The tavern was a riot of sound and motion, nestled deep within the shadowed alleys where the scent of alcohol alone wasn’t enough to draw a crowd. Here, the allure was in something more primal—laughter, drinks, and the gleam of exposed skin. Women, scantily clad, weaved between tables, balancing trays of brimming tankards as men barked for more. Upstairs, the creak of wood and the shuffle of feet spoke of more intimate meetings—couples, groups, and combinations less polite society would frown upon.

Dus beamed as he led Anyi and Layton through the threshold, his laugh blending with the din. "Men belong in places like this! Where the wine flows, and the women dance!" His voice boomed, filled with self-satisfaction.

Layton grinned, his hand clapping against Dus’s shoulder with a force that rattled him. "You’ve got that right! A man should drink! Hahaha!" He turned to Anyi, slapping his back. "What about you, Anyi? You look like you’ve never touched a drop!"

Anyi, with a quiet sigh, recalled the endless nights in his past life where alcohol had been his only solace. Though his current body had the power to purge all toxins, he knew he could will the intoxication back if he desired it. But such indulgence? He wasn’t interested. "Yeah," he said coldly. "I’ve never drunk."

Before they could dwell on his words, a waitress approached them, her hips swaying as she offered a practiced smile. "Hero-sama, welcome! Will you be having the usual?"

Dus grinned at her, a familiar gleam in his eyes. "Of course! Top malt for us! Bring it quickly!" He puffed up his chest, basking in the subtle fear that flickered in the eyes of the other patrons, aware of his reputation here.

Since gaining the Hero system, Dus had made this tavern his personal playground. Fights over spilled drinks or misplaced glances were common, and Dus never shied from a brawl. Those foolish enough to challenge him learned their lessons quickly, often before he even drew his weapon. The tavern-goers knew better now, keeping their distance from the self-proclaimed hero.

As the waitress scurried off to fetch the drinks, Dus gestured grandly to the two men beside him. "These two are heroes like me! Chosen by the gods themselves! Treat them well, you hear?"

The waitress bowed low, offering a sycophantic smile. "Of course, Hero-sama!" she chirped, heading off to fetch more women to serve the table. Soon, Anyi, Layton, and Dus were surrounded by a small crowd of female attention, drinks being poured and glasses refilled before they could even think to ask.

The men around the tavern glared daggers at the three of them. The women who had been clinging to them moments ago had now abandoned them entirely, flocking to the heroes like moths to a flame.

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Layton, for his part, remained unbothered by the flirtatious glances and giggles. He had no interest in the women, his [Lustlessness] skill ensuring his mind stayed clear of such distractions. Still, that didn’t stop him from enjoying himself. "Hahaha! Everyone drink! No need to serve me—I’ll pour for you!" he laughed, handing a drink back to one of the waitresses, his smile infectious.

Dus watched with sharp eyes, his mind scheming. Perfect. Here was a married man, supposedly noble, indulging in wine and flirtations in a seedy tavern far from home. If word got out... well, Layton's reputation would crumble.

He leaned back, a smug grin curling his lips. 'A married man, leaving his wife and child behind to revel here,' he thought. 'If this gets out... ah, the scandal.'

Dus himself cared little for his own reputation—he reveled in chaos. But to see a righteous man, someone like Layton, fall? That would be fun.

Anyi slumped over the table, his forehead making a dull thud as it collided with the wood. The laughter that erupted around him was almost deafening. Layton, pointing at Anyi's limp form, let out a booming laugh.

"Hahaha! Look at him! Our little Sword Hero, already down after half a cup!" Layton bellowed, causing the tavern’s patrons to glance over, some chuckling while others merely smirked.

Layton, still laughing, added, "He just turned eighteen! Poor kid’s barely touched a drink before." The camaraderie between them was palpable, but there was an undercurrent of something else—Layton, unaware of Dus’s ulterior motives, saw the night as a jovial experience, while Dus reveled in the idea of tarnishing reputations.

Without hesitation, Dus called for the nearby waitresses. "Take him upstairs! Find him a room to sleep it off!"

"Yes, Hero-sama!" the waitresses chimed, stepping forward to comply with Dus’s command.

The women, each with delicate yet determined hands, struggled to lift Anyi, who remained as limp as a rag doll. His body flopped, dead weight, completely unresponsive. To those watching, Anyi seemed lost in a drunken stupor, but reality was far from it.

In truth, this was one of Anyi's hard-earned skills from his long journey of vengeance: Playing dead. It was a technique born from necessity—a way to appear so convincingly lifeless that enemies would let their guard down. Muscles relaxed, breathing shallow, every part of his body devoid of tension, rendering him more unmovable than a corpse.

As the waitresses dragged him up the creaking wooden stairs, the muffled sounds from the other rooms filtered through the thin walls. The tavern wasn’t the place for restful slumber, not with the constant noise and revelry bleeding through.

Anyi felt the door to the room open, and the next thing he knew, he was being hoisted onto a bed. The women bustled around him, their whispers too soft to decipher, but their actions were unmistakable.

One of them began to untie his shoes, sliding them off with care.

Next, they unbuckled his leather armor, easing it from his frame.

Then, they moved on to his coat, peeling it away from his skin.

The process seemed routine until... they reached for his belt.

Anyi’s mind, despite the practiced stillness of his body, stirred in alert. 'Wait, what?'

He could hear the subtle shift in the room’s atmosphere—the playful giggles of the women morphed into something darker. As they moved to unfasten his belt, he risked opening his eyes just enough to see through the veil of his lashes. In the dim light of the room, he caught sight of their faces—lips curved into greedy smiles, eyes glowing with an unnatural pink hue, like hearts pulsing with lust.