Chapter 43: Deja Brew (43)
Ahrie and the slim horse came back to their inn.
Min went his own way to his place.
Creak.
the door opened. The inn was as noisy as usual.
The owner looked up again, saw Ahrie walk in with the horse right behind him...
And just sighed. He already gave up telling Ahrie about the "no animals inside" rule.
Ahrie plopped down at a table, grabbed a menu and started scanning it.
The horse sat beside him—
"I’ll have this roasted chicken," Ahrie said.
Then he looked at his horse.
He grabbed the menu again and propped it up where the horse could see.
"You want this?" he asked.
The horse shook its head, no.
"How about this one?" Ahrie pointed again.
Another no.
Ahrie squinted. "You can read or something?"
The horse just blinked, judging him.
Ahrie started flipping through the menu—fast.
Finger darting from one dish to another.
"This? No? This one? No?!"
The slim horse kept shaking its head every single time.
"This picky-eating bastard..." Ahrie muttered, glaring.
He sighed, slammed the menu shut, and waved the waiter over.
"Fine. Make it two roasted chickens.
A few moments later, their order arrived.
Ahrie rolled his shoulders, stretched his arms like he was about to square up.
Then—thud—he kicked the horse’s leg.
The slim horse flinched, opened its mouth to scream—
Ahrie didn’t waste the chance. He shoved the entire dish right in.
The horse froze, eyes wide.
Ahrie sat back down, grabbed his own plate, and started eating like nothing happened.
The worker and a few seekers nearby just... stared.
"Lunatic..." one whispered.
When Ahrie finished, he stood up, wiped his mouth, and headed upstairs with the horse.
The innkeeper sighed again as the floorboards creaked under them.
By midnight, Ahrie couldn’t sleep.
Not excitement—something else.
Flickers of blurry memories flashed through his head.
A child’s voice. A faint glow.
Then—stab—a sharp headache hit.
"Argh... fuck..." he groaned, clutching his head as he stumbled out of bed.
He went downstairs, hoping the cool air would clear his mind.
The owner was still up, lazily sweeping the floor when Ahrie came down.
He looked up, smiled faintly, and said, "Can’t sleep, kid? Want some warm drink?"
Ahrie nodded and sat at a nearby table.
The owner started preparing a drink behind the counter.
"How long have you been here?" the owner asked.
Ahrie thought for a moment. "Around two days now."
The old man chuckled. "Pfft—not here in the inn, kid. I mean in Sylvaren."
"Oh... almost three weeks now," Ahrie replied, rubbing his neck.
"Why’d you come here?" the owner asked, voice soft but curious.
Ahrie blinked. "Why did I come here...?" he muttered under his breath.
The owner laughed quietly and removed a small sprout-shaped headband from his head.
Ahrie’s eyes widened. "Whoa—wait, you’re not one of the locals?"
"Nope," the man said, glancing at the headband. "This thing was popular on Earth back in the day."
"Eh? I see..." Ahrie said awkwardly.
The old man continued while stirring the drink
"Everyone from Earth came to this place for something.
Power,
Wealth,
Adventure,
Fame...
Some did it for loved ones, others just for themselves.".
He placed the cup in front of Ahrie and smiled.
"That’s why we’re called Seekers. We seek something... and we risk our lives for it."
Ahrie stared at the steam rising from the cup, lost in thought.
"Guess you don’t have one yet," the owner said with a small chuckle, heading toward his room.
"Just leave the cup there when you’re done."
Ahrie took a sip—
"Euughh! Oiii—what the hell is this?"
"It’s coffee!" he muttered, glaring at the cup.
"FUCK—it is coffee!"
groaning as he dragged himself back upstairs.
He flopped on the bed, shut his eyes...
Then shot up, slammed his face into the pillow.
"ARRRGH! I CAN’T SLEEEEEP—!"
...Morning came.
Min, Ahrie, and the slim horse trudged toward the gathering site.
Min looked half-dead, but when he turned to Ahrie—he looked worse.
"What’s up with you?" Min asked.
"Huh? Me? I haven’t slept," Ahrie muttered, eyes hollow.
"Why? You excited or something?" Min raised a brow.
He glanced at the horse. "Eh? Why is this shit in the same condition?"
"Oh, the horse?" Ahrie sighed. "You see..."
He told Min everything.
Last night, the old innkeeper offered him a hot drink.
A freaking coffee.
He didn’t know what it was—that damn old bastard.
He couldn’t sit still.
So, naturally, he woke the horse up.
Made it drink the leftover coffee.
Then dragged it to the hallway in front of the owner’s room.
"HUURAAAAA!!!" Ahrie shouted, pumping his fists.
The horse neighed back in rhythm—like some cursed midnight workout partner.
The owner’s door burst open.
"What the hell are you doing in the middle of the night?!"
