Dante could only afford to stay at the inn for two more days.
Any longer, and he'd have to flash another LV.5 Grassberry to cover rent—and that was definitely not a long-term strategy.
Doing so again might draw more than just bulging eyes and curious questions. He didn't want to wake up with a dagger at his throat or a guild recruiter banging on his door.
As for his other items? Selling high-level loot for gil might be worse. Word traveled fast in places like this, and nothing drew attention faster than a "mysterious outsider with gear nobody else can craft."
Bottom line: staying at the inn forever wasn't sustainable.
He needed land. A place to settle. A place where no one asked too many questions, and he could quietly live out the rest of this world cycle without getting dragged into some continent-wide crusade.
So, while chewing on toasted seed-bread over breakfast with Bluenose, he dropped the question casually:
"Is there a plot of land here where I could build a house?" he asked, like he was asking for directions to the market.
Bluenose blinked at him, mid-sip of mushroom tea. "Wait—you want to stay here?"
Dante nodded.
That was when Bluenose glanced to the side. A subtle shift. A warning sign. Dante had seen it a thousand times across a dozen worlds. That was never a good sign.
"Well," Bluenose began carefully, "adventurers and humans are welcome in certain parts of the Fey Continent. We don't dislike your kind . . . mostly. But owning land? That's . . . not possible unless you're a local citizen."
Dante grumbled under his breath while thinking. So much for Plan A.
Maybe it was time to pack up and head for the Human Continent instead. But even that came with risks.
Heroes tended to gather in human kingdoms. And if someone recognized his mark—or worse, recognized his face—he'd get dragged right back into the hero business. Again.
And he was not going through that again.
No more demon armies. No more chosen ones. No more "oh wow you're so good at fusing, please save our country." No thanks.
"However . . ." Bluenose leaned in, lowering his voice to a whisper, "there is one place. Applewood Forest. Before it fell, it was open to everyone—no matter their race, class, or background—as long as they contributed to its development."
Dante squinted. "Applewood? Isn't that under Nagi's rule now?"
Bluenose nodded solemnly. "I'm afraid so."
Dante leaned back in his chair, rubbing his jaw. So it's either dive into a wyrm-infested forest . . . or risk becoming a glorified errand boy in some human kingdom.
Not the greatest options.
"Is there really no other way?" he murmured. Maybe in some other continent.
Bluenose shook his head. "Not that I know of. The only shortcut would be gaining Sagara's permission—he's the Appletree Dragon and original guardian of the forest—but he's been asleep for decades. And with Nagi squatting in his territory, no one's been able to get near."
Dante sighed, staring into his half-eaten breakfast. He chewed slowly, then pushed his plate away and stood up.
Bluenose scrambled to his feet, startled. "Uhm—what's wrong?"
"I've decided," Dante said casually, face and voice serious. "We're going to Applewood Forest."
Bluenose stared at him like he'd grown a second head. "I—I beg your pardon?"
"We'll check out this Nagi problem for ourselves."
The little gnome's mouth dropped open. "HUH?!"
Dante didn't smile. He was serious—but in a terrifyingly casual way, like someone saying, "let's pop over to the store," except the store was a poisoned forest ruled by a demonic wyrm.
"Look," Dante said, slinging his satchel over his shoulder, "I'm not saying I'll fight it. But I want to see the area for myself." and see what kind of poison materials I could forage there.
Bluenose looked like he was about to faint. "C-Can I not go?" he squeaked.
"Alright. Let's go. Lead the way," Dante said, completely ignoring the plea, already walking toward the forest path like he was heading to a picnic.
Bluenose's ears drooped. "Th-that's a no, then . . ."
In the end, he had no idea why he couldn't just say no to this human. Maybe it was the commanding tone. Maybe it was those terrifying, calm eyes.
Or maybe it was the fact that Dante still hadn't denied eating creatures that annoyed him.