Chapter 53 Tim

Kalanfor.

A small town near Rivervale Town.

There was nothing remarkable about it.

Across the Kingdom of Servia, countless obscure Human settlements looked almost exactly the same.

The local river was short and shallow, nowhere near deep enough for shipping.

At most, the town’s women used it to wash clothes and dump dirty water.

Kalanfor had no rare local specialty.

No rich mine.

No valuable natural resource capable of supporting the entire town.

Worse, its proximity to Misty Forest meant the surrounding wilderness had a higher concentration of monsters than most other regions.

Even merchant caravans faced greater danger coming and going.

In a sense, if Rivervale Town didn’t have mountains on three sides, giving it naturally defensible terrain, and if it stood a little farther from Misty Forest…

Then Rivervale Town might have ended up looking exactly like Kalanfor.

Fortunately for Kalanfor, Rivervale Town did exist.

It was an adventuring hub with an Adventurers’ Association, a place that generated enormous tax revenue for the province every year.

Kalanfor sat nearby like one of its satellite settlements.

By clinging to Rivervale Town and feeding off the traffic it attracted, Kalanfor had managed to keep the title of “town” instead of declining into a mere village.

The trip between the two settlements took only four or five days round trip, and the surrounding terrain was relatively flat.

That made Kalanfor a convenient place for adventurers and merchant caravans to stop and rest.

In fact, roughly 70 percent of Kalanfor’s annual tax revenue came from the free-spending adventurers passing through town.

But there was another side to that prosperity.

Adventurers were like sweet water.

Tasty.

Easy to get addicted to.

And slowly harmful if you drank too much.

They lived on the edge of death.

Their income was high, but so was the risk, and after every mission they needed somewhere to vent the pressure that had built up inside them.

They brought money.

They also brought vice.

And in Kalanfor’s shadows, those vices had grown deep roots.

At the western end of town, at the far end of a somewhat deserted street, stood a small tavern named Bagful of Gold.

The name was simple.

The sign hanging above the entrance was even simpler.

A purse overflowing with gold coins.

It was the tavern owner’s wish for prosperity made visible.

It also hinted, not very subtly, at the establishment’s other business.

Click-clack…

Dice rattled inside cups.

The air was thick with alcohol, sweat, and restless excitement.

Warm yellow light spread through the tavern, mixing with the heat of the hearth.

It was the sort of warmth that made people sink into their seats and forget the outside world.

The hall itself should have been spacious.

Instead, the gambling tables were surrounded by dense crowds, squeezing every walkway until the place felt cramped.

That only made the atmosphere hotter.

More frantic.

More addictive.

Kalanfor wasn’t Neum.

It had no endless supply of Nobles and educated intellectuals.

There were no expensive racecourses that cost fortunes to build and maintain.

And very few people here had the patience to sit through a long game of Dragon Chess with its complicated rules.

The low-level adventurers who filled Bagful of Gold preferred something simpler.

Something faster.

Something that could turn greed into excitement in seconds.

“Four, five, two…”

Tim stared at the dice on the table.

Sweat glistened across his face.

Years ago, he’d fought a Gnoll hunter in the wilderness and hadn’t looked half this focused.

“Eleven. Fuck!”

His curse exploded from his mouth at full volume.

No one cared.

The sound vanished into the shouting of the surrounding gamblers.

The coins in front of Tim were swept away.

He touched the purse at his waist.

Nearly empty.

His expression shifted.

As a former adventurer, Tim had once worked a profession built on high risk and high reward.

In a little over ten years, he’d accumulated a considerable fortune.

Enough that, even if he’d stopped earning money completely, he could have lived comfortably in Kalanfor for the rest of his life.

That was how things should have gone.

But an adventurer’s income was far beyond what an ordinary commoner could imagine.

And the habits Tim developed under years of pressure had been equally extreme.

He grew accustomed to spending freely.

To drinking until he forgot himself.

To treating money as if there would always be another mission waiting to replace it.

