The creaking carriage finally reached its destination and came to a halt with the horse's sharp neigh.
Thane got off the carriage and turned to the fat, big-bearded man.
"Thanks for the ride, old man."
The man laughed as he replied, "It was a pleasant journey. Don't forget my advice, young man."
Thane gave a wide smile.
"Just the first two, don't expect me to follow the last one. Oh, where should I go now?" he asked.
The fat man pointed straight ahead.
"This is the main street right in front of you. Walk through and pick a place you like."
"Alright." Thane waved, "Goodbye, old man. Let's meet again sometime."
"Sure, sure," the man replied with a smile as he tugged on the horse's reins.
With a loud snort, the horse started moving, leaving the street.
Moments later, a thought invaded Thane's mind.
"What was that old man's name?"
He turned his head to ask—but the carriage was already far down the road.
Thane sighed and turned back to face the main street. The sun had begun to set, casting a warm, red glow on the lively path ahead. It was a beautiful evening. The breeze struck the towering teen as he marched forward.
Not even five minutes passed before a man appeared at Thane's side.
"Hello, sir. You look new to this district. May I assist you?" The man was polite and respectful, a blatant master of deceit.
But Thane had already been warned by the old driver.
"No. Leave me alone." He shook his head as he declined.
His cold tone and grim expression were enough to shatter the man's act. Thane's sheer presence helped, too; conmen weren't usually this easy to scare off.
As he walked along the crowded street, Thane noticed it was even more bustling than the main capital roads. A myriad of shops lined the sides — food stalls, clothing stores, and accessories — each decorated with colorful knick-knacks, making it feel like a mini city of its own.
He passed several hotels, but just by looking at them, he could tell they were too expensive. He needed a cheap place that could stretch his expenses for at least two weeks.
Finally, a hotel —not much different from the battered carriage he arrived in— caught his eye. Thane stopped and walked toward it.
"17th Goldcaster."
He read the sign on the old wooden board.
Thane entered the hotel. It was quiet. No one was at the counter. Unlike the other inns he had seen on the street, this one had a crude wooden reception and cobwebs in the corners.
"Perfect," Thane muttered. He figured no one would be desperate enough to stay here, so the owner would likely offer a room at a dirt-cheap rate, or so he thought.
He approached the counter and pressed the bell.
Ding ~Ding
The sound echoed in the empty building. He waited, then rang it again.
Still, no one came. Thane began to lose his patience.
"What kind of shitty hotel is this?! Where's the damn manager!?" he yelled.
Just then, a door behind the counter opened.
Out stepped a lanky teenager, clearly not yet an adult. He was surprisingly handsome, dressed in a brown noble-style outfit. His brownish eyes and tousled short hair could easily earn him the title of dreamboy. He held a fine, expensive-looking cup of tea.
"Oh, hello. What pleasure do I owe for having you here?" he said smoothly.
Thane looked him up and down.
"You're the damn manager?"
The boy sipped his tea and replied casually,
"No, I'm the damn owner."
Thane was caught off guard. The boy's manner and clothes screamed noble.
"Then hire a manager to deal with customers. I've been banging that bell for two times already!"
"Two times?" the handsome boy smirked.
"The last guy banged it nine times. You're one lucky bastard."
That was it. Thane snapped.
He grabbed the boy by the collar and yanked him forward. The skinny teen flew like a feather, and his cup shattered as he slammed into the wall.
"Who are you calling a bastard? You're the bastard!"
Thane's fury flared. He didn't know many curse words—or pretended not to—but his anger did the talking.
"Okay, okay, easy man! What the fuck is wrong with you? I was joking!" the teen protested.
"Go to hell."
That was the best insult Thane could come up with. His father had always warned him: no swearing, or you'll get bad breath.
With that, he turned to leave.
"You've violated the law by hitting a minor, adult," the teen muttered behind him.
Thane stopped.
"I'm also a teenager. Law doesn't apply."
The teen chuckled, then winced from the pain.
"Haha—cough—yeah, and I'm a newborn."
"You want some more?" Thane raised his fist.
But the teen's eyes had caught something—his gaze fixated on the bracelet around Thane's wrist.
"Wait, wait! I have a room for you!" he said quickly.
"I don't want any room in this shitty hotel," Thane grunted.
"What if it's free?" the boy offered.
Thane gave him a wary glance.
"So you can have me killed by your guards later? I know how fragile noble egos are."
"Who the hell said anything about nobles? I'm the son of a merchant." The teen scoffed. "Fuck the nobles. I despise those stuck-up bastards on their high horses. Trash cock-suckers."
"Your breath stinks," Thane replied.
The teen blinked.
"Huh?"
"Don't swear so much. It'll rot your mouth." Thane extended a hand.
The boy grabbed it and stood up, groaning.
"Ugh… ow." He dusted off his suit and asked,
"What's your name?"
"Thane."
"Just Thane? No clan name?"
"No clan name," he answered bluntly. "So… what about that free room?"
"Oh yeah." The teen brightened.
"I've got one to spare, but I need a favor first."
"Then ask, stupid. I'm tired and itchy." Thane frowned.
"Allow me to introduce myself, I'm Maximilian Goldcaster, seventeen years old, owner and manager of this fine establishment."