Ryo was having the best sleep of his life.

The bed in The Rusty Mug Tavern was soft yet firm, with blankets thick enough to trap warmth against the cool morning air. For the first time—in both his past life and this strange new one—there were no deadlines, no alarms, no responsibilities. It was just him, the bed, and a blissful freedom from obligation.

"This is how life was meant to be lived," Ryo thought lazily as he rolled over, sighing contentedly. The distant chirp of birds and the muffled bustle of the tavern below formed a gentle backdrop to his half-awake state.

And then—BAM!

The wooden shutters on his window flew open with a violent crash, flooding the room with blinding sunlight. Ryo groaned and instinctively buried his face under the pillow.

"No," he mumbled, voice muffled. "Absolutely not. Come back later."

"Come back later?!" Anna’s exasperated voice sliced through his fragile peace. "It’s already past noon, Ryo!"

Ryo grunted. "Sounds fake."

"It’s not!" Anna snapped.

Ugh—Ryo rolled over again, determined to ignore reality. "Tell the sun to go away," he muttered.

Before he could protest further, Anna flung a boot at him. It hit him square in the stomach.

"Oof—!" Ryo gasped.

"Get up," she ordered.

Betrayed, Ryo groaned dramatically. "Betrayed. In my own room. By my own servant."

"I’M NOT YOUR SERVANT!" Anna retorted, pinching the bridge of her nose.

"Ryo. Get. Up."

"No."

"Now!"

"Make me."

Without a moment’s hesitation, Anna grabbed a second boot and, with precise aim, lobbed it toward his face. After narrowly dodging a near-fatal encounter with footwear, Ryo finally stumbled out of bed, rubbing his sore stomach.

"Violence first thing in the morning," he muttered. "You need help, Anna."

"You need to get your lazy ass downstairs," she shot back.

Ryo sighed and ran a hand through his messy hair. "Why? What’s the rush? Did Gregor finally learn how to make coffee?"

Anna gestured out the window. "Look for yourself."

Ryo shuffled over and froze. Outside the tavern, an enormous crowd had gathered. Dozens of villagers, travelers, and adventurers filled the street—chattering, pointing, and whispering excitedly. Some peered through the windows; others had even set up makeshift tables selling wooden carvings of swords and headbands. And worst of all—a giant hand-painted sign declared:

  “HOME OF THE LEGENDARY SWORDSMAN, MASTER RYO!”

Ryo’s internal scream was silent. Anna crossed her arms. "See? I told you."

Ryo turned slowly, his face blank. "…I should’ve stayed in bed."

Anna whacked him upside the head.

By the time Ryo dragged himself downstairs, the tavern was packed. Villagers and merchants crowded the wooden tables, their chatter rising into a loud, chaotic hum. A handful of well-dressed merchants huddled near the fireplace, murmuring about "the young master’s skill," while a few roving adventurers—armed and alert—scanned the room for a challenge.

Then, as soon as Ryo set foot inside, the entire tavern fell silent. Moments later, cheers erupted:

"HE’S HERE!"

"MASTER RYO!"

"THE HERO OF ASHFORD!"

Ryo stared in horror as people rose, raising their mugs and clapping. One man even bowed.

Anna, standing behind him, smirked. "Enjoying your quiet life yet?"

Ryo groaned.

Gregor, leaning against the bar, burst into laughter. "See, kid? You’re the phenomenon this village never knew it needed. Perfect for business, too."

Ryo stomped over and pressed his forehead against the counter. "Fix it," he muttered.

"Fix what?" Gregor asked.

"All of this!" Ryo gestured wildly at the crowded room. "Make them stop!"

Gregor chuckled. "Kid, you’re inadvertently running the best marketing campaign this side of Ashford."

Ryo groaned even louder.

As if things weren’t bad enough, the moment Ryo sat down, people began approaching him.

A merchant bowed politely:

"Master Ryo, may I request a duel with one of my guards?"

"Nope."

A young adventurer stepped forward:

"Master Ryo, can I train under you?"

"Definitely not."

A local farmer hesitated:

"Uh, would you be willin’ to bless my crops?"

"…What?!"

Anna snorted. "You’re practically a folk hero now."

Ryo stared at her. "Anna. Please. Help me."

After a pause, she smirked. "…Nah. This is fun."

Ryo slammed his head against a table. Just as he considered escaping out the back door, the tavern door swung open again. This time, the room fell silent as a group of strangers entered.

They weren’t villagers, merchants, or adventurers—they were dressed too well, in formal, noble attire. Ryo’s stomach dropped. Anna tensed beside him.

Gregor narrowed his eyes. "Haven’t seen you in these parts for a while, Fairchild."

Then, from the head of the group, a familiar voice spoke: "Master Ryo, I must say—your reputation precedes you."

Ryo groaned. Standing at the head of the group, smiling politely, was Lord Fairchild—the wealthy proprietor from a neighboring town—whose expression brooked no frivolity.

