Show Me Your Stats!

After spending some time chatting about various things, it was already lunchtime. Ayra stepped out of Shinje’s room and glanced out the window. White smoke curled up from chimneys all over the small town as people prepared their meals.

‘I still have more than 200 people left to complete the quest.’

With nothing pressing to do, Ayra was feeling a bit bored. More importantly, she wanted to see the actual state of the estate—something Jinas refused to show her. With three good reasons lined up, her destination was naturally decided. Her gaze flicked toward the two knights standing a short distance away. They were the ones Jinas had assigned as her guards, never straying from her side for even a moment.

‘Since I’m the only heir now, it makes sense to have escorts... but why does it feel more like I’m being watched?’

After a brief moment of contemplation, Ayra began walking. The knights, as expected, followed closely behind. Upon reaching her bedroom, she turned to them just before stepping inside.

“I’m tired, so I’m going to sleep. I don’t want to be disturbed. Stand guard and don’t let anyone in until I say otherwise.”

“Yes, Lady Ayra.”

The knights responded with disciplined precision and took their positions on either side of the door. Once inside, Ayra didn’t head for the bed. Instead, she walked straight to the wardrobe. She opened it and picked out the plainest robe she owned, put it on, then stepped onto the terrace. A brisk wind flapped at her robes, making her shudder. “Ugh.” Wrapping the fabric tighter around herself, she immediately jumped down.

It was a four-story drop. Before her body could crash to the ground, the earth surged up, as if it had a will of its own, gently cushioning her fall. The moment her feet touched the ground, the earth settled back into its original state as if nothing had happened. Ayra glanced around to ensure no one had seen her before confidently striding away.

She headed toward the most secluded and desolate area, near the towering outer walls of the estate. With a light, rhythmic tapping sound—tap, tap—she seemed to step on empty air and ascend the wall. Her silver hair fluttered like a cape over her robe as she moved with ease, stepping up the height and then descending again just as gracefully. Once on solid ground, she reached out and caught the small spirit pebble flitting around her.

“Hmm, now what should I do with you?”

Judging by the reactions of her retainers, it didn’t seem like the estate’s residents would react well to seeing the spirit.

As Ayra pondered, the pebble wriggled free from her grip and smoothly melted into the back of her hand. In its place, a tiny tattoo-like mark resembling the pebble appeared. It looked just like a character from a pixel game. Amused, Ayra rubbed her fingers over it, and pink heart symbols popped up with a cheerful bloop, bloop. She chuckled before pulling the hood of her robe over her head and quietly making her way into the town.

The simplest and most straightforward way to gauge the estate’s condition was by observing its people. Ayra had been dispatched on several field missions from the Mage City: Labyrinth, and she had seen a clear difference between prosperous estates and struggling ones.

Blending into the town’s daily life, Ayra moved through the streets, the hem of her robe billowing slightly. The scent of food wafted from every direction—it was lunchtime, after all. The estate’s residents were blunt in speech and rough in manner, and while they didn’t look particularly happy, they didn’t appear to be starving or miserable either.

However... everyone was dressed in thin clothing.

It wasn’t just a matter of poverty—no one seemed cold. Not a single person was shivering despite wearing short sleeves in this chilly weather. Ayra glanced down at her own outfit. She was wearing a thick, long-sleeved linen shirt and long pants, layered with a long outer garment that draped down like a skirt, and topped with a robe—perfect for this breezy autumn weather.

‘Why is everyone wearing short sleeves in this weather? Aren’t they cold? Is it just me...? No, it’s definitely cold out here!’

Pulling her robe tighter around her, Ayra continued to explore the town at a leisurely pace.

Solar Estate was located in a cold and barren northern region. As expected, its people were quiet and tough. Unlike the warm and gentle speech patterns of the South, the atmosphere here was the complete opposite. Yet, since Solar had the largest population in the region, the town was bustling with life.

‘At first glance, nothing seems particularly wrong.’

She scanned the streets, looking for a place where she could casually strike up a conversation. Eventually, she slipped into what seemed to be a tavern. The warmth inside was noticeably better than the cold outside. Several people were already drinking, their faces flushed from the alcohol, despite it being the middle of the day.

