Chapter 13: A Bitter Taste

The task Van brought me was an extension of the Goblin village incident.

Not as dangerous as last time, but far more stomach-churning.

It involved recovering the victims’ remains.

Though we’d burned the goblins’ dwellings and totems last time, we hadn’t cleaned up the messily scattered corpses.

“Are we delivering these to their families?”

As I fought back nausea while sorting fragmented body parts and bones, Van looked at me like I’d said something absurd.

“These? To their families? Have you no heart?”

“Huh…?”

“Showing these corpses would be worse than not showing anything. Our job is to ensure they’re no longer desecrated – collect them so the Adventurer’s Guild can cremate or bury them properly.”

Van chastised me seriously as he gathered remains with gloved hands.

Maggots squirmed everywhere while flies and other insects swarmed.

I didn’t want to understand what “no longer desecrated” meant, but understood anyway.

“……Then how should we inform their families?”

“That’s the guild’s job, not ours. They’ll track down relatives to deliver the news.”

Van sighed and came over to inspect the remains I’d collected.

“Hey, you need to properly shake off these bugs.”

“Understood…”

“Ellie.”

“Yes?”

When I tilted my head in response, Van remained silent for a moment before speaking.

“Why do you think I’m bothering with you like this?”

Van muttered while examining a severed finger from some unknown victim.

The sudden question caught me off guard, but Van’s unusually solemn tone made me choose my words carefully.

“…Come to think of it, you’ve been kind but kept telling me unpleasant things.”

Even when I descended into that pit to cut off a goblin’s nose, he’d given unnecessary threats-that-weren’t-really-threats.

He’d told me many things about adventurers, most overwhelmingly negative.

“Do you want me to quit being an adventurer?”

“…That’s your choice. I’m not important enough to tell people what to do.”

But- Van continued.

“It’s just… pitiful seeing someone so young choose a hand-to-mouth job where you could die any day.”

Apparently, Van didn’t much like the adventuring profession itself.

Despite being one.

“Actually, that was strange. From the moment you waved me over despite my obvious physical limitations and asked if I could fight.”

I’d thought maybe he had terrible eyesight or was unprejudiced when he called over my clearly weak frame.

Probably called me over because a kid claiming to be an adventurer seemed novel.

“But Van, doesn’t your conscience prick you saying you cared about me?”

“…What.”

“You threw a clueless rookie into a near-fatal Goblin Extermination Operation as bait. With an 8:2 split contract.”

Regardless of Van not being evil, his current serious talk felt somewhat laughable considering that.

“…I told you, right? I’m not important enough to dictate others’ choices. Sure, I suggested the goblin hunt, but honestly thought you’d chicken out.”

Van’s awkward expression made me click my tongue unconsciously.

“You thought I’d get scared just hearing about goblins?”

“Uh…”

“Why?”

“Because I did.”

“Coward.”

It was hard to imagine the 190cm muscle mountain before me ever being scared.

As if sensing my doubt, Van mumbled in an uncharacteristically timid voice:

“Well, I was young then.”

“How old?”

“Shortly after becoming an adventurer. Almost ten years ago.”

If he’s mid-twenties now, that meant mid-teens back then.

Understandable to fear monsters at that age.

Anyway.

“Stop beating around the bush. If you’ve got something to say, say it. Your preamble’s too long.”

“Is it?”

Though unsure why he was dragging this out, I simply nodded since anything he said would leave me indifferent. Van studied my expression before bluntly stating:

“You’ve got no talent. If you want to live even a little longer, quit adventuring.”

“You can recognize talent?”

“Being talentless myself, I spot the untalented well.”

‘No talent.’

I understood what he meant.

“Van, you regret it.”

“Always. But now I’m only fit for this work.”

Van shrugged. I eyed him critically.

He’d started adventuring ten years ago.

Now, a decade later, he remained Bronze rank.

I’d heard Silver rank was needed for proper treatment as an adventurer.

If true, Van still wasn’t properly respected after ten years.

The reason was obvious – lack of talent.

Frustrated by his limitations, he’d stagnated.

Hating himself, he projected onto me, urging me to quit.

For my sake? Or his?

Unclear, but my answer was set.

“I won’t regret it. I know I lack talent, but I like this job.”

“Is that so.”

Being an adventurer covered my slum origins.

That alone gave me no reason to quit.

“Then that’s fine. I’ll stop with the unsolicited advice.”

Van sighed with mixed emotions at my answer and resumed sorting remains.

“If you find ID badges or belongings, set them aside.”

“Okay…”

Since showing these remains to families was impossible.

We could only wash their belongings clean before returning them.

“…Almost done.”

“Nine victims. Worse than expected.”

Five female heads on the totem, three male heads scattered about – I’d thought eight total.

But a skull found in the corner brought the count to nine.

“We should’ve exterminated them sooner.”

“No use saying that now. Let’s pack them separately into the bags we brought.”

“Okay…”

Before packing, Van and I bowed slightly to the remains.

Van had taught me this custom.

I’d thought this medieval world treated human life worse than insects.

Turns out they treated the dead better than expected.

“Let’s go.”

“Okay…”

Van and I returned carrying bags of remains.

After a simple funeral, my payment was one Silver Coin.

Since this wasn’t fighting goblins but cleanup, the pay was less than last time.

After parting with Van, I returned to the inn.

Trained with my sword for two hours, washed up, and slept.

Next day, though sore everywhere, I woke on time.

Blisters covered my feet and toenails had blackened. They’d probably fall off soon.

My body was wrecked from overexertion.

But I couldn’t rest.

Thinking this, I skipped the guild to train nine hours straight.

That was my entire day.

Another day came.

Went to the guild for a simple request.

A follow-up to last time’s underground warehouse rat extermination.

Now that rats were gone, they wanted the warehouse cleaned – the surprisingly high fee made refusal impossible.

A full two Silver Coins.

Confidently offering to clean, they lent me tools.

The mansion’s attached warehouse was monstrously large, but after two sleepless nights of struggle, I finished.

Returning to the inn, I slept through an entire day.

Though stunned, my situation couldn’t afford rest, so I headed straight to the guild.

Van greeted me upon entering, saying he’d secured another extermination request requiring travel.

Unsure why he told me, I waved him off.

The gruff-looking man who’d lent him gold and the unpleasant woman who called me bold accompanied him.

Thinking the guild would be quiet awhile, I took an herb-gathering request and climbed the mountain.

Filling a bag with herbs earned 50 Copper Coins.

Four days passed. Van didn’t return.

Apparently, “far” meant very far indeed.

I began growing accustomed to adventuring.

With my unpleasant aura, nobody approached like Van had.

Though spared annoyance, I felt somewhat lonely.

Constant requests had eased money worries, so today focused solely on sword training.

Three more days passed.

The gruff-looking man returned alone, missing an arm.

What happened was obvious.

I eavesdropped on his report.

Though they’d succeeded in exterminating monsters, bandits ambushed them during return. Van and Cheshire died.

Though not devastated enough to weep, it left a bitter taste.