Chapter 2
The bell announcing noon rang in the distance.
Autumn was nearly over, and the weather, which had seemed ready to turn to winter, still capriciously froze and thawed the ground. The cloudless sky was warm, but it was a little hot to walk with a hunted deer slung over his shoulder.
“I should’ve brought a cart.” Feeling sweat bead on his skin, Tarmin entered the tavern. It was a large establishment, distinguished by an imposing stuffed werewolf standing beside one of the pillars.
Enya was there.
“…Why are you here?”
Enya sat by the window, waving at him and calling, “Yoo-hoo!”
He went into the kitchen, handed the cook the meat, and came back out. The deer would be trimmed, skewered, and hung over the brazier in the middle of the hall.
He immediately scolded Enya.
“You just learned to drink, and now you’re heading straight to a tavern in the middle of the day? You’ve got some nerve.”
“I’m not! I came to get lunch. Everything they cook here is delicious.”
She banged her fork against the plate of grilled fish as if in protest. At the sound, the red-haired waitress, Sigona, looked over as though wondering what was going on.
‘One beer, thanks.’ He mouthed the request to Sigona, then smiled and walked over to Enya.
If she really had only come to eat, it seemed so: there was nothing in front of Enya but grilled fish and water. The beer sat before the middle-aged man across from her.
The neatly presented man wore a quilted jacket dyed with red stripes, and his gray hair was slicked back to one side. He watched the two of them with an interested expression.
“Still, what if I had come to drink? What would you do about it? Why are you scolding me? Besides, I’m an adult too.”
Ignoring Enya’s grumbling, he sat down beside her.
He spoke to the middle-aged man.
“Hello. Nice weather, isn’t it?”
“Hello. It’s not bad.”
“Are you acquainted with this fellow?”
Enya suddenly realized, and gestured toward the two of them.
“Oh, right! This stuffy friend of mine is Tarmin. He’s a lousy hunter. And this is Mr. Renzo. Apparently, he got here yesterday.”
The beer he’d ordered was set down in front of Tarmin. Enjoying the cool metal mug, he said,
“Then, Mr. Renzo.”
“You can drop the ‘Mr.’ and call me Renzo. You’re a hunter? Calling you lousy would be a stretch. You did a fine job. I couldn’t see a single spoiled part on that deer.”
“You flatter me.”
“No. I judge what I see. So, I was wondering if I might ask you something.”
“Go ahead.”
Tarmin raised his mug to his lips. He felt the clear, well-filtered beer flow into his mouth as he waited for the question.
“Are you and that young lady lovers?”
He didn’t spray the precious beer everywhere. But he couldn’t swallow it, either.
After setting down his mug without having taken a sip, Tarmin said,
“What did you say?”
“I asked whether you were lovers. Or are you still at that awkward stage where it’s too soon to ask?”
“Well…”
Unable to find an answer, Tarmin wiped his damp lips.
Enya smiled brightly and said,
“Do we look like that?”
Enya seemed to be enjoying this, but Tarmin couldn’t see why.
**
After a brief silence, with Renzo drinking and Enya chewing her food,
Renzo emptied his mug and looked straight at Tarmin.
The way he stared so intently made Tarmin uncomfortable.
“Then give me an honest answer. If you’re lovers, you might take the young lady’s side, making the bet unfair.”
“…We’re definitely not lovers. We’re bitter rivals. What kind of bet did you make?”
“Then perhaps it’ll be all right. Here’s the bet: do you know where Eranche is?”
Tarmin ignored Enya’s complaints that he was being mean and hurting her feelings, and tried to recall the name Eranche.
It was a memory from years ago, but it gradually came back to him.
Hot sea breezes, and passionate people who couldn’t sit still without music.
It was the name of a city-state made up of numerous organizations and mercenaries.
“Yes. I remember. I’ve been there.”
“Well, would you look at that? You’ve been there too? The bet was whether this young lady had ever been to Eranche.”
Relaxing after tensing up at the thought that the bet might involve something complicated, Tarmin rested his arms on the table.
“Then Enya wins. I went there with her.”
“Huh. Why? It’s on the other side of the continent.”
Why did Enya and Tarmin know of a city called Eranche, on the opposite side of the land?
The reason was simple. Enya was a hero, and Tarmin was her companion.
On the hero’s journey stood a city-state with a great harbor, striking for its splendid flowers and clothing.
As Tarmin tried to think of how to answer, Enya held out her palm toward the man.
“I won, right? Pay up.”
“Can this really be happening?”
Renzo groaned and rummaged through his pocket.
A moment later, he took out a coin and flicked it toward Enya.
Enya caught the gold coin with both hands as it arced through the air.
It was currency used in Eranche.
Watching Enya beam as she held up the gleaming gold coin, Tarmin took a drink and said,
“Then you must be from Eranche, right? Judging by that gold coin, too.”
“To be precise, I lived nearby. Still, it’s nice to find someone here who knows the passion of my homeland.”
Only then did Tarmin realize that Renzo had been looking at him in the southern way.
“I remember that way of looking, too. People from that region tend to stare right at you when they talk.”
“Oh, was that considered bad manners in Quaalid? I’ll be careful.”
“It’s not exactly bad, but some people might find it rude. It made quite an impression, so I remember it.”