Within only a few years, the savings that could have supported an entire family for decades were gone.

Now?

Tim wasn’t much wealthier than an ordinary porter.

“Hey, are you done? My turn yet?”

A gambler waiting behind him leaned forward impatiently.

Tim spun around.

His eyes were bloodshot.

For a moment, the savage look on his face was the same one he’d once worn while fighting monsters.

“What are you rushing me for?! Get lost!”

The other man immediately shut his mouth.

He ducked his head, left the line, and went searching for another table.

Only after he’d walked away did Tim faintly hear his muttering.

“Just a broke bastard. Acting tough when he can’t even…”

Tim’s jaw tightened.

Maybe the words struck too close to the sore spot his increasingly miserable life had left behind.

Or maybe the pile of gold and silver gleaming across the table was simply too tempting.

Whatever the reason, something changed in his face.

The hesitation vanished.

In its place came the familiar madness of a gambler.

Bang!

Tim slammed his nearly empty purse onto the table.

…

Ptooey.

A mouthful of spit, heavy with the smell of alcohol, struck the stone-paved street.

Cold night wind swept over Tim.

He pulled his worn coat tighter around himself.

The purse at his waist was empty now.

Completely empty.

“Fuck. I should’ve chased that last hand.”

He staggered forward, resentment boiling in his chest.

“If I’d gone in, I’d have won it all back by now.”

Again and again, he replayed the gambling table in his head.

The lost chances.

The hands he should have followed.

The moments where luck had almost turned.

It felt as if all he needed was one more opportunity.

Just one.

Then he’d win back everything.

His legs carried him through familiar streets without conscious thought.

By the time his mind cleared, he was already standing outside his own home.

A two-story house.

A small garden behind it.

A decent location, only a few dozen minutes from the town center.

It was the kind of property Tim had only been able to buy because he’d once been an adventurer.

He stared at the door.

His lips moved slightly.

His mouth suddenly felt dry.

Then he pushed it open.

“Papa, you’re back!”

A small figure came flying toward him.

Beth threw herself into his arms with a clear, bell-like laugh.

Her little head rubbed against his collar, full of the effortless trust only a child could give.

Tim’s expression softened.

He stroked his daughter’s smooth golden hair and carefully lifted her into his arms.

Then his smile stiffened.

He remembered something.

“I’m sorry, Little Beth.”

His voice turned guilty.

“Papa forgot to buy your favorite muffins.”

“I’ll get some tomorrow, okay?”

A flash of disappointment crossed Beth’s face.

Then, as if afraid her father might notice and think she was upset, she quickly shook her head and smiled.

“That’s okay, Papa!”

Thud.

A steaming plate was set on the table.

“Beth, come eat.”

A fair-skinned woman with her hair pinned up untied her apron as she called to the girl.

She never once looked at Tim.

Not even for a second.

As though he wasn’t there.

Tim’s guilty smile became awkward.

“Coming.”

He carried Beth toward the table.

…

During dinner, Beth chatted happily with her mother.

She talked about the new friends she’d made that day.

The little things that had happened.

The things that seemed enormous and important when you were a child.

Her mother listened patiently and asked questions from time to time.

Tim said nothing.

He kept his head lowered and drank his meat soup one spoonful at a time.

Then, without warning, his wife’s voice changed.

The warmth vanished.

“You went again?”

Tim’s spoon stopped halfway to his mouth.

He knew who she was asking.

He lowered his head even farther and gave the smallest possible nod.

There was no shouting.

No furious accusation.

No argument.

Only a quiet sigh from the other side of the table.

“My parents miss Little Beth.”

His wife spoke calmly.

“I’m taking her back to the countryside for a while.”

Tim’s head snapped up.

“What?”

Panic spread across his face.

“No. No, don’t!”

“I’ll make money. I will! I just need some starting capital. Just a little.”

His words began spilling out faster.

“I can win it back. I know I can.”

His wife looked at him.

