The morning chill had yet to be fully dispelled by the sun. Inside the lobby of the “Pujis Home” inn, it was spacious and quiet, with only a handful of diners eating breakfast.
As a newly opened inn, the lack of customers was normal.
Old Dylan sat alone behind the counter, his rough fingers gripping a quill as he carefully checked the expenses for food purchases and maintenance tools in the open ledger. His lips moved quietly as he muttered numbers, preparing to report them later.
Just then, a freckled little face peeked out from behind the kitchen curtain.
“Boss!” the young girl Bianca reminded him, “The lamp oil in the guest rooms is running low, and the firewood in the kitchen won’t last much longer!”
“Got it, got it. I’ll go buy some at the market later.” Dylan replied without even lifting his head.
Bianca was currently the inn’s only employee, handling both cooking and cleaning, while Dylan took care of reception and bookkeeping.
Business was still slow, so the workload was manageable. If customers increased later, they could hire more staff. For now, the mushroom town had no shortage of people.
As a rear base for humanity and a hub for mushroom production, new faces arrived here every day for various reasons.
Bianca had come with her mother, fleeing their homeland that had become a battlefield. Her father, it was said, was fighting under Duke Brennus in the northwest war against the demons.With Mushroom Town growing more prosperous by the day, finding work wasn’t difficult.
Those strong enough could join the guard, the able-bodied could work with the lumber teams, and the quick-handed could apply to tend mushroom fields. But none of these jobs would take a little girl like her.
Thus, landing a position at Dylan’s inn was something Bianca cherished deeply—especially since she urgently needed money for her mother’s health, and Dylan’s pay was surprisingly generous.
“Creak—” The wooden door of the inn opened with a rough sound.
Dylan frowned. That was a new door—why was it already making noises?
Two guests walked in. The man in front wore a dark travel cloak, dusty from the road, his steps steady but wary.
Behind him followed a woman—Rita, the demon spy from before.
Her outfit was plain, a simple gray-brown long dress, making her look like a traveling wife.
Dylan’s gaze brushed past Rita’s, a fleeting silent exchange, before he turned to the man and asked as usual, “Staying the night?”
“One room. Quiet.” The man’s voice was deep and curt.
“Turn left, all the way down. Hot water is one copper per bucket—fetch it yourself.” Dylan pulled out the key to Room 109, reserved for “special guests.” It was far from other rooms and contained a hidden passage leading underground.
As he handed over the key, he added casually, “Relax and rest well, guest. You look a little too tense.”
The man’s face stiffened, a trace of embarrassment flashing across his features. He snatched the key and strode quickly toward the guest rooms.
Rita gave Dylan an apologetic glance before following.
Only then did Dylan sit back down, muttering under his breath, “Ah… these newcomers nowadays, their quality has really dropped.”
That glance with Rita had already told him the man was also a demon spy, most likely Rita’s junior or subordinate.
After so many spies had died recently, of course replacements were needed. But the quality of these new recruits… Dylan could only shake his head.
That stiff posture, that overly wary expression—it was practically written on his face: “I’m suspicious.”
Fortunately, Mushroom Town was a chaotic mix of people, giving him cover. Elsewhere, he wouldn’t have made it past the city gate.
So unprofessional that even Dylan couldn’t resist giving a hint.
He thought to himself: a new rule was needed. Rookie spies had to be observed and evaluated before being introduced into “Pujis Home.” Otherwise, they might drag everyone down.
Creak—
The door opened again, but this time it wasn’t a spy—it was an old acquaintance.
“Veyra? What happened to you?” Dylan asked in surprise.
He had known Veyra’s group since the days when he’d provided them with the “fifth floor strategy.” They had some rapport, though he’d never met that absurdly beautiful elf girl in their party. That harem-building brat…
But right now, Veyra looked miserable. His leather armor was scorched all over, and worse, his once-handsome golden hair was half burned off, leaving a bald patch on his head. His current looks were even lower than Dylan’s own!
Veyra gave a bitter smile. “Tried exploring the eighth layer. Took a big loss.”
Dylan’s eyes swept over Phylline and the elf, noting the faint scorch marks at the edges of their robes. They were placed discreetly at the sides of their bodies.
It wasn’t hard to imagine—at the critical moment, Veyra had stood at the front, taking the brunt of the damage.
Dylan nodded. “So, you’re here to stay at the inn?”
Unexpectedly, Veyra shook his head. “No. I already bought a house in Mushroom Town. I’m a local now.”
“Then you’re not here just to say hello, are you?” Dylan raised an eyebrow.
Phylline stepped forward. “Boss Dylan, just look at poor Veyra! Stop hiding it already, take it out! It’s not like you’ll lose money!”
Realization dawned on Dylan. He crouched down, rummaging under the counter for a while. After a clinking of bottles, he finally pulled out a small glass vial filled with thick dark-green liquid.
“Looking for Hair Growth Potion?”
“May I examine it?” the elf, Cyrian, stepped forward politely.
“Go ahead.” Dylan slid the vial over.
Cyrian carefully removed the wooden stopper, wafted the air above the opening toward his nose, and sniffed with precision.
A moment later, surprise and admiration flickered in his eyes. “It really is genuine Hair Growth Potion! I didn’t expect to see this here. Forgive me for asking—do you know the alchemist who made this?”
“That’s not something I can disclose.”
Phylline quickly cut in. “Alright, alright, who cares who made it! As long as Veyra’s hair can be saved! How much is it?”
After sending the four of them off, Dylan stood alone behind the counter, half amused, half helpless.
He had only sold one bottle of potion before, but the reputation had spread so fast.
Selling one or two occasionally was fine. But if he was going to do this long-term, he’d need proper cover.
At the very least, he needed a plausible source for the materials, one that could stand up to scrutiny.
He’d have to discuss this with the boss later.
…
That night, Dylan met two spies in the basement.
As expected, the man was Rita’s new partner. This visit was mostly for introductions.
Of course, since they were already there, they exchanged some intelligence as well.
What interested Dylan most was the situation at the frontlines:
The northwest front had lost another city. Duke Brennus’s battered troops were in retreat, and the Sword Saint had gone with reinforcements to aid them.