In the hallway, several employees exchanged uneasy glances.
Syr and Anya pressed their ears to the door, their expressions shifting constantly.
"I'll go prepare the bento," Ryuu said softly, turning to leave.
She wasn't one to eavesdrop. Whatever Chloe was doing didn't concern her—since she'd already promised to have lunch with the boy, all she needed to do was get things ready.
As the elf girl walked away with graceful composure, Anya watched her and murmured, "I suddenly feel like... they're not what we thought, nya."
"Of course not, stupid cat. Look at Ryuu's reaction. Instead of wondering about her relationship with the boy, you should be worrying about his safety." Lunoire sighed, rubbing her forehead.
"Ryuu..." Syr murmured her friend's name thoughtfully.
"I'll go help her. Honestly, don't dump extra work on me," Lunoire grumbled, heading downstairs.
From what she remembered, Ryuu's cooking skills were about the same as Syr's. For any rookie Adventurer, the bentos they made were likely more dangerous than edible.
Thinking back to the "special-grade poison" that once knocked everyone out, Lunoire hurried her steps in concern.
The hallway grew quiet.
Anya strained to catch the voices inside, shifting her posture repeatedly.
Just as the two pressed close to the door, the room next to them suddenly opened.
"What... are you two doing?" Naaza asked, her tone laced with confusion.
"This... this is..."
Flustered by being caught eavesdropping, Syr's face turned crimson, and she stumbled straight into the room.
...
A few minutes earlier, Chloe had been smiling at the boy in front of her.
"This poison doesn't work on monsters, nya."
The blessing the Gods granted to mortals carried effects beyond imagination.
Besides slowing aging, it could turn a beautiful, charming girl into a terrifyingly skilled killer.
Bell stared at Chloe's sweet smile and understood that truth all too clearly.
Could everyone in this tavern be that strong?
"So, wanna try it, nya?"
Chloe's words snapped Bell back to reality.
"No thanks. A regular dagger is fine."
Bell rejected the idea of using poison without hesitation. If it didn't work against Dungeon monsters, the risk was far too high. If he accidentally cut himself, he could easily imagine how it would end.
"Nya."
Chloe replied with a hint of disappointment, her slender tail drooping to the ground.
Bell gave a bitter smile. This mischievous, sharp-tongued girl might seem unreadable at first glance, but noticing the subtle movements of her ears and tail made her feelings unexpectedly easy to understand.
Her fixation on poison was obvious—and right now, she was clearly feeling let down.
"If I get the chance, I'll come back and ask for your help again," Bell said to comfort her.
"Really, nya?" Chloe's drooping ears instantly perked up.
"Yeah, I promise. Even without the poison, this dagger is priceless to me. I'll take good care of it," Bell said sincerely.
Most Adventurers had their weapons forged by blacksmiths. By defeating monsters, gathering materials, and collecting ores, they could greatly reduce the cost of production. Following this pattern, an Adventurer's weapon strength usually matched their Dungeon progress.
According to Chloe, this sky-blue short blade was forged from ores found in the Middle Floors. For a rookie who hadn't even cleared the Upper Floors yet, it was practically a cheat weapon.
And Bell hadn't spent a single coin on it.
People often said cats were perceptive, and Chloe seemed to read his thoughts as she spoke up,
"I expect to be paid, nya."
"Payment? But I don't have anything right now. Can I owe you?"
Having grown up in the mountains, Bell naturally had no savings. His journey as an Adventurer had only just begun, and he was completely broke.
"I don't want money, nya. What I want as payment is something else, nya."
Chloe took a step closer with a mischievous grin. Kneeling on the edge of the bed like a petite kitten, she reached forward with both hands.
For a moment, Bell felt that what he saw before him wasn't a demi-human, but a small, adorable cat.
An intoxicating fragrance slowly filled the air.
It was a gentle, indescribable scent—far more alluring than any floral aroma. Like a sweet poison, it seeped deep into his heart, stirring something he couldn't quite name.
The distance between them shrank. Bell, seated on the bed, found himself wanting to see the true heart of the girl before him.
With a loud crash, the wooden door burst open. Syr stumbled into the room.
Just one glance was enough to make the flush on her cheeks deepen.
Chloe had her hands on the bed, her face just inches away from Bell's.
Though the waitresses all wore the same uniform, on this catgirl, it carried an oddly striking contrast.
