I Became a Ruined Character in a Dark Fantasy-Chapter 395

"What is that sword, anyway? I don't think I've ever seen it before."

Ian shrugged. "There's no rule saying I can only carry one sword. You, of all people, should know that."

"Well, yeah. But still—" Diana trailed off, her words faltering, just as a stout dwarven woman approached, balancing a large platter on her head.

While Diana fell silent, the woman set the tray on the edge of their table and swiftly offloaded the dishes onto it. Three bowls of porridge, thick and gooey like mucus, each with a wooden spoon, and three glasses of something that smelled sharply alcoholic, unusually served in glass cups.

A plate holding three grotesque-looking sausages and a glass pitcher of what appeared to be water sat in the center of the table.

"Oh."

"Hm."

Ian and Lucia hummed as they each took in different parts of the meal.

"You really came from the North?" The dwarven woman, now with her tray back on her head, suddenly asked.

Lucia, who had been scrutinizing the sausages with narrowed eyes, responded with a casual smile as if she hadn’t just been regarding them with suspicion.

The dwarven woman glanced up at Lucia with a stoic expression and added flatly, "Then, before you leave, stop by occasionally and share some stories. I'll make sure you get something a bit more edible."

As Lucia blinked in surprise, the dwarven woman abruptly turned around without waiting for a response.

Left in the awkward silence, Diana, who naturally caught Lucia's gaze, scooped up a spoonful of steaming porridge and spoke. "They occasionally hear news from the Empire or central region, but they rarely get detailed stories about the North or South. That's probably why."

"Ah, that's not too hard. I can manage that," Lucia replied, finally nodding as Ian took a bite of the porridge and let out a short hum.

Diana, still chewing, added, "Tastes like properly boiled phlegm, right?. I know."

"I'm surprised it's not completely inedible."

"Are you serious?"

"Well, I gave up on taste a long time ago," Ian replied nonchalantly.

As he spoke, Lucia picked up one of the grotesque-looking sausages between two fingers, examining it skeptically.

"I won’t ask what kind of monster's intestines these are made from," she said.

"That's for the best. And here, we don't use the term monsters," Diana said, continuing to eat her porridge without pause.

Ian then asked, "Does everyone here get their meals through rations?"

"Pretty much. If everyone ate as much as they wanted, the storage wouldn't last. Especially the alcohol. Normally, gathering meat is one of our Owls' jobs."

"Aren't there a lot of monsters, I mean beasts, that can't be eaten?" Lucia asked, raising the sausage toward her mouth.

Diana smirked slightly. "There's no such thing as an inedible game. You just need to know how to prepare it."

"Ah, I see," Lucia sighed softly while Ian nodded.

Humans had always been resourceful, finding safe ways to eat even the most poisonous fish.

Now I see why the mountain was more peaceful and quiet than other regions.

Ian silently mused to himself before speaking again. "So, did you pass the message on to the Owls?"

"Yeah. They all seemed pretty tense. As soon as preparations are done, they'll head to their patrol areas," Diana replied, still scooping up porridge as she spoke.

"They'll move in pairs. If they find the Wanderers, one will return to report. If it's a false lead, both will come back," she added.

"And if they find someone trying to step into the edge of the rift, it'll go beyond that," Lucia added.

Diana only nodded in response, her focus on eating.

Ian, eating at a more relaxed pace, commented, "So, there is no certainty on when they'll return?"

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"They can't use the rift's paths, but it still shouldn't take too long. They're all quick on their feet, even if they're not as fast as me."

"And the Wolves?" Ian asked.

"Who knows? But they're probably not faster than us. They're the kind who hate being stuck in the stronghold."

It seemed their stay in the city might last longer than expected, though for the moment, that wasn't necessarily bad news.

"This is surprisingly edible," Lucia said, chewing on the sausage thoughtfully.

"Is it?" Ian asked, popping a piece of sausage into his mouth. It wasn't nearly as awful as it looked—its saltiness far outweighed its bitterness.

"Is there a rock salt mine nearby or something?" Lucia asked.

"If you go far southwest, there's a salt plain. When the land twisted, part of the inland sea broke off and got left behind," Diana explained in a quiet tone.

Even while speaking, she continued eating her porridge and sausage without pausing. It was clear that eating quickly had become second nature to her. But soon, Diana's jaw froze mid-chew when she noticed Ian lifting the glass of liquor to his lips.

With the contents barely half-full, Ian tilted his head back and downed it in one go. His brow furrowed slightly as he lowered his head again.

"It's not as terrible as I'd heard."

"That's impossible. Are you sure your taste buds are functioning?" Diana asked, frowning.

