After the loading of the dead wild boar was done, the cartman covered it with a thick cloth. It was clear this was not his first time carrying hunted animals to town; he moved with the practiced ease of someone who knew exactly how to handle them. They began the trek toward the town. With Gojo's current speed, he could have reached it in twenty minutes if he ran at full speed—but he couldn't. He had to match the cartman's pace, and what would normally take an hour stretched into nearly two. The rhythmic creak of the cart wheels over uneven ground echoed faintly in the late morning air, mingling with distant calls of birds.
Gojo guided the cartman straight to Martha's restaurant. When they arrived, he paused outside, adjusting the blindfold over his eyes. "You wait here. I'll return in a moment," he said. Entering the restaurant, he maintained a composed expression. Martha looked up at the sound of the doorbell and smiled, her face bright with delight. "You haven't been here in over a month. The last time you came, it was only to ask about the prices of animal parts and meats. Now you've finally returned after all these days."
Gojo's voice was calm as he replied, "I didn't have any work in town until now, so I had no reason to come. Today, I have a purpose. You remember last time you said that if I were able to hunt an animal, you would buy what I gained."
Martha nodded after hearing Gojo's words and said, "So it seems you have finally started your career as a hunter."
Gojo nodded in return. Good, she still remembers. That makes this easier, he thought, feeling the faint tug of anticipation beneath the blindfold.
Martha then asked, "Which animal did you hunt?" She expected something small—maybe a deer at most—but Gojo's next words froze her completely.
"It's a giant boar, and it's quite big. I don't know if you can buy the whole boar from me," he said calmly.
Martha blinked in surprise, then quickly collected herself. "Oh, really? Then show me—I want to see what you've gained." Gojo nodded. "Follow me," he said, stepping out of the restaurant toward the cart outside. Martha came out from behind the counter and followed him. As they exited, sunlight flooded the street, carrying with it the scent of freshly baked bread and faint smoke from nearby chimneys.
Gojo led her to the cart and removed the thick cloth covering the giant boar. "What do you think?" he asked.
Martha's eyes widened beneath the brim of her hat. "It seems I underestimated you, boy. You wait here a moment; I'll return immediately." She hurried back inside, and within moments returned. "Follow me," she said. The cartman lifted the cart again, and they followed behind Martha and Gojo. The distance was short, just to the back door of the restaurant. Martha stopped and said, "You wait here. I'll bring some people to pick this boar up, and only after butchering it can its price be known." Gojo nodded, remaining calm, and simply waited on the side, the faint breeze brushing against his blindfold as he listened to the distant clatter of the town around him.
A few men arrived and lifted the boar from the cart, carrying it through the back door of the restaurant. Gojo stayed by the side, blindfolded, listening to the muted thuds and muffled voices as the butchering began. He turned slightly to the cartman and said, "I don't have any money on me right now. Only when I get paid after selling this can I give you your remuneration. So you'll have to wait." The cartman merely nodded, accepting it without complaint.
The process of scaling and butchering stretched on for about an hour, the distant sounds of chopping and scraping filling the air. Finally, Martha appeared, motioning toward the back. "Come, look at the weight for yourself." Gojo lifted his blindfold slightly, the light and sharp scent of raw meat greeting him as he stepped up to the scale. The pointer wobbled and creaked before settling at around 1,200 pounds. The remaining parts of the boar didn't amount to much, worth only a few berries.
Martha turned to Gojo, her eyes keen with business sense. "Right now, the going rate for meat—especially boar—is around 200 berries. I can offer you about 240,000 berries for the whole thing." Not bad, Gojo thought, a quiet satisfaction settling over him from the success of his hunt.
Gojo nodded after hearing the price quoted by Martha. He could tell she wasn't trying to cheat him—the offer was fair and respectable. "Deal," he said. Martha nodded. "Okay, then let's return to the restaurant. I'll pay you there." Gojo followed her, the cartman trailing behind, waiting for his share.
First of all, after entering the restaurant, Gojo asked Martha for 2,000 berries. He handed the money to the cartman and said, "I usually head out for hunting in the mornings. Of course, I don't hunt every day. But if I see you at the village gate, I'll definitely hire you." The cartman's face lit up with joy. For a cartman, working for a hunter was far more lucrative than ordinary transportation. Carrying hunted animals was messier, requiring thorough cleaning of the cart afterward, so the pay was higher. The cartman bowed deeply, gratitude clear in his posture, and left.
Once the cartman was gone, Gojo turned back to Martha. "Can you separate around 100 pounds of meat for me? I'll take it with me—I eat quite a lot." Martha nodded and instructed a servant to set aside the 100-pound portion carefully. She then paid Gojo, deducting the cost of the 100 pounds she returned. When Gojo finally received 220,000 berries, he took the money and the meat, adjusted his blindfold, and left the restaurant, heading back toward the village, the weight of his success settling comfortably on his shoulders.
First, he went to Rick's house. When Rick's wife saw Gojo return completely unharmed, a visible wave of relief washed over her face. Gojo handed her 10 pounds of meat, thanking her for taking care of him. He hadn't forgotten that Rick had helped him when he first arrived—without Rick, living in this village quietly would have been far more complicated. Rick's wife hesitated, but Gojo's insistence won her over, and she accepted the meat. After retrieving the keys to his house, Gojo returned to his own home.
Once inside, he began preparing his lunch. It was still early afternoon, leaving him plenty of time. After eating, he lay down to rest, following his usual midday routine: a nap first, then physical exercise and swordsmanship training, and finally, focused practice on controlling Limitless. The faint creak of the floorboards under his movements and the soft rustle of the blindfold as he adjusted it accompanied him, a quiet rhythm to the discipline of his day.
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