The white apron cinched tightly around her waist, doing nothing to conceal the soft, rounded "weapons" pressing against it.
Syr remembered the boss lady once saying that when handling ingredients, you had to cover them with a wooden basket—otherwise, nearby cats would take advantage of their "natural weapons" and sneak a bite.
A "cheating cat," Mia had called it.
The term popped unbidden into Syr's mind.
Why was Chloe, usually just a little sly, suddenly being so forward with Bell?
The black cat had once said she couldn't resist boys like him. Syr had thought it was just a joke—but now, it seemed things were far more serious.
The human girl who had just burst into the room stood frozen, her face crimson, struggling to speak.
Seeing her like that, Chloe gave a triumphant, teasing smile. As she stepped back, she said, "We'll talk about payment next time, nya."
Before Bell could answer, Miach entered the room with Naaza in tow.
"Bell, thank you for your assistance," the god said, bowing sincerely.
"I'm also grateful for your help," Naaza added, mimicking her god's gesture.
"God-sama, there's no need to be so formal."
Even in poverty, the gods were beings to be revered. For one to bow so casually to someone from the Lower World spoke volumes of sincerity.
Miach lifted his head and said, "If you ever need potions in the future, come to us anytime."
"Whether it's healing potions or antidotes, we promise to provide them free of charge to the Hestia Familia," Naaza added—surprisingly generous for someone known to care about money.
"Alright then, I'll count on you," Bell said, accepting their goodwill honestly.
Potions were just tools for survival. Since he worked alone, he wouldn't need many.
"But your shop..." Bell hesitated, recalling the devastation at Blue Pharmacy, a flicker of worry in his eyes.
"Potions can always be brewed again, and a shop can always be rebuilt. Naaza's safe return matters more than anything." Miach's gaze radiated the gentle optimism and compassion fitting of a god.
Naaza lowered her head slightly, guilt written across her face.
Miach noticed her downcast expression. "Now that I think about it, I've given away plenty of potions over the years. If we added it all up, it'd probably surpass today's losses by far."
Was that supposed to be comforting?
A bead of sweat slid down Bell's forehead.
"Miach-sama," Naaza's gloom faded slightly, only to be replaced by another shadow. "Please stop giving potions away for free to those girls."
"I'm only helping children in need," Miach-sama replied honestly.
"I understand your intentions, Miach-sama," Naaza sighed, glancing at the others in the room. "But from those girls' perspective..." She hesitated, then bowed lightly. "Please excuse us for now. Once we've settled matters at the apothecary, I'll return to properly express our thanks."
After hearing Bell's response, the two turned and left in silence.
It seemed that the situation within the Miach Familia was even more complicated than expected.
A gentle breeze swept through the room. At some point, Anya had disappeared.
Only Syr and the young adventurer remained.
From outside the window, Naaza's voice drifted in—her words a respectful yet helpless reproach toward her god's boundless compassion.
Syr stood by the window, staring blankly at their departing figures.
"Bell-san, do you believe in love between a god and a mortal?"
Her voice carried a soft mixture of longing and melancholy, her graceful silhouette captivating as the wind stirred her silver-gray hair.
Anyone giving the question serious thought would surely answer "no."
The gap between gods and mortals was vast beyond measure—lifespan, divinity, experience, perspective, hardship... The divide was an unbridgeable chasm.
But Bell didn't think so.
"Of course I believe," he replied without hesitation.
...
Syr blinked, surprised by his certainty. She didn't sense evasion or deceit. "Why?"
Bell was a rational person.
He knew all too well, from the countless tales of heroes he'd read, that such love stories always ended in tragedy.
Meeting her earnest gaze, Bell smiled gently and said,
"If you don't believe in it, then the god would be pitiful, wouldn't they?"
Just as Bell longed for heroism and sought fateful encounters, he felt that if all that awaited a god was a sorrowful love story, then this world would be far too cruel.
"That's true," Syr murmured.
To be a mortal yet still think of the gods—across all of Orario, perhaps only this boy could give such an answer.
Syr's eyes widened slightly. To hide her expression, she quickly turned away.
Outside, Naaza and Miach walked off into the distance. A faint rainbow, left behind by the rain, stretched quietly across the horizon.
Syr pressed down the smile forming on her lips and let the wind play with her silver-gray hair.
She said nothing more, simply tucking her feelings away and quietly basking in the calm that lingered within the room.
...
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