Morning of the third day in Dolgo.
Tomorrow, after helping rescue the people captured by the thieves and receiving the reward for our contribution in defeating them, it seems we’ll be free to head home.
With no plans for the morning, I decided to take a walk around the city. Checking out the merchandise being sold might even inspire some ideas for the items I create.
However, the main street was bustling with people even in the early hours. This was likely due to two key attractions: the renowned Radislav Magic Workshop and the herb-rich gathering grounds referred to as the “Elven Forest.” These drew adventurers from all over, which naturally boosted commerce. Since many people head out early, mornings and twilight tend to be the busiest times.
“…Ouch!”
Feeling a sharp pain in my arm, I turned my gaze to see that I’d snagged my sleeve on the elbow armor of a man walking toward me. The sleeve had torn slightly.
“My apologies… Are you hurt?”
The man, likely in his late 20s or early 30s, looked down at me with concerned dark eyes. His tanned, rugged appearance gave off an aura of strength. He was easily the tallest person I’d encountered so far—at least a full head taller than me.
“No, I’m fine,” I replied.
“But your sleeve is torn… This is my fault. I’ll replace it for you,” he said, frowning apologetically.
It was crowded, though; such accidents were inevitable. Having him buy me a replacement seemed unnecessary, especially since this was my treasured robe as a magic item craftsman.
“Oh, no, don’t worry about it! I can mend it just fine!”
“Heh… Are you sure? You don’t strike me as the sewing type,” Belial quipped with a laugh.
I wasn’t just pretending—I really didn’t want him to go out of his way!
The man furrowed his brows, clearly still feeling guilty.
“Even so, wouldn’t it be better to get a new one?” he suggested.
“No, this robe is important to me,” I insisted.
He crossed his arms and hummed thoughtfully before suddenly pointing a finger in the air as if struck by inspiration.
“Alright then. I know someone who’s good at mending clothes. I’ll have them fix it for you!”
“That really won’t be necessary—”
“Come on, just come with me to my inn. I’m Nordin, an A-rank adventurer. What’s your name?”
“I’m Iriya , a magic item craftsman,” I introduced myself.
Ignoring my protest, Nordin turned and began walking away. With no choice, I followed.
We were headed to meet someone from Nordin’s party—a fellow A-rank adventurer named Rendal. He was apparently skilled in sewing, organizing, and also wielded swords, healing magic, and support spells. Nordin described him as an odd fellow, laughing as he did so.
As we walked, Belial whispered to me, “So… are you okay with this?”
I didn’t understand what he meant.
…Not at the time.
“We’re staying at the same inn, it seems,” I noted.
“Is that so? We might’ve passed each other before,” Nordin replied casually.
He led me to the second floor and knocked on a door, calling out, “Hey, you in there?”
A pale-skinned man with soft, golden-blonde hair tied back and deep blue eyes opened the door. His slightly pointed ears hinted at Elven heritage.
After hearing the situation, Rendal glared at Nordin. “I told you to change before heading out!” he scolded before bowing slightly to me.
“My apologies for my companion. I’m Rendal. I’ll handle the repairs.”
“Thank you very much,” I said, embarrassed. “It’s shameful, but I’m not skilled with sewing…”
As we exchanged pleasantries, Nordin interrupted with a shocking suggestion:
“Alright, hurry up and sew it. Take it off, Iriya .”
“…What?”
“HEY!”
Belial burst into laughter. “What an amusing fellow he is!”
Absolutely not!
“I-I’ll change and bring it back!” I stammered, fleeing down the hallway.
Behind me, I heard the sound of Nordin’s armor being hit, accompanied by Rendal’s shout: “Are you some kind of pervert?!”
After changing into a long-sleeved white shirt and a grass-green vest with a long hem, I returned to their room.
“Apologies for the trouble,” I said as I handed the robe over.
