A moment later, Gen stopped in front of a small inn tucked away in a quiet alley.
He pushed the door open and stepped inside, his gaze silently sweeping across the simple space within. A wooden counter about 1.2 meters tall stood at the front, next to it were six old sets of tables and chairs made from rough timber. No paintings, no curtains, no decorative lights—the entire place looked like a lonely wooden box forgotten by time.
From the deserted alley outside, it wasn't hard to guess that Gen was the first—and probably the only—guest today.
Knock, knock.
Gen gently tapped twice on the counter, just enough to stir the heavy silence.
Immediately, from behind the counter, a small head popped up. It was a girl around ten years old with short-cut, light blonde hair. Her face lit up with curiosity at the sight of a guest.
"Welcome, sir!"
She beamed, her eyes squinting in delight, then quickly ran out from behind the counter.
Only when she stepped out did Gen notice she was wearing a worn-out ash-gray dress and walking barefoot on the cold wooden floor.
"Are there any vacant rooms here?" Gen asked, a slight smile tugging at his lips.
"Of course! Are you looking to rent one?"
"Yes. But first, bring me something to fill this empty stomach."
As he spoke, Gen pulled a gleaming gold coin from his coat and placed it in her small, upturned palm.
"Waa~!"
The girl gasped, her young face filled with astonishment. She clutched the coin tightly as if afraid it would vanish.
"Ah... but..." she hesitated, looking up with uncertainty. "I... I don't have enough change for this..."
She held the coin up with both hands, her expression nearly on the verge of tears.
"Keep it," Gen said simply, then placed another gold coin on the counter. "This one's for the meal."
She stood frozen for a moment. Her wide eyes locked onto the two gold coins as if unable to believe her sudden fortune.
"What's going on, Emi?"
A woman's voice echoed from upstairs. Moments later, a middle-aged woman wearing an apron descended the stairs. Her features bore some resemblance to the girl.
"Mom! Look!" Emi called out, opening her hand to show off the shiny coin, her other hand pointing at the counter.
"?!"
The woman's eyes widened as she turned to scrutinize Gen.
"Payment for food and lodging," Gen explained with a smile.
"Ah... You're staying the night, then?"
"Not sure. I might only stay until evening."
"I see... But this amount—it's too much for us..."
"It's fine. I have plenty of money," Gen replied nonchalantly, as if it were a matter of course. Then he turned to Emi with a smile. "Now, can you get me something to eat? I'm really about to faint from hunger."
Not waiting for any protest, he sat down on one of the creaky wooden chairs.
"Y-Yes! I... I'll get it ready right away!"
The woman gave a slight bow before hurrying into the kitchen.
"Take this and give it to your mother later. For now, show me to a room," Gen said, slipping the remaining gold coin into Emi's hand.
"Hee, okay!" she beamed, her cheeks turning red with joy.
"Are you a noble, mister? I heard nobles are super rich!" she asked as they climbed the stairs, unable to hold back her curiosity.
Gen paused for a moment. Just for a second, he saw the eyes of another child... from a time long past.
"Once, maybe," he replied, patting her head with a natural smile.
Upstairs, a narrow hallway led to three doors side by side. Through a round window in the corridor, one could look down at the empty alley below.
"All three rooms are empty?"
"Yup!" Emi nodded enthusiastically, then ran ahead to throw open all three doors like an eager tour guide.
"No need, just one is fine. This one will do."
Gen stepped into the first room. It was plainly furnished, containing only a single bed and a low wooden cabinet beside it.
Dolly followed him inside. Emi's eyes remained fixed on the girl, full of admiration for her elegant black dress and the mysterious white mask she wore.
"Alright then, I'll head downstairs. I'll call you when the food's ready!"
Emi grinned and waved goodbye before scampering back down the stairs.
Gen watched her go, then closed the door.
He sat on the bed, unstrapped his backpack, loosened the knot, and lifted the flap. Inside lay the dragon egg, its surface smooth and glossy like it was shrouded in mist.
He stared at it for a while, then placed his hand on it, sending in a gentle stream of mana.
The egg quivered faintly, a soft thumping echoing from within.
The mana was absorbed like water seeping into dry earth.
"Hmm..."
Gen closed his eyes, his body relaxing.
Just a few seconds later, he opened his eyes again—now sharp and focused. His mana surged, releasing an invisible wave that seemed to heat the very air.
If mana had a form, he would've looked like a living torch.
But then...
A powerful pull from the egg began drawing his mana back—bit by bit, drop by drop, like a ravenous child.
The more he gave, the heavier the egg became, as if turning to stone.
He wasn't sure whether he was raising a dragon… or forging steel.
Five minutes later, the egg stopped absorbing. Not because it was full, but because Gen's mana was depleted. MP: 0.
He returned the egg to the backpack, set the bag by the bed, and lay down flat, reaching for an MP potion from his spatial ring.
But...
Failure.
He didn't have enough mana to activate the ring.
Gen sat up abruptly, frowning, then glanced at Dolly. "Wait here."
He opened the door, left the room, and walked downstairs.
"Oh, you're..."