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The moment Lord Fairchild stepped into The Rusty Mug, the air shifted. The lively chatter faded into a heavy hush; even the merchants and villagers paused. His entourage—six well-dressed men and four armed guards—lent an unmistakable air of authority and menace.

Ryo, still at his table, felt his heart sink. Anna tensed further as Fairchild’s eyes locked onto him. "Though today," he said smoothly, "business has brought me specifically to meet you."

The room turned. Ryo’s face went blank. "Why me?"

Anna nudged him under the table. "Don’t say that out loud!"

Fairchild chuckled. "Because, Master Ryo, you’ve made quite an impression." He settled into a seat across from Ryo and gestured for a drink. "I’m here to make you an offer."

Ryo arched an eyebrow. "I’m very good at saying no."

Fairchild smirked. "Then I suppose I’ll have to make it interesting."

Anna leaned forward, suspicious. "What kind of offer?"

Fairchild sipped his wine slowly. "Master Ryo, I’d like to purchase this tavern. And I’d like you to work for me."

The room fell silent. Gregor froze behind the bar. Ryo stared for a long moment before leaning back. "Yeah, that’s gonna be a no from me."

Fairchild chuckled. "So quick to refuse?"

"Yes."

Fairchild sighed dramatically. "Come now, Ryo. Don’t dismiss it so quickly. This place has potential—but it lacks vision. Under my management, it could become something greater."

Gregor crossed his arms.

Fairchild continued, "Imagine an establishment that isn’t just some roadside tavern, but a gathering place for true nobility. And you, Master Ryo, would be its face."

Ryo blinked. "You mean, a mascot?"

Fairchild laughed. "No. A legend."

Anna stiffened.

Leaning forward, Fairchild said, "You’ve already become famous. Nobles, merchants, adventurers—they’re all talking about the mysterious swordsman in a quiet village. That, Master Ryo, is a brand waiting to be cultivated."

A headache began to form behind Ryo’s eyes. "So… you want to turn me into a mascot?"

Fairchild smirked. "If you want to put it that way."

Anna’s eyes widened in dismay.

Ryo shook his head. "Let me make something very clear: I’m not interested in working, entertaining nobles, or standing around being famous for no reason."

Fairchild studied him, then smiled. "I see. Then perhaps we should add a little incentive." He took another slow sip. "Did you know, Ryo, that this tavern still technically belongs to the crown?"

Ryo blinked.

Gregor scowled.

Anna’s eyes widened. "Wait—you mean…?"

Fairchild nodded. "All land belongs, in some form, to the ruling nobility. This tavern sits on land that was only loosely governed. With Ashford’s rising prominence, certain noble families want to reclaim properties of value."

A chill ran through Ryo. "And I assume you have influence over those families?"

Fairchild tilted his head. "I do have… connections."

Gregor gritted his teeth. "You snake."

Fairchild smiled coolly. "Nothing personal, Gregor. Just business."

Ryo rubbed his temples and exhaled deeply. "So let me get this straight: if we don’t sell you the tavern, you’ll ensure the nobles reclaim it anyway."

"That’s the idea," Fairchild replied.

A heavy silence fell. Then Ryo sighed. "Alright, let’s settle this the usual way."

Fairchild raised an eyebrow. "The usual way?"

Ryo stood and stretched lazily. "Yeah." With a smirk he added, "We fight."

Fairchild stared, then laughed. "You’re serious?"

"Dead serious."

Fairchild gestured to one of his armed guards. "Very well. If you win, I’ll drop my claim on the tavern."

Ryo rolled his shoulders. "And if I lose?"

"Then this place becomes mine."

Anna groaned while Gregor sighed. "Kid, you better win this."

Ryo cracked his neck. "Trust me." Then, with a confident smirk, he added, "I never lose."

A hush fell over the tavern as everyone braced for the duel.

Outside, in a clearing just beyond the tavern, villagers, merchants, and travelers gathered—bets were placed and support shouted in hushed anticipation. For a heartbeat, as Ryo caught his breath, the cheers faded into a disbelieving silence. He couldn’t help but think, I’d rather be asleep—yet here I am, chasing fate once again.

Gregor, acting as referee, announced, "Standard duel rules: no killing blows. First to yield, get disarmed, or knocked out loses." Across from him, Alric, the challenger, simply nodded.

Ryo managed a yawn that belied the tension in his muscles. "Not exactly eager, but I suppose fate has a peculiar sense of humor," he murmured.

Gregor raised his hand. "Begin!"

Alric moved first—fast, too fast. His saber sliced through the air like lightning, aimed at Ryo’s side. Ryo’s body reacted instinctively with a subtle shift and a casual step back. The blade passed within inches of his ribs, drawing a collective gasp from the crowd.

Alric twisted his wrist and launched a second strike. Ryo leaned slightly, allowing the sword to miss his throat by a hair’s breadth. Then came a third thrust aimed directly at his chest—this time, Ryo tilted his head, the attack narrowly missing.

