Histori looked at the block of proper flatbread, the corner of her eye twitching uncontrollably.
‘That’s it.’
The familiar color, a texture so hard it defied human logic, and when tossed onto the table, it made a dull thud like stone hitting wood.
Plus the faint, weird smell of sawdust mixed with moldy grain.
‘Case closed.’
A mystery that had been baffling Histori for some time was finally solved tonight.
She’d been wondering all along where Amir got her supplies—some heartless, shady merchant who sold rations that could chip a tooth and tasted like gnawing on roof tiles.
Now she knew.
It had to be this underground black market joint that didn’t even have a proper sign!
‘Though the grilled meat here is really good—like, really good…’
‘But…’
Histori silently tugged the hood of her cloak lower, trying to hide her utterly defeated expression behind the coarse cloth.
She closed her eyes and let out a soft sigh through her nose.
‘Okay, look on the bright side: even if that flatbread did a number on me, at least tonight Amir and I won’t be sleeping on a tree stump in the middle of nowhere.’
“Oh, right—give her a cleaner room too.”
Just as Histori was busy doing her mental pep talk, Amir suddenly added.
Her tone was the same cool, detached cadence, as if she were discussing some trivial matter, but the content of her words made Histori snap her head up.
Amir flipped her wrist, pulled a silver coin out of her inconspicuous dark Storage Ring, and flicked it with two fingers.
The shiny little disc spun through the air and landed on the tavern’s counter.
The crisp clink of coin on wood wasn’t especially loud in the tavern, but it was enough to make the landlady’s eyes light up.
The landlady, who had been ignoring them moments before, instantly plastered on a ridiculous fawning smile.
She stretched out her greasy, flour-dusted hand and snatched the silver coin into her palm.
“Coming right up! The last room at the end of the hall—fresh sheets changed just this noon. I promise you, not even a single flea!”
‘…They have to advertise a clean bed and no fleas separately…’
‘I’m already worried about the quality of this place…’
Watching the landlady’s instant face change, Histori felt the corner of her mouth twitch again.
Judging by the landlady’s reaction, that silver coin of Amir’s was way too generous.
Given the local rates, that amount could probably pay for half a month’s stay.
‘Honestly, I can’t figure out Amir at all.’
‘She’s so stingy when eating those rock-hard rations, not even willing to add an extra piece of jerky, but now she’s paying for a room for me without a second thought.’
Walking on the creaky old wooden stairs, Histori followed Amir up to the second floor of the tavern.
The hallway was narrow—only enough for two people to squeeze past each other sideways—and the ceiling was so low.
Given Amir’s height, her head was almost brushing the cobweb-covered beams.
They passed rooms emitting snores and mumbled sleep-talk, and finally reached the end of the hall, the last room the landlady had mentioned.
Amir reached out and pushed open the thin wooden door, its hinges letting out a dry groan.
To be fair, the room wasn’t very large—just enough space for a bed and a table.
But compared to that broken attic Amir used to stay in, with its window that wouldn’t shut properly and cold wind blowing in all night, this was practically a five-star—
‘…Okay, maybe three-star luxury suite.’
At least it had a proper wooden bed.
The cotton bed sheets, though a bit faded and frayed at the edges, were clean and even retained a faint, soft texture.
A reasonably thick wool blanket was folded on the headboard.
For the nearby taverns, this was already pretty luxurious.
“All right, get some rest tonight, Histori.”
Amir didn’t seem inclined to stay in the room.
She stood at the doorway, one hand resting on the brass doorknob, and turned to glance at Histori.
The candlelight from the hallway fell on Amir’s back, casting her slender face in chiaroscuro.
Her expression was hard to read; only her calm black eyes glimmered faintly in the shadows.
“We’ve got things to do first thing tomorrow.”
Her voice lowered, returning to its usual precise, composed rhythm.
“Before we make a move on the Holy Church, we still need to confirm some intel—their defense deployments and the cycle of barrier shifts.”
‘Oh! Right!’
‘Next step: steal the United Kingdom’s Sacred Artifact from the Holy Church’s sanctuary!’
“Those Church people may be stubborn, but their defense system isn’t stupid. So come with me and do a recon.”
“Okay, Lady Aimier.”
Histori nodded obediently.
But although her voice sounded calm enough, her heart was starting to pound.
‘Something’s off…’
‘The old Amir wouldn’t have cared about defense measures. As long as she confirmed the target was there, she’d just do it—throw on a cloak of the right color and head straight for the Church.’
‘This cautiousness feels weird.’
Of course, even though she thought that, Histori said nothing and just tried to keep her expression steady and reliable.
“You get some rest too. Good night.”
“Mm. Good night.”
Amir responded softly, then pulled the door shut.
With a soft click from the lock, the footsteps outside vanished instantly.
Histori strained her ears, but she couldn’t catch any sound—as if Amir had evaporated the moment she closed the door.
‘Well, that’s Amir.’
‘Walking without a sound is a Stealth basic.’
When the room fell completely silent, Histori took off her gray-white cloak and collapsed onto the relatively soft bed like a boneless lump of mud.
The bedding wasn’t as soft as the one in the Demon King’s Castle, naturally.
And the pillow was stuffed with who-knows-what kind of grass.
And the noise from the tavern below still seeped faintly through the floorboards.
But still—since leaving the Demon King’s Castle, this was the most decent bed Histori had slept in.