PRB | Chapter 8

Ketron, being as good-looking as he was, rarely found himself impressed by others’ appearances. No matter how beautiful or handsome someone was, he remained indifferent.

Even when others were swooning over the saintess Laila at first sight, Ketron was so unfazed that Augustine once seriously asked him, “Ketron, are you perhaps…?”

But the innkeeper, well, he was something else.

When someone first shook him awake, Ketron was engulfed by a fiery emotion, wanting to destroy everything—the continent he tried so hard to protect, all the people smiling happily, and his past companions who betrayed him.

However, before that anger could erupt like lava, the innkeeper suddenly shook him awake. At that moment, Ketron wondered if he had died and gone to heaven, only to realize he wasn’t worthy of such a place, and thus, it was reality.

Who was this man with a face that shone brilliantly even when still?

The man dragged Ketron into his inn, gave him food, and offered him a room. He even brought unfamiliar medical supplies to treat his wounds. Despite Ketron’s blatant disregard and shutting himself in the room, the man didn’t kick him out. Instead, he naturally visited Ketron again, as if on cue, when he was deeply withdrawn.

“What, you’re not crying and doing fine?”

…With such an absurd comment.

The man entered the room holding the yellow milk and medical supplies he had given earlier. Unlike the ones Ketron ignored, the milk he held was cold and glistening with moisture.

Ketron said nothing.

Regardless of Ketron’s reaction, the man sat down in front of him, ignoring the perfectly good chair and bed, as if trying to meet his eye level. He seemed quite easygoing for someone who looked like that.

“I get the food fuss, but leaving wounds untreated is just unsettling.”

Food fuss. The man’s choice of words was peculiar, like calling him a baby or a crybaby.

“You’re still young, why act like you’ve seen it all? You should get treated.”

See, calling him young again. Though he wasn’t that old, he couldn’t recall anyone treating him as young. When he was truly young, there were no adults around, and as he grew, he became a strong figure. No one dared to mention age to someone hailed as the strongest.

Yet, the man in front of him treated Ketron like a rookie, as if he were just an ordinary twenty-year-old. Naturally, the man didn’t know who Ketron was, as everyone had forgotten him, but Ketron knew his appearance was intimidating. Despite this, the man showed no hesitation.

“Mind if I take a look at your wounds?”

The man asked cautiously.

“…”

Ketron didn’t respond.

It wasn’t because he was wary of the man. He had no will to react even if someone approached with a sharp sword to his neck. The man seemed like an ordinary person with no training, so there was no reason to be cautious.

He simply had no will.

“…There’s no need.”

Ketron quietly refused. After realizing the betrayal, he rarely spoke, but today he had already spoken twice.

“Why?”

The man asked, puzzled.

What should he say? He could ignore it, but Ketron had a feeling the man would persist no matter how much he ignored him. Lowering his gaze, Ketron slowly spoke.

“I am…”

He continued calmly.

“A being who can die.”

A presence that could disappear from this world without anyone knowing. Not a metaphor, but reality. The few who remembered him probably wished for his death.

After the anger that nearly erupted this morning was quelled by the man, Ketron realized the emotions that filled him had frozen solid. There was no fuel or will to express them anymore.

Like Ketron’s existence, those emotions were mostly forgotten. Their form was now unrecognizable.

“…”

This time, the man fell silent.

Hearing a stranger express a lack of will to live would bewilder anyone. Ketron knew this, but he hoped the man would lose interest in him because of it.

Strangers, unfamiliar relationships. Usually, such words would drive people away, not wanting to get deeply involved in someone else’s life.

Indeed, the man seemed taken aback, not expecting such words.

Ketron closed his eyes, hoping the man would lose interest and leave. Once his mind settled, he planned to leave and never return.

But instead of the sound of a door closing, he heard a soft “thunk,” like something piercing a thin membrane. Opening his eyes reflexively, he saw the man sticking a thin straw into the milk container.

The man offered it to Ketron.

Ketron stared blankly at the straw, unsure of its meaning.

“Drink.”

The man said firmly, with an unfamiliar determination.

“It’s not poisoned, so you can drink it. Even if it were, you said you could die, right? So drink it. It’s sweet and feels good.”

The straw reached Ketron’s chin. Though he had never flinched from swords or arrows, the soft straw made him shrink back involuntarily.

The man insisted, placing the straw between Ketron’s lips. The sensation of the lukewarm plastic straw entering his lips genuinely startled Ketron.

“Just suck it in.”

The man kindly instructed. Unaware of being swept up by the man’s momentum, Ketron instinctively sucked the straw that had entered his lips.

The transparent straw filled with yellow, and the liquid flowed into Ketron’s mouth.

“!”

Startled by the cold, sweet, and heavy taste he had never experienced, Ketron immediately pulled away. The liquid, finding no place to go, trickled down his chin.

“Oh dear.”

The man chuckled, wiping Ketron’s chin with his hand. The yellow liquid stained the man’s fingertips.

Somehow, it felt like he was a clumsy child, just as the man had said, and Ketron looked confused.

“Don’t waste it. It’s not something you can buy.”

Here.

The man offered the straw again.

“…”

Though he had instinctively taken it the first time, Ketron now knew what the straw was for and what taste awaited him.

If anyone else had done this, Ketron would have coldly knocked the yellow container away.

But for some reason, he couldn’t do that now.

Since waking and coming to the Empire, he had sold almost everything except his holy sword to gather the money needed for travel.

No one paid attention to the young man with a desolate expression. They gave what they received, nothing more.

The man before him was the first to show kindness without expecting anything in return.

Ketron wasn’t the type to be moved by small acts of kindness, even in such moments.

But he didn’t want to spit on the face of someone smiling so brightly, as if knowing he’d accept it. He didn’t want to hurt those soft, clean hands that had never held a sword.

In the end, hesitating, Ketron took the straw into his mouth again. Having done it once, he easily sucked the liquid, which flowed into his mouth.

Cold, heavy, and also…

“Sweet, right?”

The man asked with a smile. It was a question, but not really. It was the tone of someone who was sure.

As the man said, it was sweet. The heavy, sweet taste filled his mouth. Like finding an oasis in a desert, Ketron unconsciously sucked it up, just as the man had said, like a child.

“In this world, only those who commit unforgivable sins deserve to die. Did you sin?”

Unable to answer while sucking the liquid, Ketron shook his head instead.

Sin? He was someone burdened with too much. He didn’t always use gentle methods, but there was always justice he had to protect.

The man smiled faintly, as if expecting this.

“Then live. Life isn’t that grand, and even if bad things happen, good things happen too, so we live.”

“…”

“You’re still young.”

As he said this, he patted Ketron’s head as if he were a younger brother.

“There’s plenty of time.”

Gurgle.

Right on cue, the milk container made a loud noise. Both their gazes naturally turned to it. The container, once glowing yellow from the liquid inside, was now transparent, having been emptied by Ketron.

Somehow, it felt incredibly embarrassing, and Ketron froze like a stone with the straw still in his mouth.

“How was it?”

The man asked in a casual voice. Ketron didn’t understand what he was asking for a moment. Was it about what he said, or this mysterious milk?

Soon, Ketron realized it was the latter and replied honestly without realizing it.

“It’s sweet.”

“See, it’s good, right?”

The man smiled proudly as if he had been praised.

The man’s confident question about whether it was good sounded like, “See, it’s a good thing, right?” At least to Ketron, it did.

A good thing, huh.

Ketron pondered for a moment. The rare question that filled his mind quickly provided an answer.

It seemed like a good thing.

At least, among the things that had happened in the past month, it was the best.