Ian shrugged and poured Lucia's liquor into his glass. "I'm not the type to shy away from fermented stuff. And when it comes to alcohol, as long as it's strong, it's good enough for me."

The liquor tasted like a mix of industrial alcohol and ammonia. The small portion made sense—most people would be tipsy after just one glass.

"Unbelievable. Everyone else only drinks it because they have to," Diana muttered, shaking her head as she brought the glass to her lips. She held her breath before taking a sip.

"How bad is it?" Lucia asked curiously. Ian picked up the pitcher and poured water into her empty glass.

"Take a whiff and see for yourself."

"Alright, let me—ugh!" Lucia raised the glass to her lips but froze, immediately setting it back down with a scowl.

"I'd rather down a bottle of Northern spirits."

"Dramatic as much," Ian said with a chuckle, taking another sip of his glass.

As Ian and Lucia leisurely continued their meal, Diana wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. She had already finished every bit of food on her plate.

Crossing one leg over the other, she glanced around the hall before lowering her voice. "The Half-Pints. They're still staring. They must be itching to take a closer look at that armor of yours. And that beautiful sword. Well—"

She let out a low scoff. "They lose their minds over anything unusual. Seeing something this intricately crafted, they probably can't wait to get their hands on it. Honestly, it looks like it could use a craftsman's touch."

"For all that, they're surprisingly quiet."

"They’re just waiting for the right moment. If one of them makes a move, the rest will swarm in. And, well, they really hate losing.

Isn't that the same with your kind? Ian thought, chewing on the mysterious chunks in his porridge before casually adding, "Those dwarves from earlier aren't around."

"Who? Oh, the ones standing guard?" Diana said with a shrug. "They're probably still on duty. Once they're up there, they have to stay for quite a while."

"How do they keep track of their shifts?"

"They use a small hourglass, something only the guards have. It's mounted on a base made of molten gold and iron, connected with an intricate system of gears. When it's time, the current guard hands it over to the next, flips it, and the sand starts again."

Ian's gaze drifted to his glass. "Glass must be pretty common here."

"Apparently, the materials are easy to find—sand, salt, limestone, stuff like that. I'm not an expert, but this place is crawling with them, desperate to make things, so it makes sense."

"Doesn't crafting glass require extremely hot and consistent furnaces?" Lucia chimed in.

Diana shrugged again. "Ancient Half-Pints must've figured that out. Besides, this place was once a dragon's lair, after all."

A top-tier workshop, then.

Ian nodded to himself, silently musing.

This meant they could potentially acquire some exceptional items—or, with the right materials, craft almost anything they needed. It might even be possible to melt and reshape truesilver.

"So, are we done with the meal?" Ian asked, taking another bite of sausage.

Diana nodded, tilting her head slightly as if showing off. "Yeah. An excellent scout is—"

"Good. Then you can prepare the bathwater."

"—always prepa—what?" Diana stopped mid-sentence and stared at him as if she hadn't heard correctly.

Ian replied without hesitation. "Bathwater. I want to bathe as soon as we get back."

"Right now? Like, immediately?"

Ian nodded, and Diana's expression twisted in slow disbelief. "Do you even know what goes into that? Drawing water from the well, hauling it to the furnace, heating it in pots, and then—"

"You're incredibly fast. And strong. Just hurry up a little," Ian replied nonchalantly.

Diana just stared blankly.

"I know the way back, so don't worry. Besides, there's still some time left before we finish eating," he added with a faint smile.

"From the second time onward, you can take your time. If you move too fast, the water will cool down too soon."

"Second time?" Diana froze mid-thought, her lips moving almost mechanically as she muttered, "You're saying it won't end with just one?"

"Obviously not. Look at me—this mess won't clean up in one go," Ian replied casually, gesturing toward himself.

"Plus, Lucy will need water, too."

"I don't need it to be hot. Just bringing some for me is fine. Thank you, Diana." Lucia dipped her head in gratitude.

Diana stared at her blankly for a moment before closing her eyes with a long sigh. "Damn it."

Abruptly, Diana shot to her feet, spun around, and stormed off without a backward glance.

Watching her retreating figure, Lucia turned to Ian with an amused look. "You really have a knack for making people work for you, Sir Ian."

"It's just that I've spent so long being ordered around myself," Ian replied without missing a beat, resuming his meal.

With Diana gone, the gazes from around the hall became even more noticeable, especially from the dwarves.

They must really be lacking in things to tinker with, Ian thought, suppressing a wry smile as he continued chewing.

—Hmm, a new ceiling, I see.

The languid voice echoed faintly in Ian's mind a few minutes later.

"You're finally awake, Yog," Lucia murmured quietly, as if she were speaking through ventriloquism.

