"Hey, Heith… has this kid always been able to eat this much?"
Mama Mia finally couldn't hold it in anymore—only after Qianshuo had demolished his third plate of the tavern's secret stewed meat and his second bowl of flavored vegetable soup.
Heith propped her cheeks up with both hands, watching him eat with a soft, amused smile.
"He's growing, isn't he? And he's training swordsmanship as his main path—physical work burns fuel."
She knew Qianshuo's appetite better than anyone.
Still… it probably helped that Mama Mia's cooking—her stew and all the side dishes—was simply on another level. Even compared to Heith, Mama Mia was clearly the superior cook.
Nearby, Syr and Anya were also sneaking glances at Qianshuo's slightly rounded belly, silently marveling at how much food he could pack away.
"I can't tell if the kid was starving, or if Mama Mia's food is just too good, nya," Anya muttered.
"Yeah… but he does look like he's finally full," Syr whispered back.
New customers came in, and the two girls quickly returned to work.
"So good…"
After finishing the last bite of rice and stew, Qianshuo let out a satisfied little burp and sighed from the bottom of his heart.
"If it's that good, come often," Heith said, taking out a handkerchief and gently wiping the corner of his mouth. "From now on, if you come back from the Dungeon hungry and don't have time to return to the familia, just eat dinner here."
Her eyes were full of fond, almost maternal warmth—like she'd raised him into this clean, well-fed, adorable state with her own hands.
Right then, Heith turned toward Mama Mia, who was wiping a glass and looking quite pleased at the boy polishing off her cooking.
"Right, Mama Mia?"
Mama Mia nodded once, still wiping the glass.
"Mm. If you like it, come often. Don't worry about money—put it on Freya Familia's tab."
She watched the boy carefully.
Yeah… he really was a good kid.
Clear features, polite manners.
And most importantly—
His eyes were clean.
In a city like Orario, where snakes and dragons mingled in the same streets, children who could keep that kind of gaze were rare.
Mama Mia remembered Freya from a few days ago—back at the Battle Wilderness.
That idiot goddess always wore her lofty "beauty goddess" mask… but when she spoke about this child, the curve of her lips rose without her even noticing.
Mama Mia had known Freya far too long to misunderstand that expression.
She was invested.
And not the "I found an interesting toy" kind of invested.
The "I've already cleared a place for him in my heart" kind.
Mama Mia's eyes narrowed slightly.
Even with Ottar, Freya hadn't worn that expression.
Allen. Hedin. Heith… none of those kids in the familia had ever made Freya smile like that.
But this one?
This kid was twelve.
…Was Freya seriously planning to raise him from childhood?
Mama Mia's hand paused mid-wipe. Her mouth twitched.
"Grooming is illegal."
…Whatever. Not her business.
That idiot had never once been low-maintenance.
Qianshuo, of course, had no idea what Mama Mia was thinking.
"Huh? You can do that?"
He blinked at the idea of eating and drinking on "public funds."
But after thinking it over, he decided he'd rather pay himself—because it was the familia's money, and that involved everyone.
At the same time, his gaze drifted toward Mama Mia almost unconsciously.
One thing was obvious:
Heith was very familiar with the people here—especially Syr. Heith's tone toward Syr carried a faint trace of respect, like Syr's status wasn't ordinary.
So Qianshuo's earlier guess was probably right.
This tavern had deep ties to the familia.
As for the details… he'd ask Heith—or Master Hedin—later.
After eating and drinking their fill, Heith and Qianshuo said goodbye to the Hostess of Fertility.
They stopped by a clothing shop on North Main Street and bought Qianshuo some everyday outfits.
Qianshuo tried to refuse. He was comfortable in what he wore, and he wasn't the kind of person who cared much about clothes.
But Heith shut it down with a single line:
"This concerns Freya-sama's face. The familia's image. Of course it matters."
With that reason, Qianshuo couldn't find a single counterargument—so he accepted it.
All in all, it was a day packed with gains.
And Qianshuo found himself looking forward to his upcoming Dungeon expedition even more.
…
Night settled in.
Another loud day at the Battle Wilderness came to an end. After dinner, Hedin was summoned by Freya.
The reason was simple:
She wanted to know Qianshuo's progress—and Hedin's evaluation.
Hedin reported in detail—his "observation log"—and gave his assessment.
"So," Freya's voice carried a languid, amused smile. "What do you think of the child these days?"
Hedin was silent for a moment.
"He's not stupid."
"Oh?"
"The fundamentals of his swordsmanship were established before he joined the familia. Crude… but solid."
His tone stayed cold, as if he were stating facts unrelated to himself.
"His comprehension is acceptable. Anything I teach once doesn't need repeating a second time."
He paused, then added:
"And he doesn't fall in the same place twice."
Freya's brows lifted slightly.
Coming from Hedin, those words were not light.
"And?"
"Nothing else."
"Really?"
Hedin's brow tightened almost imperceptibly—as if he felt he'd already said far too much.
But under the gaze of Freya's smiling silver eyes, he finally spoke again.
"Every day, after training ends, he stays on the practice grounds for another half hour."
"He repeats the move I struck him with the most that day."
His voice was quiet, but Freya caught the faint trace of approval embedded within it.
"Again and again—until he believes he has truly internalized it."
Freya didn't speak. Her smile simply deepened.
"That's all."
Hedin's tone hardened again, like a man retracting praise on instinct.
"But as your chosen candidate… he's still far from qualified."
"Is he?"
Freya's voice gave nothing away—neither belief nor disbelief.
Then she laughed, light and delighted, as if she'd seen straight through him.
"You're clearly quite satisfied… and you still deny him. Hedin—how tsundere of you."
She didn't say it out loud, though. If she did, Hedin would probably die of embarrassment on the spot.
"With his current strength, exploring the first ten floors should be fine," Freya said. "Arrange it for him."
"I'll be going to Babel soon. While I'm away, I'm leaving him to you."
She stretched lazily as she spoke.
"Understood. I will obey your command."
Hedin bowed and left.
Walking down the corridor, Hedin found himself recalling the boy's training over the past days—his ruthless, almost desperate drive to become stronger.
Hedin despised incompetence.
A life spent drifting in dullness didn't even deserve to become a pitiful slave beneath "honor" and "pride."
Elves lived long; that was exactly why Hedin couldn't stand short-lived races squandering their time.
Arrogant, complacent kin were even worse.
In his view, if you were powerless, you should understand all the more that you must burn your life and climb upward.
And yet—
Hedin did acknowledge talent.
He also acknowledged those who truly worked and struggled to become worthy.
From that angle…
Qianshuo passed.
Whether it was the brutal training these days, or the life-or-death fights before he ever arrived here—
The boy really had been burning his life to climb.
That will alone was worthy of recognition.
If he collapsed halfway and vanished from everyone's memory…
Hedin would still remember him.
And somewhere along the way, Hedin's original contempt had turned into something else.
Expectation.
Like Freya, he had begun to anticipate how far this child might rise.
A child with such self-will—someone who could even resist the beauty goddess's "charm and fall"—
What kind of pinnacle would he reach?
He remembered the boy's vow beneath the sunset:
"By the gods above—bear witness."
And, for the first time, Hedin found himself wondering—
Would there come a day when he could be proud of that child?
-------
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