Coldly.

Silently.

That silence frightened him more than anger would have.

Tim leaned forward.

“I… Adventuring!”

“Right. I can go back to adventuring.”

“I can take jobs again. Things will get better. They will.”

His voice tightened.

“I promise.”

Silence settled over the table.

A long time passed.

Finally, his wife sighed again.

She reached into the pocket of her worn clothing and took out a bulging purse.

She placed it gently on the table.

“This is what I’ve managed to save from working as a laundress.”

Tim stared at it.

“If you want to maintain your equipment and go back to your old work, use it.”

“If you want to clean yourself up and find an ordinary job, use it for that.”

Her expression looked tired.

“I won’t say anything else.”

“Do whatever you want.”

She stood and began gathering the dishes.

“I’m washing up.”

Then she walked into the kitchen.

Tim sat motionless.

His eyes remained fixed on the purse.

A long time passed.

Then something tugged gently at his clothes.

He looked down.

Beth had stopped talking the moment the atmosphere at the table turned cold.

Now she looked up at him with careful, serious eyes.

“Papa.”

Her voice was small.

“You don’t have to buy muffins tomorrow.”

She hesitated.

“Beth doesn’t like them.”

…

At first light the next morning, Tim left home with the purse his wife had given him tucked inside his clothes.

He was a former adventurer.

He’d fought all kinds of monsters.

Even without entering Misty Forest, there should have been plenty of work for someone with his experience inside a relatively safe town like Kalanfor.

That was what he told himself.

But years of decline had left their mark.

The edge he once possessed, the kind forged by bathing in monster blood and fighting desperately to survive, had long since been worn away.

He used part of his wife’s savings to make himself presentable.

It didn’t help much.

The dead weight in his posture remained.

And so did his reputation.

People in the relevant circles already knew exactly what kind of man Tim had become.

One rejection followed another.

By dusk, Tim was walking home alone.

Exhausted.

He knew the truth.

With his current situation, finding a well-paying job wouldn’t be easy.

It certainly wasn’t something he could solve in a day or two.

But knowing that didn’t make the rejections sting any less.

He remembered the cold expressions he’d seen.

The dismissive looks.

The way those men had spoken to him.

His teeth ground together.

“What are they acting so damn important for?”

“Ten years ago, I…”

His thoughts twisted.

“Money.”

“It’s just money.”

Tim’s face darkened.

“I used to make more than 10 gold from one mission!”

He disappeared into memories of the past.

Meanwhile, his feet kept moving.

Almost like muscle memory.

Almost like they knew where he wanted to go before he admitted it to himself.

One step.

Then another.

Then another.

By the time Tim came back to his senses, he was standing in front of a familiar door.

Warm light spilled through the cracks.

So did the smell of alcohol.

Laughter.

Shouting.

The clatter of dice.

Tim stood there in a daze.

Something complicated churned in the depths of his eyes.

Then, almost without thinking, he raised both hands.

And pushed the door open.

…

The house was clean.

Neat.

And painfully empty.

Sparse furniture made the family’s difficult circumstances obvious.

Tim’s wife stood by the window and looked out at the fully darkened sky.

The street beyond was empty.

The man who should have been home long ago was nowhere to be seen.

Just like before.

She lowered her gaze.

This time, she didn’t sigh.

She simply continued packing.

“Beth, are all your clothes ready?”

“Yes, Mother!”

Beth hesitated.

“But Papa…”

“Go to sleep.”

Her mother’s voice remained gentle.

“We’ll leave at dawn tomorrow. Your grandparents miss you very much.”

“Mm…”

Beth lowered her head.

“Okay.”

…

Bang!

The front door of the two-story house flew open.

Tim strode inside beneath the bright morning sun.

His face was still flushed from an entire night of excitement.

In one hand, he carried a beautifully wrapped bag of muffins.

“Hahaha! Little Beth!”

He raised the bag.

“Look what Papa brought you!”

No one ran to greet him.

