PRB | Chapter 6

What kind of comfort suits a hero who has lost everything?

Eddie, once addicted to web novels, had a few impressive and touching scenes in mind, but those were actions only characters with deep bonds with the protagonist could take.

Like a passionate lover, adoptive parents who raised them, or a mentor who taught them everything.

Hugging, taking them to a place full of memories, or delivering an awe-inspiring line—those were roles for people like that, not something a stranger who just met them could do. It was overly grand.

In the end, all he could offer were extremely simple things.

Of course, banana milk couldn’t replace all that comfort.

The man, whose solitary sorrow had been interrupted, sat in the inn, lost in a whirlwind of confused emotions, and eventually chose to sink into a dull stillness, as if he had given up searching for a way out.

The way his dark eyes, once flickering like flames, turned lifeless was unsettling.

The banana milk Eddie had thoughtfully prepared with a straw didn’t even catch Ketron’s gaze. Having been in a cold place, the bottle left a round water mark on the table.

Though he had brought him in, as mentioned before, Eddie wasn’t that remarkable a person. Not in this world, nor in Ketron’s.

He couldn’t offer grand comfort, nor was he in a position to do so.

“Hey, are you hurt?”

In the quiet space, the unmistakable metallic smell of blood lingered, prompting Eddie to ask quietly.

Having read the novel and seen the blood when he shook Ketron awake outside, Eddie was certain.

Ketron still didn’t respond. He didn’t even look at Eddie.

Eddie sighed softly, watching the unresponsive figure he had miraculously brought inside.

Yeah, your injuries probably don’t matter to you right now.

But as an ordinary citizen, Eddie was concerned about those injuries. If his hand was stained with blood just from touching him, how much pain must he be in now?

Having read the novel, Eddie knew how many life-threatening situations Ketron had faced and how often he’d been injured, but that didn’t mean the injuries didn’t hurt.

Eddie quietly got up and headed to the basement, leaving Ketron behind.

The convenience store Eddie ran was a 24-hour one, meaning he could legally sell pharmaceuticals.

While things like band-aids and pain relief patches could be sold anywhere, some medicines, including oral ones, could only be sold at 24-hour convenience stores.

This meant that modern medicines were readily available at Eddie’s store.

“Hmm.”

Eddie stood in front of the medicine section, pondering with his chin in hand.

He wasn’t a doctor, and he hadn’t examined the wound, but even to him, Ketron’s injuries looked like those of someone with festering wounds. If there were any medicines in the store, they would surely help.

Using holy water from the temple would be ideal, but it was a luxury for nobles, and Eddie, a not-so-successful innkeeper, couldn’t afford it.

So, finding a local doctor would be wise, but the surgeons of this era were more like “You’re in pain because of the wound! So, let’s remove the wound!”—not someone he wanted to approach.

– In medieval times, a good surgeon was someone who could amputate quickly.

Recalling some trivia he saw on YouTube, Eddie shuddered. He resolved to be careful and avoid breaking a leg or anything.

Gerald seemed to know quite a bit of magic, so he might be able to use healing magic, but Eddie decided not to confirm that this time.

If the wound healed immediately, there would be no excuse to keep Ketron at the inn. Unless it was a critical injury, a little festering should be fine.

If he left the inn, he might start a journey to die, having lost the will for revenge. Look at those lifeless eyes now.

While he was worried about the protagonist turning dark, he also didn’t want to leave this lonely young man alone. Any fan of “The Hero Doesn’t Hide His Power Well” would feel the same.

So, Eddie had only one choice.

Just as Eddie returned with a bundle of medicines, Gerald was serving a decent bowl of soup in front of Ketron.

The savory smell was so good that even Eddie, who wasn’t particularly hungry, found his mouth watering.

“Thanks, Gerald.”

Eddie thanked him, and Gerald nodded and quietly stepped back. He must have had many questions, but like a loyal servant, Gerald was always faithful to Eddie.

Eddie placed the medicines he brought on the table where Ketron was sitting and sat across from him.

“Aren’t you hungry? Eat up. After you eat, let’s take a look at that wound.”

The lifeless eyes briefly glanced at the soup before returning to Eddie. Judging by the novel’s description, Ketron hadn’t eaten or slept properly for days, yet he showed no desire for the delicious food in front of him.

Instead of eating, he slowly opened his mouth.

“Why are you helping me?”

It was a deep, low voice, far from what you’d expect from a twenty-year-old. A voice that seemed to have weathered all the storms of the world.

Indeed, even if you combined all the hardships faced by ordinary twenty-year-olds in Eddie’s world and this one, few would have endured as much as Ketron.

Ketron was a character who had grown through countless trials since childhood, as protagonists often do. He fought the Demon King for the fate of the world and won, but… he was the tragic hero robbed of even that glory.

“Just because.”

Such an answer might be rude to a protagonist like him.

“…Is that not okay?”

Eddie laughed out loud. It was an awkward laugh. He couldn’t help but look suspicious. What could he do when his heart was drawn to it?

“You seemed to have a story just by looking at you. I’m really good at sensing those things.”

Not really. He’d been criticized for being oblivious. He just read the original work diligently. Of course, he couldn’t say that, so Eddie mumbled something vague.

If he said it was because Ketron looked so pitiful, he might be told to shove his cheap sympathy, so Eddie lightly wrapped his reason for sympathy.

“In a world where it feels stupid not to shout out loud that you’re happy.”

Outside, unlike the quiet inn, it was noisy. As if everyone was truly happy.

“I’m not so cold-hearted that I can’t offer a bowl of soup to someone who’s alone.”

Saying that, Eddie forced a spoon into Ketron’s hand. The spoon in his large hand, calloused from wielding a sword through countless experiences, looked like a child’s toy.

Unfortunately, Eddie had no legitimate justification for helping Ketron.

Ketron was a forgotten hero. He couldn’t say it was because he was a hero, nor could he say it was because he was a fan of the novel, so it was natural that he had no plausible excuse.

This was crude and pathetic sympathy.

But even such crude things were needed by Ketron right now.

“I won’t ask about your story. You probably don’t want to tell it, and I’m not curious. …Fortunately, there’s a room available. Feel free to stay here until then.”

He wondered if Ketron would refuse, but with no money, injuries, and being forgotten by others, Ketron seemed to have no other choice, so refusal didn’t seem likely.

No, to be precise, he seemed to have no will or anything to refuse with. The dead eyes, showing no attachment to life, didn’t respond at all.

There was no reaction to Eddie’s flimsy reason, whether he accepted it or not.

Even though Eddie had given him a spoon, Ketron seemed uninterested in eating. Originally, Eddie planned to check his wounds after Ketron finished eating, but what now?

After a moment of thought, Eddie decided to suggest treating the wounds first. He couldn’t just leave the bleeding as it was.

Alright, Eddie, having made up his mind, spoke to Ketron.

“If you’re going to eat later, can I take a look at your wounds? I have some famous medicines from the East.”

Saying that, Eddie began taking out the items he had brought in a basket. Each one looked unfamiliar and out of place in a fantasy world.

“There’s medicine that helps wounds heal quickly, bandages to prevent infection, and pain relief medicine.”

Maxxol, large dressing sheets, and Tylenol.

Those were the three medicines Eddie laid out. Eddie wore a shameless expression, but if he had shown these medicines in Korea and said such things, he would have been labeled a fraud instantly.

But now, Eddie was confident.

It’s true. My convenience store was in Korea, so it came from the East, and these are famous brand medicines made by PhDs.

Eddie, who had preemptively justified himself to no one in particular, smiled brightly.

That smile was unmistakably that of a con artist.