"SCREW YOU, OLD MAN!" Ahrie yelled back, doing push-ups.
By sunrise, none of them—Ahrie, the horse, or the poor innkeeper—had slept a damn minute.
Min was dying of laughter.
He nearly stumbles while they walk just imagining it.
They arrived at the gathering site.
Lines of Seekers were already forming, the air buzzing with chatter and hoofbeats.
Ahrie and Min joined the queue while their slim horse waited lazily in a corner, tail flicking
"Ahrie Von Creed... Seo Min Jae..." the clerk read from her list.
She scanned down the parchment, then nodded. "There you are—Carriage No. 38. It’s marked, so you won’t miss it."
"Sweet," Ahrie muttered, giving a lazy salute before heading off.
They walked past rows of carriages, most already packed with people talking loudly or snoring like pigs.
Each empty one gave them a bit of hope—until they reached another full one.
Sigh.
Finally, after what felt like a long, painful march, they found it—Carriage No. 38.
They climbed aboard.
Inside sat a girl—alone, quiet, and looking out
That stopped them for a second.
Ahrie shrugged and sat down like nothing
Min, being Min, decided to talk.
"Hi, I’m Min. This is Ahrie."
He held out his hand for a handshake.
The girl slowly turned, stared at him... and said nothing.
Ahrie looked away, biting his lip to stop himself from laughing.
Min frowned, still holding out his hand like an idiot.
He bumped Ahrie’s shoulder. "Is my hand dirty or something?"
Ahrie smirked. "Yeah, it stinks. Get off me."
The girl giggled softly—finally.
Min froze for a moment, then smirked too.
Ahrie and Min were still pinning each other down, bickering like kids.
Their slim horse trotted closer to the carriage, clearly planning to climb up too.
Both of them turned at the same time—
"FUCK OFF!" they yelled in perfect sync.
The horse froze mid-step.
"Walk, you slim-ass shit!" Ahrie barked.
"Yeah, build some muscle, dumbhorse!" Min added.
The horse snorted, ears twitching in annoyance, then stomped away with heavy steps—
as if trying to prove a point.
Thud.
Thud.
Footsteps. Heavy.
"Oh—hi. I’m the coachman for today." A rough voice. "Looks like everyone’s here. We’ll set out once the order’s given."
Ahrie and Min glanced at each other.
"Are we the last carriage?" Ahrie asked.
"I don’t think so—there’s a 39 back there," Min shrugged.
The coachman snorted. "Healers get a little special treatment. Valuable folks—save lives and all that. You know how it is." He flipped his list. "hmm—Miss Akayra. She’s a healer too."
Akayra nodded once, quiet.
"Wai—hold up!" a loud voice cut in from the aisle.
"The healer gets special treatment? Please." A guy shoved his face through the carriage door and leaned in, grinning like an idiot. He stared at Ahrie.
"You see those full carriages?" he mocked. "Just ’cause you can hit someone with a heal doesn’t make you special!"
Min stood up quick. "Got a problem with that, stupid shit?"
Ahrie’s grin curled mean. "Wanna fight, HAAA?!" he snarled, putting on his local-thug impression.
The guy puffed up, chest out. "Hmp—bring it. I’ll— I’ll kill both of you, you—"
Then he saw Akayra.
He froze mid-insult. Blinked.
"Beautifu—" he started, then like someone punched his brain—shut up.
He climbed in, dropped down beside Ahrie, and stared straight ahead like stone. No more talk. No grin. Just blank.
Min’s fist twitched. "This freeloader—" he hissed, but didn’t move.
"Let him be, bud..." Ahrie grabbed Min’s arm before he could swing.
"We’ll need at least one punching bag for the long road." Ahrie grinned.
"Ohh, smart," Min replied with a grin of his own.
"Who’s the punching bag?" the man smirked.
Min sighed and started reintroducing everyone, half-annoyed.
He pointed at himself. "Min."
Then at Ahrie. "Ahrie."
Then at the girl. "Akayra."
The man’s stare softened for a moment—his eyes practically sparkled.
Even her name sounds beautiful... he thought.
Then he straightened up dramatically, puffed out his chest.
"Remember my name—Shiven Kaalendrath Vardhan Sharma—"
POOF!
He disappeared mid-sentence.
The three froze.
Ahrie blinked. "...Did he just—?"
Min’s eyes darted around the carriage. "The fuck? He just despawned?"
Akayra stayed quiet, still staring where Shiven stood.
—
Somewhere far... or maybe not that far.
"ARGHHH! STUPID ASS SKILL!!" Shiven yelled, face buried in dirt.
He slammed his fists on the ground. "WHY DO I KEEP BLINKING RANDOMLY?!"
He looked around at the forest. "WHERE EVEN IS THIS?!"
A bird screeched above him and flew off.
Shiven groaned, standing up.
"...Great. Teleportation. My ass."