.”

Not every city offered this, but some guilds arranged accommodations for traveling minstrels at inns they contracted with. The inns were cheap, but that was usually because they were poorly maintained or located in out-of-the-way areas that didn’t attract many guests.

The guild didn’t pay the inns directly; they simply arranged lodgings when there were empty rooms. Muel had stayed in such places many times before.

“Hmm... I’m not sure,” the clerk said hesitantly.

“If it’s just you, I could help, but... with a woman accompanying you, it might be a problem.”

It seemed like she was worried that the woman might bring in clients at the inn.

“We're married. There’s no inappropriate behavior. We've been in this city for days now, and I assure you, there haven’t been any rumors.”

“...”

Still, she seemed to hesitate.

Perhaps she was worried that having a woman around might catch the attention of that barbarian who had just left the guild.

“Please, I beg you. Business hasn’t been good lately, and prices are just too high... We’re struggling to make ends meet. We can’t afford our current place, so tonight, we’ll have to sleep on the streets.”

When Muel began to plead, the bald man spoke up from where he stood a few steps away.

“The inn has plenty of space right now; just let him in.”

“...”

The clerk sighed softly at the bald man’s words.

“You’re too soft-hearted, you know that? One of these days, it’s going to get you into real trouble.”

The clerk looked back at Muel with resignation.

“There is a vacant lodging, but there’s a slight issue. An adventurer from Enorthos is staying there. So...”

The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

“That’s fine! My wife and I have some experience dealing with Enorthos folk. Our work often involves traveling, so we’re used to handling difficult situations. Please, I beg you.”

Muel made his expression as pitiful as possible, using the face he had perfected while singing. The bald man cut in again.

“The weather’s cold lately. They’ll freeze to death if they get kicked out. And besides, that adventurer is heading out on a job tomorrow anyway. He might be gone while this guy is performing, so there’s no issue, is there?”

What? Is that true?

Muel swallowed nervously.

The clerk frowned, glaring at the bald man.

“Honestly! How can you share someone else’s business so freely like that?”

“Well, it's not exactly a secret...”

“Even so, it’s not something you should be blabbing everywhere.”

“Alright, alright. I’ll be careful.”

“Please do.”

The clerk gave the bald man a short scolding, then turned back to Muel.

“How long do you intend to stay in this city? If an adventurer comes back, we might need the space, so an extended stay won’t work.”

“Just a few days.”

“Very well, then.”

After explaining the inn’s location, she added one last warning.

“If you do anything strange while staying there, you’ll be kicked out immediately.”

“Of course. Thank you so much. Really, thank you.”

The clerk looked slightly embarrassed by Muel’s overflowing gratitude.

Not many people seemed to be this thankful.

Muel usually ended his thanks with a simple word or two.

“Was it really so dire? I’m glad I could help, then.”

Muel hurried out of the guild, leaving the smiling clerk behind.

As he headed to the alleyway where they had arranged to meet, he found the dancer waiting.

He had lied when he said they were married. He had never even held her hand.

Not that he ever could—she was a witch.

She wasn't famous enough that her name was recognized everywhere, but she still called herself that.

A witch—someone who defies the laws of this world. Someone everyone avoids and shuns. Even blood relatives, once they find out, would never accept a witch.

No one called themselves a witch unless they truly were one.

Had it not been for his burning desire for revenge, Muel would never have travelled with a witch.

“What’s up with your pale face?” she mocked, looking amused.

“Did you see a witch or something?”

Ignoring her taunt, Muel checked the alley to make sure it was empty.

No one was around.

When he looked directly into her face, the witch’s eyes widened.

They had been travelling together for ten years, yet this was one of the rare times Muel met her eyes directly. She seemed genuinely surprised.

“What’s going on?”

“Witch, it’s time to fulfill our deal.”

Muel spoke in a strained voice, his expression rigid.

“Did you find the one you’ve been searching for?”

“Yes.”

Strictly speaking, it wasn’t the one he wanted, but it might be even better this way. Killing Klaus's son would be a worse punishment for Helga than Muel dying himself.

With Helga's face fresh in his mind, Muel clenched his teeth.

That thick mass of muscle, her face—it all rushed back to him vividly, dragging him back into that day.

The day when he lost a part of his body, when the entire world turned dark and hopeless. That memory came to him as if it had just happened yesterday.

“Urgh...”

A phantom pain surged between his legs, an excruciating feeling that made him want to vomit.

“Ugh...”

He doubled over, gagging, as the witch reached out to place her hand on his back.

“Don't touch me!”

Her hand froze in the air before she slowly withdrew it.

“...”

It had been a day like any other.

Under a luxurious chandelier, noblewomen, all dressed in beautiful gowns, had gathered around Muel.

He sang songs of love, while the men cast jealous glares at him. That day’s song was about the secret love between a musician and a noble lady.

As the song reached its climax, the atmosphere among the women changed.

It was because Klaus, of the Valther family, had entered.