Alric stepped back, readjusting his stance. "You’re fast," he said, his tone edged with challenge.

Ryo grinned lazily. "I’m lazy. There’s a difference."

Without warning, Alric’s blade shimmered with a faint glow as he unleashed three rapid strikes—each blow powerful enough to shatter steel. Yet Ryo dodged them with barely any movement, his small shifts of weight and languid steps bordering on superhuman finesse.

Alric’s eyes narrowed. "Are you playing with me?" he demanded.

Ryo sighed. "No, I just don’t want to move more than necessary."

In a deft maneuver, Alric switched tactics—a low, sweeping kick. Ryo barely dodged in time, exactly as Alric had hoped. As Ryo shifted, Alric’s blade reversed mid-swing and slashed at his exposed side. In that heartbeat, Ryo caught the blade with his bare hand. The crowd gasped as the saber hung suspended between Ryo’s fingers.

Alric stared in disbelief. Then, with one smooth flick of his wrist, Ryo snapped the saber in half. The shattered blade clattered to the ground, and the clearing erupted in cheers.

Alric stepped back slowly, then sighed and muttered, "...I yield," his tone heavy with reluctant respect.

Fairchild’s expression froze. Gregor clapped Ryo on the back, laughing. "Kid, I don’t know how you do it, but I ain’t complaining."

Ryo rubbed his eyes sleepily and shrugged. "I don’t know either."

Fairchild exhaled. "...A deal is a deal." He stood, adjusted his coat, and said, "Enjoy your little tavern, Ryo." Without another word, he turned and left.

Anna watched him go, exhaling slowly. "You know this isn’t over, right?"

Ryo groaned. "Why does this keep happening to me?"

Almost immediately, the crowd erupted into shouts and whispers: "He snapped the sword with his fingers!" "He didn’t even try!" "Master Ryo remains undefeated!" Ryo groaned as people pressed in for a closer look.

Anna smacked him. "You just made things worse!"

Ryo banged his head on the counter. "Why does this keep happening to me?"

Just then, the tavern door swung open again, and a familiar figure entered—Lord Fairchild. Ryo visibly deflated.

Gregor raised an eyebrow. "Didn't expect to see you back so soon."

Fairchild, as refined as ever, smiled coolly. "Relax, I'm not here for business today."

Ryo narrowed his eyes. "...Then what are you here for?"

Fairchild walked to the counter, ordered a glass of wine, and said, "I just wanted to remind you that even though I lost our wager, I haven’t given up."

Ryo groaned. "Great. More problems."

Fairchild sipped his wine. "Ashford is growing, Ryo. And people like you attract danger."

Ryo raised an eyebrow. "Was that a threat?"

Fairchild smirked. "A simple truth." He stood, adjusted his coat, and said, "Enjoy your new business, Master Ryo." Then he turned and left, his entourage in perfect sync.

Anna crossed her arms. "He’s definitely coming back."

Gregor nodded. "Yeah, and next time, he won’t be so polite."

Ryo sighed, rubbing his face. "Why does everything I do make my life harder?"

Back inside, as the crowd dispersed, Ryo longed to sink back into sleep. But fate had other plans. The moment he reentered the tavern, Gregor was waiting with two mugs of ale.

Ryo eyed them suspiciously. "That for me?"

Gregor smirked. "Depends. You gonna listen to an offer?"

Anna, still recovering, groaned, "No more offers, please."

Gregor chuckled. "This one’s different." He pushed a mug toward Ryo. "Sit down, kid. We need to talk."

Ryo grumbled and took a seat. Anna hesitated, then joined him.

Gregor leaned in, serious. "I need a business partner."

Ryo blinked.

Anna froze.

Gregor continued, "I’ve run this tavern for years, but with all the attention you’re drawing, it’s getting bigger than I can handle alone."

Ryo frowned. "What are you saying?"

Gregor grinned. "I want you to help run it."

Ryo choked. "What?!"

Gregor laughed. "You heard me."

Anna slammed her hand on the table. "Wait—You want Ryo, the laziest person alive, to run a business?"

Gregor shrugged. "He’s already inadvertently running the best marketing campaign I’ve ever seen."

Ryo buried his face in his hands. "I hate this."

Gregor grinned. "You’ll get a share of the profits, work as little as you want, and just let your name keep drawing customers."

Anna stared at him. "And you trust him with this?"

Gregor snorted. "No, that’s why you’ll be managing."

After a long pause, Ryo smirked. "Could be worse."

Anna screamed into her hands, "I hate both of you."

Gregor raised his mug. "Welcome to business, kid."

As the day wore on, amidst the chaos of newfound fame and looming threats, Ryo couldn’t help but wonder if destiny really had a twisted sense of humor—a life where trouble followed him like an unwelcome shadow, yet somehow, in its own lazy way, felt exactly like home.