Author: 冬瓜茶仙人 / Winter Melon Tea Immortal

Translator: Kinky || https://kinkytranslations.com/

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Chapter 8

Barry, the owner of the Stonewall Inn, took pride in two things: his naturally thick and perfectly trimmed beard and the cider brewed by his wife.

It wasn’t an exaggeration to say that the Stonewall Inn became the largest establishment in Kamal City thanks to Barry’s famous cider.

However, the guests who arrived yesterday almost ruined his reputation.

Twenty-four hours had passed, but the town was still buzzing with talk—two travelers had checked into the Stonewall Inn, bringing with them a miraculous artifact!

Even those who weren’t present at the time delighted in describing the scene to everyone: two people braving the wind and snow entered Barry’s inn, immediately requesting the best room.

Of course, Barry began his usual sales pitch: no one can claim to have visited Kamal without trying his cider!

But this time, the two strangers claimed they had brought along fine wine. Barry immediately proposed a challenge, but the two pulled out a magical jug that seemed to endlessly refill itself, providing enough wine for everyone in the inn and still remained full after pouring!

Poor old Barry knew his reputation was at stake, but what made him angry was that his wife didn’t mind at all and even went out of her way to provide the best linens for the two men.

For heaven’s sake, those two guys were always hooded, so their faces were unknown, and that superficial woman was completely smitten by their ‘gentlemanly behavior’, utterly irrational.

Feeling extremely imbalanced psychologically, Barry didn’t warn the two “pretty boys” when several shady-looking individuals started making trouble in the inn.

Although no one had seen what the two men looked like, Barry was sure they were pretty boys.

Perhaps they were servants of some noble, flaunting stolen goods from their masters without understanding the risks.

Thanks to those two strangers, his inn had been busier than ever these past two days, not clearing out until nearly midnight, but Barry wasn’t pleased. He put the last clean cup in the cupboard and felt like he had barely laid down for half an hour when he was awoken by several sharp shouts.

“Damn it!” Barry roared as he rolled out of bed, picked up the hammer from beside his bed, forcefully opened the door, and headed towards the lobby—being the owner, he was used to dealing with drunken troublemakers at midnight.

But as he stepped out of his room, he saw a sleazy-looking skinny man tumbling down the stairs, and Barry looked up to see a tall man striding down the steps, wielding a short sword.

The sound of chaotic footsteps came from upstairs. Another man flipped over the railing and landed heavily on a square wooden table, clutching a large box. The dim lobby erupted into chaos, and Barry foolishly stood with his hammer, watching as at least four or five men brawled in his inn.

The tall man with the sword lunged forward, seemingly attempting to seize the large box, when a voice from upstairs shouted, “Shivers!”

With that warning, Barry saw a glint of cold light behind the tall man, followed by a loud “clang!” as something heavily collided.

Dwight, who had flipped the thief downstairs, saw clearly—a man wielding a double-headed axe was quietly approaching Shivers. There were three men downstairs, and Shivers was focused on the jug—Dwight barely had time to shout a warning before someone quicker than Shivers intercepted the double-headed ax with a long-handled copper candlestick.

Shivers, true to his title as Knight Commander, was fully enraged by this unreserved attack after previously holding some reservations about these thieves.

He, along with the newly alert Barry and Dwight, who had jumped down from the upstairs, neatly tied up the three thieves—plus another waiting near the door to assist them.

The man who blocked the ax for Shivers picked up the box from the ground and handed it to Dwight. The box, overwhelmed by the fierce fight, fell apart as soon as it was released, and Dwight quickly caught the contents that tumbled out.

Even in the dim light of the lobby, Barry saw clearly—it was the miraculous jug that endlessly poured out wine!

So, these two young men were the travelers with the miraculous jug? Barry felt a bit sour inside, reluctant to admit his wife’s intuition was right. These two were indeed unforgettable in appearance, and their skills were exceptional, managing to overpower four with ease, setting aside the ambusher hidden in the shadows. They seemed to have retrieved their treasure with little effort.

“Excuse me. Some light, please.” Dwight casually juggled the jug, his eyes keenly watching the men tied up on the floor.

Barry set down the hammer and took the candlestick that had been used as a weapon, preparing to light some candles.

“I think I’ll go back to my room,” the young man who had been holding the candlestick suddenly said. “It looks like you have things to handle.”

Shivers quickly said, “Please wait a moment, sir. I haven’t thanked you for your help.”

