Ch.8Toward the Tinder (4)

My body aches.

Pain itself is familiar to me.

As a poor orphan whom no one cared about, I had to become accustomed to pain in order to survive in the back alleys.

But what truly hurts is having no one to rely on when you’re in pain.

I have no mother to hold me in her arms when I want to be spoiled.

No father to roll up his sleeves and stand up for me.

No friends with whom to share joys and hardships.

No lover to whisper words of love.

Once, I cursed the gods.

I asked Karil, God of Bloodshed, why he didn’t grant me the power to stir up bloody winds.

I asked Medina, Goddess of Love, why no woman appeared to love me.

I asked Logos, God of Wisdom, why he didn’t give me clever solutions to overcome my hardships.

I asked Moneta, Goddess of Prosperity, why she didn’t bestow upon me the blessing of abundance.

I cast countless curses and offered countless prayers.

But none of the Four Great Gods answered me, and eventually, I had no choice but to resign myself to my fate.

When I turned eight, exhausted with life, I tried to take my own life.

Tired of the bleakness of a future where not even despair was visible, let alone hope, I climbed a cliff overlooking the harbor.

And then… I just stared endlessly at the sea.

I watched the ships docking and departing from the pier, and the vast ocean stretching beyond the horizon.

And I thought:

With so many ships, I couldn’t even have a single plank from one of them.

With so much water, I couldn’t even freely drink a single glass.

It felt so unfair.

From that moment on, I gritted my newly growing teeth and began to earn money.

For more bread.

For warmer clothes.

For a better place to sleep.

Each time my stomach was filled, each time clothes brushed against my skin, each time I felt the touch of a blanket, I felt alive.

If someone tried to take from me, I killed them.

If there was something I didn’t know, I learned it.

And I worked that much harder.

Like the sun setting and the moon rising, like a starving beast, I refused no job.

Until now, I’ve lived like a machine.

I may not be the most unfortunate being in the world.

But the wounds I’ve suffered cannot be healed by anyone, so I will carry this pain until the day I die.

This pain that made me an adventurer.

*

“Urgh…”

I raised my tingling, numb body.

“Oh… you’re awake. Quick recovery, huh?”

“…Timothy? How… how long was I asleep?”

“Not long. About two hours?”

Timothy said that, and then brought up the topic of the thieves I had killed.

“You really fought well, didn’t you? You killed all three thieves. The police came and are investigating the tunnel, but they haven’t found anything particular yet.”

“Maybe those guys were all there was. Anyway, where’s my request form?”

“Ah, here.”

Timothy handed me the request form stamped with completion, and I took it and tucked it inside my clothes.

“Are you sure you can get up already?”

“Well, I’m a busy person. This level of injury will heal quickly with just a low-grade potion.”

“Hmm. Adventurers sure are tough.”

I looked in the mirror to check the extent of my injuries.

I had taken quite a beating, but fortunately, I was hit with fists rather than knives, so it was just swelling and bruising.

If I hadn’t been knocked out before my nose bone was hit, I would have had to pay a hefty sum to visit an orthopedic clinic.

I said goodbye to Timothy and left the room.

The place I had been staying was probably staff quarters. As soon as I came out, I encountered some employees who, upon seeing my face, recoiled in fear and moved away.

“Rickshaw!”

I called for a rickshaw in front of the cheese workshop’s gate, and one came running immediately.

As I awkwardly climbed into the rickshaw, the puller looked at my appearance and asked:

“Oh my… shall I take you to the hospital?”

“No, to the nearest potion shop, please.”

“Yes, sir.”

*

After paying the rickshaw puller, I opened the door to the potion shop and entered.

Inside the potion shop, there was a strong medicinal smell similar to a pharmacy. Seeing me wearing a sword, the shopkeeper folded the newspaper he was reading and approached.

“What can I get you?”

“One low-grade healing potion.”

“Hmm… are your bones okay?”

“They’re fine, just bruised.”

“Well, if that’s the case.”

The shopkeeper handed me a low-grade healing potion from the display counter.

