Chapter 12: Trouble's Already Here
Before heading out to "watch the fun," Steven had one important prerequisite to take care of—changing his clothes.
The rags on his body weren't even worthy of being called rags, and after being splattered with Gladiia's blood earlier, he had no reason to keep wearing them.
Still, he didn't just toss them away. Instead, he folded them into his inventory. Even the most useless gear deserved a spot as a keepsake, right?
Thankfully, the old village chief worked fast. By the time he had stripped out of his ruined outfit, the man had already sent over two sets of clothing that fit him reasonably well.
He ran a hand over the fabric—it had the rough, itchy texture of burlap, far from comfortable. But he had no complaints. He slipped them on without hesitation.
As long as he wasn't stark naked, he wasn't picky.
But when he picked up the other set of clothes—a woman's dress—Steven couldn't help but glance at the girl lying back on the bed.
With her current intelligence level, could she really manage something as complicated as changing clothes on her own?
And if he helped her… wasn't that a bit too improper?
His worries, however, proved unnecessary. As soon as Gladiia saw him finish dressing, she mimicked his actions, scooping up the remaining clothes and awkwardly trying to put them on herself.
"You're supposed to take the old ones off first, you know."
Steven covered his face with a hand, pointing at her bizarre outfit as he gave her a helpless reminder.
To his surprise, Gladiia actually seemed to understand. She immediately began to undress.
The second she started, Steven spun on his heel, forcing himself not to pay attention to the sounds of fabric rustling behind him.
As long as she could handle it by herself, everything was fine. Otherwise, he really wouldn't have known what to do.
When the shuffling sounds finally stopped, he cautiously turned back around.
Gone was the strange, exotic outfit that had lent her the sharp, deadly aura of a drawn blade. Now, dressed in nothing more than a simple long-sleeved linen dress, she looked like the very picture of an ordinary girl-next-door.
The moment she saw him turn, Gladiia hurried over and latched onto his arm, her face blooming with a pure, happy smile.
Steven could pretty much guess what was going through her simple little head.
In her current childlike state, just wearing matching clothes with her "family" must have been enough to fill her with joy.
Children really were the easiest to satisfy. With so few desires, it didn't take much to make them happy.
Sighing, Steven accepted his role as her "father" a little more fully. He adjusted the ill-fitted clothes she'd haphazardly thrown on, then picked up the still-warm garments she had shed and tucked them into his inventory.
That was the advantage of having an inventory: whether it was spare clothes or that bizarre trident-like weapon she'd carried, everything could be stored away neatly and retrieved whenever needed. No space issues whatsoever.
All these things belonged to her. Once Gladiia regained her memories, he'd return them properly.
"Dad. Hungry."
Gladiia stood obediently by his side, watching patiently as Steven finished tidying up. Only then did she shyly pat her stomach, her voice soft as she confessed her current predicament.
"Wake up and the first thing on your mind is food, huh? You're really like a kid."
Steven covered his face with one hand, sighing. He glanced at the hunk of bread on the table, only a small corner bitten off, and decided against tormenting the poor girl's stomach with it.
She was still recovering—she needed real food.
"I'll go dig up some coal later and roast potatoes for you. For now, here—snack on this."
He pulled a carrot from his inventory and handed it to her, giving the tall girl beside him a gentle pat on the head. Despite standing, she was still shorter than him.
Come to think of it, just that little kiss earlier had netted him nearly five hundred points. He'd almost wavered then and there.
And that was only a kiss. If they'd gone all the way to the bed… wouldn't the rewards be insane?
Shame. That was something he could only joke about. Steven wasn't deranged enough to exploit someone's amnesia just to farm points.
A man needed to have principles.
After straightening up his new clothes in front of a mirror, Steven studied the reflection of the tall, striking youth staring back.
So many years had passed, and his face hadn't changed at all. Honestly, could he even still call himself "human" at this point?
The familiar face staring back at him—no longer a pixelated, blocky avatar—made him chuckle.
This was a good thing. Longer life, stronger body—who cared if he wasn't human anymore? Plenty of people would gladly give up their humanity for a little more time.
And the longer he lived, the more fun he could stumble into.
There was no need to waste time pondering empty questions like the "meaning of life." He turned, ready to head out with his little tagalong in tow—
—but before he could even push the door open, it swung inward from the outside.
Standing there was the village chief, his expression unusually grim.
He had never seen the old man like this.
"Gather your things and come with me. I know a secret way out of the village."
No pleasantries, no explanations—just an urgent command.
"Hah? I came here to rest. Why are you rushing me off already?"
"There's no time to explain. The Inquisition is already at the village gates."
The village chief grabbed Steven's arm, trying to pull him toward the back exit.
Steven let himself be dragged, Gladiia trailing along behind like a little shadow. But as they went, he noticed something strange.
For someone his age, the old man's grip was unnaturally strong—like an iron clamp around his arm. Not exactly pleasant.
Yet Steven just kept smiling, tilting his head toward the village chief as he asked lightly, "And why's that a problem?"
"Don't be ridiculous! You're an Ægir. If the Inquisition discovers you here, we're all in deep trouble."
The village chief's anxious words spilled out in a rush. But soon enough, he staggered, nearly falling, because Steven had stopped moving altogether.
The boy stood unmoving, as unyielding as a mountain. His gaze wasn't on the village chief anymore, but fixed on something behind him.
A beam of light cut through the darkness, blinding them both.
"Mm. Looks like the trouble's already here."
Squinting against the glare, Steven finally made out the figure standing in the road ahead—a thin girl holding a longsword, blocking their path.
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Note: Character Illustration is in this Google Drive:
https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/1iuyfwNVFHzIi9H4rWNT_lAm7jTSiah_M