As Renzo nodded as if to say he understood, Enya asked,
“What brought you all the way here, Mr. Renzo? Like you said, it’s on the other side.”
Renzo slid his empty mug aside and took out a pipe and flint. Rubbing the flint between his hands, he said,
“Since you know Eranche, you probably know what a mercenary is. There’s no point hiding it. I’m a mercenary.”
Tarmin understood why Renzo wore such a colorful quilted jacket and had his hair done that way.
The colorful quilted jacket, made by layering thick cotton, would also serve as a kind of armor. His close-slicked hair was a style that originated from the need to keep it neat beneath a brightly decorated helmet or hat.
“To be precise, I used to be a mercenary. I’m too old to swing a sword now, so I’m looking for somewhere to retire.”
“It’s an unremarkable city, but I don’t think the law and order is bad. If anything, carrying a sword like that will make people more suspicious of you.”
Renzo smiled sheepishly and tucked the sword he’d leaned against the wall farther out of sight. He’d been using a blind spot so it wouldn’t be visible to the other people in the tavern, but Tarmin had noticed it all along.
“How embarrassing. This is my first time in this city, so I don’t know how safe it is, you see.”
“I understand.”
**
After a little more small talk, they left the tavern.
After parting from the old mercenary, Tarmin walked through the city with Enya.
Mercenary Renzo had left the tavern with a “See you next time.”
Honestly, Tarmin found the man who’d introduced himself as an old mercenary unpleasant.
He’d said he was a retired mercenary, but Tarmin didn’t think that was true.
It might sound strange to call it a hunter’s instinct, but he’d sensed it clearly.
Renzo kept measuring the distance between himself and Tarmin.
Tarmin couldn’t guess what he was thinking.
Why did that mercenary feel some strange competitive urge toward him?
He hadn’t done anything to earn anyone’s grudge.
Consumed by that unpleasant feeling, Tarmin didn’t stop until Enya had called him several times.
“Taal!”
“Huh?”
“Wait up! Walk with me.”
He came to his senses and turned around. Enya was a long way behind him. She looked tired of calling after him several times without getting a response, and a little annoyed, too.
“Uh, sorry. I was thinking about something else.”
He stopped and waited for her.
He noted her pace as she came up beside him, then matched his steps to it.
“Learn to walk considerately.”
“…It’s been a while since I walked with you.”
Lately, it felt as though time was passing slowly. The one responsible for that, of course, was Enya.
Normally, he’d wake up, then gather the traps he’d spent the night making to stave off boredom.
On days he was expected at the lord’s manor, he’d go to fetch the lord; otherwise, he’d patrol the hunting grounds and head home with whatever he’d managed to find.
Catching poachers while patrolling the forest had been a little novel, but once even that became part of his routine, there was nothing he could do to stop time from passing.
But now he was drinking liquor he rarely used to touch, and instead of going straight home, he was walking alongside her for no particular reason.
Back when she was a hero, she could sense threats several kilometers away, even while asleep.
Had she sensed the southern mercenary’s competitive urge, too?
Her?
“Then you won’t make that mistake again, right?”
“Enya.”
“Hm?”
“Let me ask you something.”
“…What’s wrong?”
She hadn’t told him what had happened to the others after he left.
He was curious, but he could hold back.
She hadn’t told him why, despite being a successful hero, she’d come to see him.
There must have been a reason. He could wait.
Still, he had to ask this.
“Enya.”
“Yeah.”
“So, are you a woman?”
“…That question again?”
Though she reacted as if she was tired of hearing it, Enya looked over her own body once more.
She ran a hand over her shoulder-length hair, checking it, then inspected her pristine white top and fluttering skirt.
Twisting away as if to escape his gaze, Enya carefully opened her mouth.
“Well, I still seem to be a woman…”
Perhaps because she’d become newly aware of her own body, she blushed with embarrassment whenever she answered, even though she claimed to be sick of the question.
But that wasn’t what Tarmin wanted to ask.
“I mean, how do you want me to treat you?”
“Hm?”
“Do you want me to treat you as a woman? Or do you want me to treat you as the man you used to be?”
How did Enya herself want to be seen?
Until now, he’d tried not to think of Enya in terms of gender. He thought it would be disrespectful to see her that way, so he’d deliberately called her Enya instead of ‘him’ or ‘her.’
Hadn’t she said in her drunken ramblings that some kind of curse had turned her into a woman?
No one should casually tell someone to overcome a curse or accept it unless they’re the one suffering from it.
The most important thing was how Enya felt.
Enya didn’t answer for a while.
Her face was expressionless, as if she hadn’t just blushed, and no emotion showed on it.
Enya stood with one hand gripping her left elbow. She was still in a defensive posture.
“I don’t know. Do whatever you want.”
“No. It’s not something I get to decide. What you want matters.”
“If you want to think of me as a man, then do that.”
“Do you want to be treated as a man? If that’s what you want… Ugh!”
Enya suddenly kicked him in the shin. She landed a clean blow, making good use of the hard part of her shoe.
As he clutched his leg and trembled with pain, Enya had already run ahead.
“Do whatever you want, you idiot!”
Was she angry because she’d almost been treated like a woman, even for a moment?
He could read the feelings of a seasoned mercenary, but he couldn’t guess what was in Enya’s heart.