Many of the women surrounding Muel flocked to Klaus, forming a circle around him.

I felt jealous.

That was all there was to it.

In noble gatherings, jesters and minstrels could mock and jest freely without fear of reprisal.

Seeing the barbarian among Klaus’s entourage, Muel had sung a biting remark.

A man wrapped in a woman’s skin.

Yes, he’d admit it. He went a little further, too.

He had sung that the barbarian’s chest was pure muscle. That it was flatter than any man’s chest.

Perhaps he had sung a bit more after that, but his memory of it was hazy.

The laughter of the crowd echoed through the hall, and he heard a woman’s voice, louder than the others.

“Isn’t that embarrassing, to act like that in front of Lord Klaus?”

Everyone laughed.

Both men and women.

It was at that moment—

A huge axe flew through the air, landing right in front of him.

For a moment, Muel thought he had been decapitated.

But his head, his limbs—they were all intact.

He let out a sigh of relief, only to feel something hot trickling down between his legs.

As people screamed and women fainted left and right, Helga spoke quietly.

“I was told not to kill, so I cut off something else.”

It was only later that he realized she had been speaking to Klaus.

And that something else meant his manhood.

After that day, Muel had become nothing but a laughingstock. He was entirely cast out from noble society.

No one invited him to their gatherings.

If he was occasionally called upon, it was only so people could make a joke of what had happened to him.

The ladies who used to crowd around him, even fighting amongst themselves for his attention, vanished.

Everyone who made eye contact with him laughed.

He should’ve died then. It would’ve been better.

Helga...!

He had tried to end his life many times, but he kept on living for one reason—to get his revenge.

Muel straightened up after retching for some time.

The witch asked him,

“So... what is it you want me to do? Do you want me to kill him?”

“Just keep him still for a while. Make him sleep or cloud his mind, whatever it takes. Just until I get to kill him.”

“...Alright. This will settle my debt to you completely.”

“Yes.”

Who would want to travel with a witch willingly?

Muel had once saved her life, unaware that she was a witch. Ever since then, she had stuck by him to repay that debt.

Had he not known about her powers, he wouldn’t have taken her along. But her powers were real.

She had the ability to cloud people’s minds and make them follow her will.

“What kind of person is your enemy?”

At her question, Muel bit his lip.

His lips were already warped from being bitten hundreds, thousands of times—every time he pictured Helga’s face.

After chewing his lip for a moment, he answered in a voice full of venom.

“A barbarian. The one we saw at the plaza.”

“...”

The witch sighed softly, the sound echoing through the empty alleyway.

----------------------------------------

I had hoped that the lodging inside the city would at least be decent.

But, well... this is...

The old mattress was full of holes, with bits of straw poking out. The man sleeping next to me snored loudly, and his body stank like it was rotting.

Do I really have to pay to sleep in a place like this?

Just in case, I asked Jenny quietly,

“Is there a place where I could camp outdoors in this city? As long as I can light a fire...”

Jenny covered her mouth, holding back laughter, and shook her head.

“Sorry, but camping out here isn’t an option. If you start a fire, the patrolling guards will catch you.”

“...”

I had no choice but to sleep here, it seemed.

A small sigh escaped me.

I needed to make money.

Make lots of money, and find myself a really clean place to stay at least once.

That would be my short-term goal—for now, I’d just focus on making money.

While I made my resolve, Jenny was laughing silently, clutching her belly.

“At least the food here is good, and there’s a lot of it. That’s actually a big reason why our guild decided to use this place.”

She said that as if to console me. After watching me pay for my room and drop off my belongings, Jenny headed back to the guild.

The only silver lining was that I could wash myself behind the inn.

Behind the building, several large barrels of water were lined up. After roughly scrubbing the dirt off me, I returned to my room.

Just then, I saw the dancer and the minstrel I had noticed in the plaza entering the lodging.

When they saw me, the minstrel gave a slight nod, and the dancer looked at me straight on.

The last time I saw her, she seemed scared, but now she was staring at me without looking away.

"..."

Okay, that’s a bit too much staring.

Without blinking, the dancer spoke slowly as she continued to look at me.

“Hello5. When we met earlier4, I wanted to talk3 but didn’t have time2. I want to speak1 with you.”

"..."

And then she just stood there, staring.

I found myself thinking that her voice was nice.

It was deep for a woman. Quite low.

Still, it seemed like she had learned to speak strangely.

Why did she add numbers to her words like that?

And why was she staring at me so intently?

She was incredible, really. She didn’t blink at all.

It felt like I would lose if I looked away first, so I held her gaze and replied,

“Sorry. I’m busy right now.”

The dancer seemed genuinely surprised.

The minstrel beside her looked equally startled, lifting his head.

As I passed them by, I tilted my head in confusion.

The dancers and minstrels of this world are quite strange.

What did they want from a random passerby?

Maybe it was because they were artists.

Perhaps it was something a regular person like me couldn’t understand—an artistic sensibility of some sort.