Emi was placing two bowls of soup on the table when she turned and seemed to remember something: "Ah, I don't even know your name."
"Call me Gen," he said, sitting down with a smile.
"Heehee, Mister Gen. This is your soup and that lady's. I'm getting bread now and... we've still got two meat portions coming!"
"That lady?" Gen blinked. He had nearly forgotten about Dolly.
"Just one portion for me. Dolly doesn't eat," he said with a wave.
"Ah, okay..." Emi looked briefly confused, then nodded.
She ladled another portion of broth into a ceramic bowl and turned to go. But before she took more than a few steps, she turned back again, as if something weighed on her.
"Mister Gen..." Her voice was soft—not the usual polite tone, but hesitant and cautious. "How long... do you plan to stay here?"
Gen, spoon in hand, looked up at her.
"Tonight. Maybe until morning."
"Is something wrong?"
He answered simply.
Emi gripped the edge of her apron, her eyes wavering. But then she shook her head and forced a small smile: "No... It's just... this inn isn't very peaceful. My mom says guests often come and leave after just a day. Some get scared and run off in the middle of the night."
"Scared?"
"Yes... We've been running this inn for five years now, ever since my dad passed away. Back then, he borrowed money from bad people to fix the roof, but he died in an accident before he could repay them... Mom's been doing everything she can to pay it back, but they keep coming. They want us to sell the inn, sell the land... But this place is the only thing we have left from Dad..."
Her voice trailed off. Her eyes lowered.
Gen said nothing. He returned to his meal, quietly sipping the now-lukewarm soup as though pondering something not found in the broth.
He ate slowly. The soup was simple—just soft slices of lean meat stewed with mountain vegetables—but its flavor held a strangely comforting warmth.
Emi returned to her place behind the counter, occasionally sneaking glances at him with curious eyes, as if watching a special visitor who had stumbled into a place no one noticed.
"...Not bad."
Gen murmured, leaning back in his chair, twirling his spoon lazily. Noon sunlight streamed through the slats in the window, casting stripes of light on the worn wooden floor. The air here made him forget who he was—or perhaps, that he didn't need to be anyone at all.
Once he finished, he stood up and spoke softly, "I'll rest upstairs for a bit. Call me when it's near dusk."
"Okay!" Emi bowed cheerfully, cradling the soup tray like a treasure.
Gen ascended the creaky stairs slowly, one step at a time.
As soon as he opened the door, Dolly was standing silently in a corner, her glassy eyes gazing outside like a statue.
Gen walked over and collapsed onto the bed.
No mana. No sensory signals. No threats lurking nearby.
A rare moment of peace.
Within seconds, he was fast asleep.
The sun set slowly behind the rooftops of Venezia, painting the sky in a pale orange hue—like the dying embers of a flame long extinguished. Its final rays shimmered across the water of the narrow canals that snaked between the streets, casting wavering reflections like fragile illusions.
From weather-worn wooden balconies, oil lamps began to flicker to life, their warm golden glow spilling down onto the winding stone alleys where shadows quietly multiplied. The evening breeze carried the scent of salt from the sea, mingled with the sharp, damp smell of moss and algae—and the savory aroma of grilled meat from roadside eateries. The wind whistled gently through the gaps between buildings, occasionally accompanied by the soft chime of wind bells somewhere far away, like the faint sigh of an aging town.
In the square, children had run home, leaving muddy footprints on the gray cobblestones. A few rickety carriages clattered back from the outskirts, lanterns swaying in rhythm with the creaking wheels. In the southern district—infamous for its chaos and shadows—the night was already alive with lewd laughter, clinking glasses, and the subtle hiss of metal sliding from its sheath.
As darkness fully embraced Venezia, the town seemed to shift into another state—silent, yet perilous; beautiful, yet uneasy, as if the thinnest touch might shatter the fragile shell of peace blanketing it.
A soft knock echoed against the door, light and careful, as though afraid to disturb the delicate atmosphere of the room.
"Gen... it's dinner time."
Emi's voice drifted in—quiet as twilight's breath. Beyond the wooden door, the room remained bathed in the dim light of the setting sun. A streak of reddish-orange filtered through the round window, dyeing the worn blanket with a wistful hue of nostalgia.
Gen opened his eyes.
No roars. No monster footsteps. Just a still silence... and the faint scent of old wood lingering in the air.
"You're awake," he muttered hoarsely, like someone rising from a distant dream.
He sat up, feeling the weak stream of mana begin to trickle once more through his veins. Not much, but enough to unlock his dimensional ring. With a flick of his hand, he drew out an MP potion, took a sip out of habit, and stood to leave the room.
The inn's ground floor was no longer as empty as it had been at noon. Under the gentle light of swaying oil lamps, five or six strangers now sat scattered around the wooden tables. Each wore a cloak, lightly equipped, boots still stained with dried mud—Adventurers freshly returned from the mountains or forest's edge.
A large man with wild hair tied back high was cutting dried meat with a dagger. Nearby, twin siblings with catlike eyes quietly sipped soup, occasionally exchanging cryptic glances. Close to the counter, a young red-haired mage was inspecting her spell scroll, fingertips sending up a thread-thin spark of light.