“No trouble at all,” Rendal replied, though he seemed slightly uncomfortable. He spread the torn sleeve on the table…
And the underside of the lining became visible.
The lining with Belial’s sigil embedded in it.
…Oh no!
So that’s what Belial meant earlier!
From the front, it only looked like layers of purple fabric, but the inside was inscribed with intricate magical symbols and text. Since Rendal also practiced magic, he immediately realized what it meant.
“…This is… incredible,” he murmured, swallowing hard. His sapphire-blue eyes, captivated, traced the string of symbols.
The hidden glyphs on the inner collar, normally concealed by fabric, were now visible through a small gap caused by fraying threads. Symbols were also drawn on the inner sleeves, and the gem on the chest was a stabilizing and amplifying element for the magic. Anyone familiar with magic would recognize its significance immediately upon examining the robe.
Still somewhat panicked, Rendal stared intently at the robe before shifting his gaze—not at me, but at the ruby embedded beneath the robe, emanating its magic. Then, slowly, he turned his head toward Belial.
Leaning casually against the wall with arms crossed, Belial’s porcelain-like features appeared even paler. As Rendal’s face twisted in astonishment, Belial curved his lips into a smirk, as if silently confirming his suspicions.
“Hey, what’s wrong? Can’t fix it or something?”
Nordin, oblivious to the tension, called out. Rendal finally seemed to snap back to reality and looked straight at me.
The next moment—
“My deepest apologies! I’ve done something unforgivable!”
Rendal suddenly dropped to the floor from his chair and prostrated himself.
“Huh? What? What are you apologizing for?”
“Rendal, what the hell is going on?”
Both Nordin and I were completely bewildered by his abrupt behavior. Belial, on the other hand, was grinning, clearly understanding the situation. He truly was a devil sharp to the subtleties of human emotion.
“You too! Apologize! Look at the mess you’ve caused!” Rendal shouted desperately at the confused Nordin.
“Okay, I messed up, but does it really call for groveling like this…?”
“Listen carefully! I’ll explain!” Rendal exclaimed with urgency. “This isn’t just any piece of clothing. This is a critical robe for a mage, imbued with incredibly complex magic! It’s not something you can just buy with money! And on top of that, look at her elegance, her refined demeanor and speech, not to mention the presence of that demon standing behind her! This lady must be a high-ranking court magician from some royal court!”
“What?!”
He rattled off his reasoning in one breath.
The fact that he deduced so much from this was likely a testament to the observational skills and experience of an A-rank adventurer. But at this point, there was no way to hide the truth.
“I will do whatever it takes to compensate you, so please forgive me!”
Rendal pressed his forehead harder against the floor. I felt guilty seeing him so distressed—I never even implied that I wouldn’t forgive him.
“…You’re mostly correct. Please take a seat; I’ll explain everything,” I said.
I never imagined that a small tear in my robe would lead to such a dramatic situation…
“I was an apprentice court magician for the Kingdom of Egdualum.”
“Egdualum… the one known as a magical superpower…”
It seemed Rendal mistook me for a noble. In most countries, court magicians were predominantly nobles, so his assumption made sense.
I briefly explained that I had already left the court and was now a regular citizen. Even so, both Rendal and Nordin gave awkward, wry smiles.
“Well, it’s no secret that nobles in that country are notorious for their elitism and their poor treatment of commoners,” Rendal commented.
“Yeah, and being forced to constantly fight in a place infamous for its strong monsters? Anyone would want to escape that,” Nordin added.
It seemed the two of them knew a bit about Egdualum.
“And you, mind your tone when you speak—!” Rendal scolded Nordin.
“It’s fine. I don’t mind,” I interjected. “Please just treat me as you normally would. I’m just a magic item craftsman now.”
“‘Normally,’ huh? Iriya , you’re plenty formal yourself!”
“Nordin!!!”
Rendal shouted at Nordin, who was making light of the situation.
Ah, I see now. So this is what they call a “straight man and funny man” routine.