Yog's voice came again, slow and groggy.

—Yes, but I don't like the feeling here. It must be why I slept longer than usual. Where is this?

"Drag Velga. A city that used to be a dragon's lair. A lot has happened while you were resting."

—A dragon? Its magic alone wouldn't be enough to make this place feel so unpleasant. Anyway, I see. So, this is your destination.

Yog murmured, his voice tinged with disapproval.

Ian, having just finished his drink, lightly ran his tongue across his teeth and added, "You seem so weak; it's a refreshing sight."

"We're heading back now, so just look around the city. Quietly, like you've been doing." Setting down the empty glass, he stood and stretched. Lucia immediately followed suit, rising from her seat. Without looking back, Ian turned and strode across the now noticeably quieter dining hall.

I really end up doing all sorts of things, don't I? Ian thought, shaking his head briefly. Ignoring the stares that followed him, he walked straight out of the hall.

***

"Phew."

A contented sigh escaped Ian's lips as he sank into the steaming circular bathtub. He submerged his lower body in the hot water, bending his knees to fit comfortably. Despite the cramped position, he had no complaints.

Even the tub itself was warm, keeping the heat just like the floor.

This is heaven.

Letting his legs hang out of the tub, Ian slid his upper body deeper into the water. His thighs hung completely outside the tub from mid-point down, a necessary consequence of immersing his torso.

The bathwater had already turned murky. Ian, submerged up to his chin, lazily rubbed his body with one hand. Suddenly, he lifted his left hand out of the water, glancing toward its back.

Clunk.

The bathroom door slid open. Ian lowered his hand back into the water, turning his head to see who had entered.

There stood Diana, her head hanging in what could only be described as mortification. She carried two steaming buckets, one in each hand.

"Perfect timing." Ian groped the bottom of the tub, his fingers soon finding what he was looking for—a drain plug. "I was just about ready to change the water."

He pulled the plug, and the water began draining through a hole in the tub's side, flowing into grooves etched into the floor that led to the toilet.

"You're not seriously asking me to prepare another bath already, are you?" Diana muttered as she stepped in, only to pause abruptly. Her gaze had caught on Ian's legs, stretched out over the side of the tub.

It was a moment. As Ian sat up and pulled his legs back into the tub, Diana blinked rapidly, her eyes darting upward before she resumed walking into the room.

"Come closer to the tub," Ian said, resting his arms on the rim.

"W-What?" Diana stammered, her shoulders twitching slightly.

"To pour the water in," Ian replied with a faint chuckle.

"Oh, that's what you meant," Diana muttered, blinking again before cautiously approaching the tub, her gaze fixed slightly above him.

Meanwhile, Ian glanced down at the now-empty tub and blinked. Yog, who had been swimming in the water, seemed swept away with the drained bathwater. Ian merely shrugged his shoulders lightly and replaced the plug in the tub.

"Now we just need to fill it one more time for Lucy," he remarked casually.

"You really have a knack for wringing every bit out of people," Diana muttered, scrunching her nose as she dumped the steaming water into the tub in one swift motion. Of course, it wasn't enough to rattle Ian—he simply watched as the empty bathtub filled once more.

"I'll get it ready," Diana sighed, clicking her tongue before turning to leave.

That's when Ian stretched out his left hand. "Take those with you while you're at it."

Diana instinctively glanced in the direction he gestured, only to widen her eyes in disbelief.

In the bathroom's corner, atop a stone pedestal meant for holding towels or clothes, lay a pile of various blades. They were all hers.

Watching Diana hurry over to the pile, Ian added with a smirk, "I took three of your throwing knives. I wanted to use them. Don't worry, I'll pay for them."

As she frantically gathered the weapons, Diana's brow furrowed sharply.

"You didn't just take the daggers, did you?"

It was clear she noticed something important was missing.

"I thought you were the man who kept his promises," Diana said, her narrowed eyes gleaming with accusation. "But it seems having something in your possession made you greedy. I'm disappointed, Ian Hope."

Ian's lips curled into a faint grin. "That's harsh."

He lowered his right hand to the side of the tub, picking up a mask lying nearby. Lazily transferring it to his left hand, he spoke in a calm tone,

"I had the mask set aside to give it back to you personally."

"Personally?" Diana quickly turned, her sharp gaze locking onto the mask in Ian's hand resting on the tub's edge.

"What's the point of going to the trouble of—" she began, stepping closer, but froze mid-sentence.

She had spotted something tucked into the concave interior of the mask: a slim, neatly rolled brown object made of paper.

Diana stared at it, her lips parting soundlessly. "A cigarette?"