"This is the place."
Shaka followed Lulune as they bypassed an inconspicuous alley and stopped in front of a hotel that looked utterly eerie.
The building was only two stories tall. Vines crawled up its walls, the windows were cracked and broken, and several dead trees surrounded it.
If someone didn't know it was a hotel, they would have mistaken it for a haunted house.
"Hey, are you sure people actually live here?" Shaka exclaimed.
"This place is falling apart. Swordsmith City is supposed to be prosperous!"
Seriously, the city planning here is terrible.
Lulune replied calmly,
"This kind of place is exactly where rats like to hide. Somewhere no one visits makes business convenient."
…That actually made sense.
Still, Shaka disagreed internally. If it were him, he would've booked a luxury hotel instead. The more open and normal something looked, the less suspicious it felt.
Unless,
Their cargo couldn't be exposed to light, forcing them to hide in places like this.
Tsk. Thinking really isn't my strong suit, Shaka admitted to himself.
"Gah—gah—gah—gah—gah."
Several crows suddenly landed on the withered branches outside the hotel, cawing loudly.
The entrance was sealed with a rusty iron lock. The two stood there in silence.
"Hey, Mud Dog," Shaka whispered. "Don't you find this strange?"
"What part?"
"The crows. They're way too noisy."
"Not all crows sound like that," Lulune replied, hands on her hips.
"The problem is this place, it's too quiet."
Shaka nodded slowly.
"Even a remote inn should have a cook and an owner. It's only ten in the morning. They shouldn't be closed."
"Mmm."
The same thought crossed both of their minds.
Lulune acted decisively. She stepped forward and knocked the entrance
Clang!
The rusty lock shattered instantly.
"…Oops."
She coughed awkwardly.
"Well, looks like it's open now."
Shaka said nothing and shot her a look.
You're strong. You go first. I'll cover you.
"For self-defense," Lulune said, tossing him a dagger before pushing the door open.
"By the way," Shaka added, "do you have a staff? I'm technically a mage after all."
"Stop talking nonsense and hurry up," Lulune said helplessly.
"I'm a thief. Why would I carry a staff?"
Creeeak—
The rotten wooden door opened with a harsh groan.
Inside was a surprisingly clean reception desk. Nothing sat on it except a resident registration ledger.
Lulune began flipping through the list while Shaka checked the surrounding rooms.
Creak. Creak. Clack Clack.
As Shaka stepped forward, the floorboards groaned. One section sounded noticeably hollow.
A basement?
Before he could say anything.
"Gah—gah—gah—gah!—gah!."
Crash!
Wings flapped violently. Glass shattered.
"Holy—"
Shaka turned just in time to see a crow with scarlet pupils staring through the broken window before landing on a beam.
"What was that?" Lulune asked, rushing over.
"Just a crow," Shaka replied.
Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.
Footsteps came from upstairs.
Someone was here.
The two exchanged a glance.
Lulune abandoned her casual posture and focused on the stairs. Shaka tightened his grip on the dagger.
An elderly, hunched figure descended slowly, holding a lantern.
"Who is it?" the old man grumbled.
"It's early in the morning. This place isn't open to the public. Don't disturb my rest."
An old man… or a dwarf?
Shaka squinted.
"It's already ten in the morning, old man."
The innkeeper glared at him, then froze slightly when he noticed Lulune's smile.
People from the same gray circles could recognize each other instantly.
His expression changed.
"That damned beast," the old man muttered, glancing at the shattered glass.
"Running into people's houses for no reason."
Why does that feel like an insult?
Shaka glanced at Lulune. This was her territory.
As expected, Lulune smiled and pulled out a cloth pouch. Gold coins clinked inside.
She stepped close, looped an arm around the dwarf's neck, and whispered:
"Do you want what's in this bag…
or do you want to end up like that bird?"
A gold coin flicked upward
Thud.
The crow fell dead, blood pooling beneath it.
"I...I don't quite understand what you mean," the old man stammered, weighing the pouch in his hand.
"You get one chance," Lulune said coldly.
"Getting angry over animals isn't worth it," Shaka added calmly, his eyes flashing red.
Compared to Lulune, the innkeeper was clearly more afraid of Shaka.
The Wild Instinct aura coming from the zone radiating made The old man scared
His wild instinct aura seems to have a deterrent effect after reaching a certain level
Shaka feels like his weapons seem have improved, maybe reaching the "State of Selflessness" from prince of tennis in the future is possible
"…No, no, you misunderstand," the old man laughed nervously.
"If you've come, at least tell me what you want. Otherwise, how would I know how to cooperate?"
"Didn't we already say?" Lulune glanced at Shaka.
Shaka shrugged.
…Right. He hadn't.
Lulune cleared her throat and asked:
"Did a group of mercenaries move into your inn yesterday carrying a large box?"
The old man stroked his mustache, his gaze unconsciously shifting toward a corner.
"You mean them? They went out."
"Over there?" Lulune ignored his answer and followed his gaze.
Several wine barrels blocked the area.
"Still playing tricks," Shaka scoffed.
"That's just the wine cellar," the old man said bitterly.
"Why would it be anything else?"
Truthfully, he didn't care about the mercenaries. He was just an intermediary who collected rent.
He dared to bluff only because he'd noticed the Astraea Familia emblem on Shaka.
They weren't known for indiscriminate killing.
…Unfortunately, he didn't know about Swift Wind.
Lulune pushed aside the barrels and lifted the steel plate.
The moment it opened—
Shaka's face changed.
A thick, fishy stench poured out.
The underground cellar yawned open like Pandora's box.
Rotten.
Decayed.
Unbearable.
"What…?" the old man muttered, his face turning pale.
"That's impossible. It's just a wine cellar…"
He stepped forward to check, Lulune tried to stop him but,
Its too late.
Broken limbs.
Lifeless eyes.
A severed head frozen in a silent scream.
Blackened blood smeared the walls.
The floor was soaked in viscous sludge brain matter and organs scattered everywhere.
Dismembered bodies lay in pieces, impossible to count.
It wasn't a cellar.
It was hell.