As she opened Stat Windows one by one, Ayra sat at an empty table. Soon, the tavern owner, dressed in a worn apron, approached and gruffly asked,

“What’ll you be ordering?”

“Hmm... just give me the most popular dish.”

Since there wasn’t a menu, Ayra glanced around before making her request. The owner gave her a once-over, wiggled his eyebrows a few times, then turned around and headed toward the kitchen without a word. Before long, a plate of food was placed in front of her. There was pickled fish, a spicy-smelling red oily soup, and blackish, rock-hard bread.

The owner folded his arms and stared at Ayra as if watching her closely. She examined the familiar yet unfamiliar meal with interest. She took a spoonful of the soup first. Though it didn’t have as much meat as what she was used to eating at the castle and was slightly saltier, the taste was still familiar. As she ate without hesitation, the owner’s furrowed brows gradually relaxed.

“...Wait, you’re not an outsider?”

At a nearby table, a man drinking alcohol alongside a plate of some kind of dried meat showed interest. When Ayra looked up, her silver hair and ash-gray eyes caught his attention, and he nodded.

“Well, yeah, you look like a local.”

“True, true. Pale as hell.”

Most people in Solar had light-colored hair and gray eyes, likely due to the lack of sunlight. The man speaking to Ayra, however, had thick, shaggy brown hair and deep hazel eyes. He suddenly extended a hand toward her and said—

"I'm Hera."

"I'm Ayra."

Just as she had been wondering how to naturally start a conversation with the townsfolk, this opportunity presented itself. Ayra readily accepted the offered handshake. When Hera grinned, a scar that hadn’t been noticeable before caught the light. The other patrons, however, didn’t seem particularly eager to engage with her—most only cast half-curious, half-wary glances her way.

"So, do you live around here?" Hera asked.

"I think I will from now on. I was working in the southern regions, but I’ve just returned home."

At Ayra’s response, the tavern owner finally uncrossed his arms, visibly relaxing his guard.

"Oh, so you’re a local! I thought you were some drifter rolling in from who-knows-where. Here, since you’ve returned home after a long time, have a drink on the house."

With that, he poured a small cup of strong-smelling liquor and placed it in front of her. Ayra took a sip out of politeness—only to gasp as the fiery liquid burned its way down her throat. It felt as if her esophagus was being scorched. Meanwhile, Hera, now comfortably seated right next to her, poured a full cup of the same drink and downed it in one go.

"I travel out for work often too. Ah, last time, I had a hell of a time hunting down a Myurka the size of a damn hill. Look at this—got a wound from it, too."

She showed off what was barely a visible scratch, something one would have to squint to even notice. Ayra, however, knew exactly what a Myurka was. The horns of the creature, often used as research materials by mages, were nearly a meter in diameter alone. Just imagining the size of the creature’s actual body was enough to put things into perspective.

Hera’s drinking companions scoffed.

"This guy never opens his mouth without spouting nonsense."

"He claims he took down a Rokma in a single swing, or that he fought a Garut all day and ended in a draw. And yet, there's never any proof!" @@novelbin@@

Even as he was met with open mockery, Hera shamelessly insisted that he was telling the truth, weaving increasingly exaggerated tales. It was the kind of bravado middle-aged men tended to indulge in. Just like how she had humored the older, long-experienced mages in the Labyrinth, Ayra responded at the right moments, playing along before subtly shifting the topic.

"Then you must be making a lot of money."

"Oh, tons! But when you make a lot, you gotta spend a lot too."

"Is it easy to make a living here these days?"

Although Ayra had directed the question at Hera, it was the others at the table who answered first. Complaints spilled forth—about how raising kids drained money, how it was harder to secure food as the weather got colder. Ayra listened attentively, nodding along.

And, as expected, the conversation naturally veered toward concerns about the estate.

"But who knows what’ll happen to this territory now."

"Yeah, after that terrible misfortune with the lord... What a tragedy."

"Oh, Morunka, guide our lord and his family to peace."

For a brief moment, the room fell into a solemn silence as the townsfolk traced the sign of Morunka’s blessing in the air, offering a moment of prayer. Though Ayra didn’t believe in Morunka, she followed suit, silently hoping that her family, like herself, would be reborn in a good place.