All heads turned briefly toward the staircase as Gen descended.
No one spoke, but a few stares lingered longer than usual—as if assessing the unfamiliar face.
"Gen!" Emi waved him over cheerfully to a nearby table. "Dinner's ready—I saved a spot for you!"
The meal was simple—vegetable soup and toasted bread—but the warm aroma filled the space, gently overwhelming the smell of iron and sweat that clung to those who survived the borderlands.
Gen sat, his gaze not overly curious, but attentive enough to memorize every face.
"Seems like it's... busier tonight," he remarked.
"Yeah..." Emi replied, voice lowered with a hint of concern.
"They renting rooms too?"
"No..." She lowered her eyes. "Just here to eat, then leave. They said... they don't want any trouble after dark."
"Trouble from who?" Gen asked, sipping his soup.
Emi hesitated, glancing toward the door as if afraid someone might be listening. Then she leaned in and whispered, "Debt collectors. A few of them show up every evening."
Gen resumed his meal. Each spoonful of hot soup carried the sweet taste of mountain vegetables, mingled with a hint of salted meat. It brought a strange sense of ease—one of those rare moments where he could eat without staying alert.
Clink. His spoon tapped lightly against the bowl.
Then—
BANG!
The wooden door slammed open, crashing against the wall and tearing through the quiet atmosphere.
Three broad-shouldered figures stepped inside.
They wore rough leather coats, thick ropes slung over their shoulders, iron-studded gloves on their hands. Their faces were rugged, hair wild, reeking of booze carried in on the cold wind.
They said nothing. Just strode in like they owned the place.
Chairs scraped. The biggest of them dropped into a seat with a thud; the other two split up, taking opposite corners of the room, eyes sweeping across the Adventurers.
The tavern's atmosphere dropped instantly.
The twins glanced at each other, then kept eating with heads lowered. The man with wild hair set his knife down slowly. The red-haired mage froze, her scroll trembling.
A young Adventurer near the exit murmured, "Them again..."
Gen looked up, not needing to turn to know the silence was because of the newcomers.
Emi froze behind the counter, clutching her tray. She bit her lip, eyes darting to her mother, a middle-aged woman trying to maintain composure—though her hand trembled as she set down a teapot.
The big man leaned back and let out a raspy laugh.
"Crowded tonight. Feels cozy for once."
He spoke loudly on purpose, eyes sweeping the room like a landlord.
"I'm guessing all you fine Adventurers heard the rumors about the fox cave in the eastern mountains? Someone disappeared two days ago."
Another one snorted, adding, "Wonder if sleeping here's safe tonight. Been a while since this place... caught fire, huh?"
The threat hung in the air, half-joking, half-real.
A few Adventurers stood. No one wanted part in whatever was about to unfold.
The big man called out:
"Hey now, don't get the wrong idea. We're just here for drinks. Anyone's free to stay."
He knocked on the table. "Just... some places aren't meant to be lived in too long. Especially when the owner owes money and refuses to sell to someone better suited to run it."
"Wouldn't want an unfortunate accident, right?" His voice dropped, like a hiss.
Gen stopped eating.
He slowly set down his spoon and stood, eyes calm.
"Disturbing people during dinner like this..."
His voice was soft, almost like wind.
"Don't you think that's a little rude?"
The whole tavern turned.
No one dared breathe.
The big man turned, raising a brow at Gen as though spotting an amusing animal. He blinked, then let out a hoarse chuckle—reeking of alcohol, loud in the silence.
"Oh? A hero, huh?" He leaned forward. "Black hair, cold eyes, baby face—you just come down from the capital or something?"
The other two began to rise, closing in from both sides like jaws of a trap.
Gen showed no reaction. He merely tilted his head, speaking like explaining a universal truth:
"Where I'm from doesn't matter... but I don't like being disturbed when I eat."
The big man slammed his hand on the table.
"Then go eat somewhere else! This is our turf!"
He stepped forward, towering over Gen, chest puffed as if to intimidate.
He raised a hand to grab Gen's collar—but
Swish!
A single finger intercepted his wrist. Not gripping, not striking—just gently holding.
The man's arm froze as if encased in ice.
"Hands used to threaten others..." Gen's voice dropped, barely loud enough for the three of them to hear.
"...don't tend to last very long."
The brute growled, but before he could react, a force struck his chest like a kick, knocking him back to the floor. Tables and chairs clattered.
The other two drew knives—but before they could act, Gen turned calmly, eyes cold as winter river water.
"Want to join your friend?"
They froze. The room fell into utter silence.
Some Adventurers who had reached for their swords stopped. Emi stood stiff behind the counter, eyes wide.
The big man struggled up, eyes bloodshot. But instead of charging, he glared at Gen.
"You'll regret this... touching one of Callum's men..."
He spat on the floor and staggered toward the door, tossing a final threat over his shoulder:
"You'll be sorry soon."
The other two followed without a word.
Gen returned to his seat, pulled his chair in, and picked up his spoon—as if nothing had happened.
"Still warm," he muttered, resuming his meal.
Emi stared at him, eyes gleaming—not sure if with fear, or admiration.