The gentle and warm noon breeze blew over the body, making it quite comfortable.

　　In a certain open plain of the Laillette Forest, the four-cornered flag of the Big Green Frog Inn swayed in the wind.

　　Under the flag, a team of well-equipped human patrolmen had just left.

　　The leading general wore a distinctive cloak patterned with orange and purple double-helix shapes, and a proud smile lingered on his face.

　　As the team departed, only a few travelers remained dining in the shop.

　　Two leopard-headed men were cutting into fully cooked wild boar hind legs near the entrance, and one of them seemed especially fond of dipping the meat into a green sauce.

　　By the window sat a lizardman who looked very thirsty. He drank citrus wine in big gulps, but the food beside him remained untouched.

　　The owner of the inn was a wyvern. He was wiping glasses while looking out the window, waiting for the next guest.

　　At that moment, the door was pushed open and another lizardman walked in.

　　Compared to the others, this one was bigger and more muscular. He carried a brand-new bow and arrows on his back, and a blood-stained new sword at his waist.

　　His skin wasn’t the usual bright green, but a rarer dark gray.

　　His feet creaked against the wooden floor as he walked up to the counter.

　　He stopped in front of the mirror, looked at himself for a while, and seemed satisfied with his appearance.

　　He took out two silver coins and ordered, “One fried green frog, one pork leg—preferably the hind leg—one berry pie, and a bottle of apple cider. That’s all.”

　　The innkeeper raised an eyelid. “Sorry, Charles, we only have the front legs.”

　　Charles turned his head toward the door and realized someone had arrived before him.

　　He didn’t want to cause trouble, especially when he saw the two leopardmen sharpening their claws on the table, making a piercing sound.

　　“Damn it,” he muttered. “I don’t care about the front legs. But hey, Durdin, do you have any news? You know what I’m talking about.”

　　Every time Charles asked, Durdin wore the same sad expression. He knew what the hunter was waiting for.

　　“Sorry,” Durdin said. “There’s nothing left for you here. Consider yourself abandoned by the Bloodblade Vanguard, my warrior. Lirette’s a good place. You could start over.”

　　“Is that so? Thanks.”

　　A few years ago, something had happened—something he couldn’t forget and couldn’t forgive, even himself.

　　Hearing the same answer again, Charles said no more.

　　When his food arrived, he dragged the tray toward an empty table.

　　As a warrior, he still kept some old habits, such as eating quickly to save time for fighting.

　　Now, he preferred to eat slowly.

　　He finished eating in about half an hour.

　　The remaining bottle of apple cider became the best drink after the meal.

　　Not long after, the lizardman by the window staggered over with a bottle of alcohol in his hand.

　　His swaying body and the creaking floorboards suggested he had already had too much.

　　He brought two cups and poured them both full.

　　Charles glanced at the green-skinned man in front of him.

　　He recognized him but didn’t understand what he wanted.

　　“My friend, it seems we don’t have much in common.”

　　“I know you,” the other said, hiccuping. “Everyone calls you Greyhound.”

　　As fellow lizardfolk, friendship mattered, but the green-skinned drunk reeked of alcohol, and bits of green residue clung to his teeth when he burped.

　　His curly hair made him look even more foolish.

　　“Friend, I remember you—Larmuk, right?”

　　“It’s Aku.”

　　“I think you’re right, Laku. So, what do you need?”

　　“Shh… burp… keep your voice down.”

　　The green lizard lowered his tone—barely.

　　“I know a treasure that only we would care about. The information costs five silver coins. You make money easily, right? You’re not stingy, are you?”

　　Laku was well known around here as a black-market dealer who sold any kind of information for five silver coins, no matter its value or truth.

　　As a fellow lizardman, Charles didn’t want to lose his temper—but as a hunter who made a living honestly, he wanted this conversation to end quickly.

　　“I’m not interested,” he said simply.

　　“It’s a treasure,” Laku pressed.

　　“I said I’m not interested,” Charles replied, his patience thinning.

　　But Laku refused to give up, a determined glint in his eyes.

　　“Knowing nothing—that’s the real regret.”

　　Charles slammed his fist on the table.

　　“Do you think I’m stupid enough to rush into a hunter’s trap like a wild boar? Use your brain. I’m an intelligent being—different from other species. Different from yours.”

　　“I agree,” Laku said. “We lizardfolk are indeed more intelligent than other orc races.”

　　Their voices were not low.

　　Laku heard the sound of claws scratching the table and turned his head.

　　After a moment, he looked back again and continued, “Some things aren’t meant to be discussed loudly. But I really do have a treasure. It’s worth five silver coins, because only we lizardfolk are interested in it. It’s definitely worth your time.”

　　Charles gave up trying to stop him.

　　He figured that letting Laku say his piece would end the conversation faster.

　　“Fine. Go ahead. I’ll decide for myself.”

　　Laku grinned drunkenly.

　　“Half a month ago, a new neighbor moved into a cave five kilometers northwest of this inn. She’s one of us—and female. As far as I know, you’ve been alone for a long time…”

　　Charles froze, his tongue trembling like the flag above the inn.

　　Few of their kind—especially females—had entered the Laillette Forest in years.

　　The news was both exciting and painful, stirring old memories.

　　Without hesitation, he handed over five silver coins.

　　“My friend, do you have a map? I need the exact location.”

　　Laku took the coins, burped twice, and grinned.

　　“Knew you’d be interested. Trust me—she’ll make a fine companion.”

　　He pulled out a scrap of paper and scribbled rough directions on it.

　　Then, with a satisfied smile, he swaggered out of the inn while the floorboards creaked beneath his steps.

　　Charles opened the paper ball and found a detailed route drawn on it.

　　“Not bad,” he muttered. “Let’s hope it’s more reliable than a deserter’s promise.”

　　With excitement building in his chest, he reached his destination within an hour.

　　The cave entrance was wide and smooth, unlike other lizardmen’s caves where dirt often crumbled from the ceiling.

　　On the left side of the entrance hung chunks of meat and dried fish.

　　On the right, a tattered fur blanket was laid out to dry.

　　In the center, a pale blue-skinned female lizardfolk was scraping a pelt—clearly her means of survival.

　　The information was true.

　　He stared for a moment, reminded of things he couldn’t forget.

　　Then he collected himself.

　　The poverty before him stirred a quiet pity, and he told himself he should do something.

　　He placed five silver coins on the wooden table near her.

　　The female turned, eyes sharp with anger.

　　“Sir, it seems we don’t have much in common. Take your charity and leave.”

　　He quickly shook his head.

　　“Madam, it’s not what you think. I was just… excited. You know how rare it is to see one of our kind here. As kin, we should help each other. Yes—help each other.”

　　The pale blue lizardwoman’s gaze softened.

　　After a pause, she managed a small, sad smile.

　　“Can I help you? Does this mean we’ve met before? I’m Noemi. Please take back your coins—I don’t need them right now. If I ever do, I’ll exchange them for something of equal value.”

　　Charles admired her tone and the quiet dignity in her face.

　　He went back to the table and pocketed the coins.

　　“Charles Greyhound,” he said. “An excellent hunter—as you can see, no one better around here.”

　　Noemi smiled faintly. “Arrogant man.”