Perhaps because he was woken up in the middle of the night, the young man’s voice was a bit hoarse. “I just heard the noise and came to look. I didn’t really help much.”

“Alright.” Barry lit the candles, muttering. “What a night. I’m going to light the fireplace and boil some water.”

He turned with the candlestick in hand, his eyes involuntarily twitching. The young man standing in the corner looked uncomfortable staying in the lobby. But what Barry was thinking was: What the hell did I witness tonight? First those two boys, now this one—

Old Barry was at a loss for words. Unlike the other two young men, the one with the short sword was clearly a knight, tall and handsome with exceptional skills, the type that young girls adore; the other was so beautiful it was almost beyond gender, a face so delicately featured and haughty that anyone, man or woman, would be taken aback at first glance.

The person in front of him wasn’t as remarkable in stature or facial features as the other two. His eyes were unlike any Barry had seen before, slightly elongated and pointed at the corners, resembling a half-squinting cat. His short, golden-copper hair curled slightly at the ends, and both his nose and lips were thin. Even at night, it was evident his skin had the pallor of someone rarely touched by the sun. Barry, not as eloquent as a noble who could fill a book with love poems, simply thought the man looked like a vampire from afar.

He wasn’t particularly handsome in a conventional sense, but intriguing enough to make one want to step closer and take a closer look.

Barry didn’t remember seeing such a person in his inn, but in a city like Kamal, which served as a hub among several major cities, many travelers didn’t show their true faces.

The young man clearly didn’t like being studied. He stepped back, retreating from the candlelight.

‘Even his behavior is somewhat vampire-like,’ Barry thought.

But vampires were very rare, and they usually avoided human settlements. Besides his unhealthy skin tone, the young man’s behavior didn’t seem out of the ordinary.

Shivers, less suspicious than Barry, found several cups and insisted on offering him a drink.

“I’m Green,” Shivers said warmly. “I really appreciate your help earlier.”

“Oscar.” The young man smiled. “What happened? Encountered some thieves?”

The answer was obvious.

Dwight studied the people on the floor in the candlelight and suddenly asked, “You’ve changed partners?”

The man he had flipped down the stairs replied, “I don’t know them—and strictly speaking, you’re the thieves. I was just retrieving my belongings.”

Shivers hadn’t accompanied Dwight into the forest and naturally didn’t recognize the man as the one who had ambushed by the carriage with the jug.

“The jug is mine!” he declared. “It even has my name on it!”

He didn’t mention how he had lost the jug.

“Your name?” Dwight glanced at him quizzically.

There was only Witch Elena’s emblem on the bottom of the jug, just a design unrelated to any name, and Dwight couldn’t see any resemblance between this dirty, disheveled man and the legendary witch.

“There, on the handle,” he said irritably. “There’s a letter ‘E’ carved under the handle. That’s my name, Eugene.”

Dwight, Shivers, Oscar, and Barry all leaned in to see, and indeed, there were some crude carvings under the handle that could hardly be recognized as letters unless he pointed it out.

And…

“You carved that yourself, right?” Shivers remarked. “Your handiwork isn’t very good.”

“It’s at least proof I’m not a thief,” Eugene argued. “Can you let me go now?”

“You snuck into my room in the middle of the night, trying to take something that isn’t yours. What are you if not a thief?” Dwight said coldly.

“That’s my property! I bought it from—a merchant in Rafferty!”

“Oh? Then tell us,” Dwight spun the jug in his hand. “How many gold coins did you pay for something made by Witch Elena?”

As he spoke, most in the room looked horrified. Even the tied-up thieves seemed like they’d rather faint right there.

“A witch?” Eugene was stunned.

Oscar coughed lightly. “So, these gentlemen didn’t know what they were stealing?”

Barry dryly said, “If they didn’t know it was a witch’s jug but thought it was just a magical jug that produced endless wine, I think even more people would come to steal it.”

“I must say I’m lucky.” Dwight chuckled. “The first night and the people I was looking for came to me.”

Everyone except Shivers stared at him.

Dwight casually placed the jug on the table next to him, and Barry couldn’t help but move a bit further away from it.

Eugene seemed to understand something, looking up to meet Dwight’s gaze.

“I’ve been waiting for you to come for me, and you didn’t disappoint,” Dwight said softly. “Welcome, you despicable bastard who likes to take advantage of others and bully those who have more.”

Shivers looked at Eugene with sympathy.

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