No small figure threw herself into his arms.

No clatter of utensils came from the kitchen.

No familiar domestic sounds filled the house.

Only Tim’s own excited voice echoed through the empty rooms.

His smile froze.

The paper bag slipped from his hand.

He started calling their names.

Then he opened one door.

Another.

Another.

He searched every room.

Even the wardrobes.

Nothing.

The excitement on his face slowly drained away.

By the time the sun began sinking again, Tim was sitting alone in the disordered living room.

The emptiness inside him had been unbearable.

Slowly, painfully, it settled.

And in its place came something he hadn’t felt in years.

Resolve.

Crash!

An old wooden chest coated in dust was dragged up from the basement and dropped into the living room.

Tim crouched beside it.

He struggled to find the keyhole beneath the grime, inserted the key, and turned it.

Click.

The chest opened.

Inside lay a half-body suit of scale armor, its surface beginning to rust.

Beside it rested two metal short blades whose edges had long since dulled.

Tim reached out.

His fingers brushed the armor.

Cool.

Familiar.

For a moment, the past seemed close enough to touch.

Then his hand moved to the bulging purse inside his clothes.

The weight should have reassured him.

Instead, it made him uneasy.

[This isn’t enough to buy a whole new set of equipment.]

[But it’s more than enough to take these old partners of mine to a blacksmith and have them restored.]

His fingers rested on the armor.

[I wonder how the captain and the others are doing…]

Knock, knock, knock.

Tim froze.

His eyes widened.

Then he sprang to his feet and rushed toward the door.

He slammed one foot into a piece of furniture along the way and nearly went down, but scrambled back up without caring.

Creak!

The wooden door flew open.

Tim’s face had already lit up.

Then he saw who was standing outside.

His expression stopped.

“Captain?”

The man in front of him was also middle-aged.

No longer young.

But the resemblance ended there.

Where Tim looked worn out and hollow, the other man looked strong and alert.

He was broad-shouldered, fierce in bearing, and wore a well-maintained suit of armor.

“Captain, why are you here?”

Tim forced a smile and stepped aside.

“Come in.”

The man didn’t move.

He only looked Tim over with a slight frown.

Then he spoke coldly.

“We got a newcomer recently. There wasn’t enough room on the team, so I made a trip to Rivervale Town and had your name removed from the roster.”

His gaze remained flat.

“You’re not doing this kind of work anymore anyway, right?”

He reached into the pack behind him, pulled out a purse, and tossed it to Tim.

“We’ve still got a job to finish, so I won’t stay.”

The man turned away.

“Maybe we’ll run into each other again someday.”

…

Creak.

Thud.

The door closed.

Tim sat alone beside the dining table.

Dim evening light spilled through the window behind him, painting his body in dull shadow.

His face was calm.

Too calm.

So still it was almost frightening.

He stared at the old armor on the table.

The dust hadn’t even been wiped away yet.

His fingertips twitched.

Once.

…

At the pawnshop,

the scale armor and two short blades were thrown onto the counter.

In exchange, Tim received a purse filled with glittering gold.

At the tavern,

Tim leaned over the table with his face flushed.

His bloodshot eyes reflected the shaking dice cup.

He shouted until his voice went hoarse.

It was as if the money wasn’t the only thing he’d pushed onto the table.

His soul had gone with it.

Deep in the night,

Tim staggered through the empty streets, drenched in the smell of alcohol.

His lips moved constantly.

No one could tell what he was muttering.

Bang!

Something hit him from the front.

Tim crashed to the ground.

“Fuck!”

The curse came out slurred and thick.

He turned his spinning head and saw only a large, broad figure striding quickly away.

Tim struggled up, ready to chase after the man and start trouble.

Then the hand he planted against the ground touched something strange.

Not stone.

Not dirt.

Leather.

Tim frowned.

It was a thin book bound in some kind of unusual hide.

There were no words on the cover.

Only one image in the corner.

A white Human skull.