I saw the number “30” on the potion’s neck and gave the shopkeeper thirty copper coins. When the shopkeeper nodded, I downed the potion.

Gulp! Gulp!

I had rarely drunk a potion whole like this before.

Potions themselves were virtually the only medical system accessible to poor orphans like me.

I had used them many times, but they were mostly diluted in water—hardly even potion solutions, more like potion-infused water—in shady places.

Naturally, since they stretched a single dose into 10 or even 100 doses, their effectiveness was reduced, and the manufacturing process was so unsanitary that drinking them carelessly could lead to all sorts of problems.

But for low-income people who couldn’t even afford a loaf of bread, there was no choice.

There were simply too many people on the brink of starvation.

“Phew!”

After drinking the entire potion, I looked at myself in the full-length mirror provided in a corner of the shop.

Ssshhh…

“Huh. It’s amazing every time I see it.”

As the bruises on my face disappeared and the swelling subsided in real-time, I muttered that one should always use genuine products.

“Give me the potion bottle. I’ll recycle it.”

“Isn’t this medical waste?”

“Potion ingredients are environmentally friendly, unlike other medicines. And if you take the empty bottles back to the potion company, they pay good money for them.”

“Oh, I see.”

Potions are only effective for external injuries.

Things like punctured organs or burns.

But if you caught the flu or had enteritis, you needed the pills in those white packets sold by pharmacists.

Of course, adventurers were much more likely to suffer external injuries than internal ones that could kill them, so the demand for potions was always high.

“Don’t you sell elixirs here?”

“Elixirs? Come on. Even nobles bow before drinking those precious things. Haven’t you heard the story? About the shepherd who found an elixir and became a lord?”

When I asked about elixirs, the shopkeeper snorted.

Elixirs were naturally occurring potions with very impressive effects.

Assuming no decay had set in, they could bring the dead back to life.

Another notable effect was that they prevented the drinker from aging.

For elves, it was said they would revert to children, while dwarves would never have their beards turn white.

For humans, the shortest-lived race, physical aging apparently stopped at 60 years.

High-grade potions were a feat that couldn’t be imitated even if you died and came back to life.

*

Jingle~ Jingle~

Back at the Adventurers’ Guild.

First, I approached the reception desk to report the completion of my request.

“Request completed.”

“Please wait a moment… Mr. Viktor. Is it correct that you killed three thieves during the request?”

“What about it?”

“Thieves are valued at one silver coin each. Along with the one silver coin reward for the request, I’ll give you a total of four silver coins.”

“Ohhh…”

“If any of them were bandit leaders or wanted criminals, you could also receive corresponding additional rewards.”

I was pleased by the unexpected reward.

Is luck on my side?

Somehow, I’ve been getting nice side income lately.

In a good mood, I hummed a tune as I headed to the request board to take on an afternoon job.

The request board was quiet, with people saying today’s requests weren’t very rewarding.

There weren’t many appealing requests this morning either, but given the time, the rotation of requests should have cycled at least twice.

That meant there might be something I could take on.

With that in mind, I lowered my head and after browsing for a few minutes, I accepted a request to chop firewood.

*

The place that needed firewood chopped was a bathhouse. The person who was originally supposed to come suddenly fell ill, so I was brought in as a replacement.

Honestly, the pay wasn’t great compared to the labor intensity, but in my case, I was more concerned with meeting my quota than the money.

I had already earned enough from this morning’s job to cover a week’s worth of inn fees and food, so this was just extra pocket money.

Chopping firewood itself wasn’t difficult since I had experience, but because it was a bathhouse, I had to keep the fire going continuously, which meant no breaks.

Moreover, chopping wood right next to the fire made the heat unbearable. If I hadn’t taken off my coat, I would have been cooked alive.

After working straight for 7 hours, I stopped by the Adventurers’ Guild and collected thirty copper coins.

Then I returned to the Iron-Scaled Trout Inn, had dinner, took a bath, and thoroughly washed and dried my armor and clothes.

When I lay down on the bed and looked at the time, it was exactly 30 o’clock, and I fell asleep before the sun set.

Today was truly a fulfilling day.