The inn wasn’t crowded. Jetri sat in a corner, observing the sparse patrons.

He’d ordered a large mug of watered-down ale and a plate of food that looked better than it tasted.

His table manners weren’t elegant, but not crude either.

He ate slowly, ears tuned to the locals’ chatter.

Mostly complaints and fears.

Nonsensical ramblings.

And drunken conspiracy theories.

“I’m tellin’ ya—old Jack’s right!” A bald, burly man who looked like an adventurer slurred to his companion, swaying on his stool. “How could the Demon King just *come back to life* like that?!”

“Something’s fishy! I’d bet my boots on it!”

“You’re drunk,” sighed his companion—a mage by the looks of him—shaking his head as he took a swig of beer.

“I’m *not* drunk!” the bald man bellowed.

With so few people in the inn, his voice carried clearly to Jetri’s corner.

Jetri didn’t move closer. He simply gripped his mug, listening with indifferent eyes.

“What Valiant Heroes?! Haven’t seen hide nor hair of ’em!” the drunkard ranted on. “Killed the Demon King? Bullshit!”

His companion’s expression darkened. “*Jack!*” he snapped.

The bald man sobered up halfway instantly.

He just shut his mouth.

His teammate had only scolded him to avoid trouble. He felt nothing for the so-called Valiant Hero either.

Even if a Valiant Hero had truly slain the Demon King, the Demon King’s army at the border wouldn’t crumble overnight.

Especially not now that the Demon King was back.

Jetri’s face remained impassive.

He didn’t care about such talk.

Truth was, he’d joined the Demon King’s crusade only because Brave Academy’s sole purpose was to train Valiant Heroes to slay the Demon King.

Every qualified student who entered Brave Academy had to shoulder that duty.

Jetri had willingly set out only because Brave Academy had given him a future—and because of Vya.

His crusade against the Demon King had nothing to do with Delan Kingdom. Nothing to do with humanity.

Others’ opinions meant nothing to him.

“Jetri.”

Victoria sat beside him.

He’d noticed her long ago. He just hadn’t cared.

Maybe he once had. But Jetri wasn’t some lovesick puppy. He didn’t cling.

“Hmm.” He gave a slight nod without turning fully.

“Can we… talk?” The Delan Princess sounded hesitant.

Jetri frowned slightly, glancing back.

Her lake-blue eyes held emotions he couldn’t decipher.

But one was clear: guilt.

“Alright.” He didn’t dwell on it. Let her indulge in her own emotions if it steadied her for what lay ahead.

“Jetri, I—I said I needed time to think back then…” Victoria bit her lip.

Jetri frowned again, meeting those lake-blue eyes. “Back when?”

“That day…” Her voice dwindled to a murmur.

“*What* day?” Jetri still didn’t understand.

“When… you asked me… to be with you…”

Jetri watched her golden head bow lower, those lake-blue eyes dropping.

But her words made him stand up abruptly, ale sloshing in his mug.

He’d heard enough.

“I—”

Victoria kept murmuring, unaware he’d already left.

When she finally gathered her courage, trembling as she lifted her gaze—

The seat before her was empty.

*Huh?*

Jetri had already stepped out of the inn.

Expressionless.

He raised the mug to his lips and drained half the cheap ale in one bitter gulp.

The town felt quieter than before, yet some trades still thrived.

Some professions remained as busy as ever.

Busier, even.

Like prostitutes.

“Sir—”

“Piss off.” Jetri didn’t even glance at the scantily clad woman.

He kept walking, mug in hand.

She tried to follow—business was slow these days—but a flicker of flame at his fingertips made her back off.

It only worsened his foul mood.

He turned back toward the inn.

Just as he reached for his room key, the golden-haired princess stood blocking his door.

He closed his eyes briefly, fighting irritation, then walked over.

“Jetri, please listen,” Victoria’s voice was raw, tear-streaked. “I said I needed time to think, and I—”

“No need. I don’t care anymore.” Jetri shook his head, face blank. He unlocked the door, stepped inside, and shut it.

*SLAM.*

Victoria was left outside.

Jetri thought he wouldn’t care. Thought he’d stay calm.

But he wouldn’t feel this tightness in his chest if he truly didn’t care.

He probably wouldn’t have shut her out like that.

He’d meant to talk properly. But calmness had slipped through his fingers.

Outside, the moment the door slammed, Victoria crumpled to her knees as if her bones had vanished.

She stared in despair at the closed door.

Tears spilled again from her lake-blue eyes.

Then—a faint knock came from the other side.

Jetri knew who it was. He didn’t move.

But soon, Vya’s voice cut through the silence. “What are you doing sitting here?”

Jetri heard no reply from Victoria.

He closed his eyes again.

His chest felt heavy.

He opened the door.

The three surviving members of their party formed an awkward tableau.

Victoria wept quietly.

Vya opened her mouth, then closed it.

Jetri stood with arms crossed, eyes shut.

“What’s going on…?” Vya finally ventured, her voice lacking conviction.

Honestly, she sucked at this. At smoothing things over.

Jetri used to handle it.

Five years of adventuring—clashes were inevitable. Personal conflicts flared.

Their party had survived only because of Jetri.

Now the peacemaker refused to speak.

Vya was lost.

“Can’t we just… talk it out?” Her words sounded hollow even to herself.

Jetri couldn’t stand seeing Vya like this. He spoke at last. “Victoria needs to talk to me alone. Vya, give us a moment. I’ll find you after.”

Vya stood. “Alright. I’ll go.”

She felt uneasy leaving them alone, but the party’s fractures needed mending.

Then—a chill prickled her neck.

She turned instinctively.

Saw nothing.

Frowning, she left.