Chapter 147 | Meeting Aurelyx Again

Chapter 147: 147 | Meeting Aurelyx Again

The girl was Aurelyx.

Andrew recognized her the moment he sat down. Those crimson eyes—vivid, unnatural, glowing faintly in the firelight—were impossible to forget. She was the vampire girl who had appeared in his room the first and only time he had slept in the village head’s mansion. She had woken him in the darkness, her red eyes studying him with that same cold, calculating assessment she was giving him now across the dinner table.

Some things never changed.

They ate in silence.

The village head did most of the talking, filling the room with easy conversation—the weather, the harvest, the state of the village walls, the latest news from the surrounding territories. His daughter chimed in occasionally, adding details or correcting her father’s memory with the patient exasperation of someone who had been doing it for years. The granddaughter—the same one Andrew had saved previously—muttered a few words between bites, smiling shyly at Andrew whenever their eyes met.

It looked like a family dinner. Warm. Comfortable. Ordinary.

Except for the two people at opposite ends of the table who refused to acknowledge each other’s existence.

Andrew ate quietly, responding only when directly addressed, offering brief murmurs of agreement or nods of acknowledgment. Aurelyx did the same—or rather, she did something similar. She ate in silence, her crimson eyes fixed on her plate, her expression unreadable. She didn’t speak to Andrew. She didn’t look at Andrew. She didn’t acknowledge his presence in any way whatsoever.

But she didn’t argue either.

Neither of them did. And the village head noticed.

The old man said nothing about it, but Andrew caught the brief, satisfied glance he cast between the two of them—a look that said *this is the best I’m going to get, and I’ll take it.*

The dinner ended without incident.

As the plates were cleared and the granddaughter began stacking bowls, the village head pushed back his chair and stood.

"Andrew," he said, his tone shifting from the warmth of a dinner host to something more purposeful. "Come walk with me."

Andrew nodded and rose from his seat.

Behind him, he heard Aurelyx snort—a sharp, derisive sound that cut through the quiet room like a blade. Andrew rolled his eyes. He didn’t turn around. He didn’t respond. He simply proceeded to ignore her, following the village head toward the door.

The night air was cool against his skin as they stepped outside. The village head led him around the back of the mansion and onto the main street, walking at a slow, unhurried pace. His hands were clasped behind his back, his footsteps measured and steady.

They walked side by side.

---

The street was not empty.

Beginner Village at night was still alive with activity—players moving about, completing late quests, hunting monsters in the fields, or simply wandering the streets in search of hidden opportunities. Torches lined the main road, casting pools of warm light that pushed back the darkness in uneven circles.

The moment the players on the street saw the village head, their eyes lit up.

Andrew could almost see the calculations happening behind those eyes. The village head was outside. Outside the mansion. Outside the protection of his guards. For weeks—possibly months—these players had been trying to gain access to the village head. They had approached the mansion, requested audiences, attempted to sweet-talk the guards, tried every method they could think of to get an audience with the man who held the keys to class advancement and hidden quests.

And every single time, they had been turned away.

The guards were immovable. The gates were closed. The village head was unavailable.

But now he was here. Walking down the street. In the open. No guards. No gates. No barriers between them and the most important NPC in the entire village.

Several players immediately started moving toward them, their expressions eager, their steps quickening. Andrew could see the hunger in their faces—the desperate, grinding need for an edge, any edge, that would help them level up faster, get stronger, pull ahead of the competition. A quest from the village head could be that edge. A hidden quest could change everything.

The village head saw them too.

He didn’t shout. He didn’t raise a hand. He didn’t even change his expression.

He simply glared.

It was a subtle thing—a slight narrowing of the eyes, a tightening of the jaw, a shift in the old man’s demeanor that transformed him from a kindly grandfather into something else entirely. Something that carried weight. Something that commanded respect. Something that reminded everyone on that street that this man was not just a friendly NPC—he was the leader of this village, and his authority was not negotiable.

Instantly, system notifications popped up in front of every player who had been moving toward them.

[ WARNING: Approaching the Village Head without authorization will result in a Fame penalty. ]

[ Penalty: -5 Fame (if current Fame is 0). ]

[ Note: Players with negative Fame will be treated as criminals and expelled from Beginner Village. ]

The effect was immediate.

Every single player stopped. Faces changed—eager expressions collapsing into fear, then frustration, then resignation. They had seen the notification. They had read the penalty. And they understood, with painful clarity, what it meant.

Minus five fame.

For players who had zero fame—and most of them did, because fame was extraordinarily difficult to earn in Beginner Village—dropping to minus five was a death sentence. Not literally, but practically. Negative fame meant being labeled a criminal. Being chased out of the village. Losing access to the shops, the trainers, the quest-givers, and—most critically—the village head himself.

And it was only the village head who granted class advancement. Only the village head who gave players the opportunity to advance past level 10. Without access to the village head, they would be stuck at level 10 forever. Unable to progress. Unable to compete. Unable to matter.

So they backed off.

They turned away, their faces dark with disappointment and jealousy, and left. But not before casting long, lingering looks at Andrew—looks filled with envy and resentment and the bitter, burning question that they couldn’t answer.

’Why?’

Why was the village head walking with a fellow player? Why was this NPC—strolling side by side with some random player as though they were old friends? As though Andrew were his long-forgotten son returned from war?

They couldn’t understand it. They had used various methods and they couldn’t even get a foot in the door of the village head’s mansion. And here was Andrew, walking beside the man like it was the most natural thing in the world.

The jealousy was thick enough to taste.

Andrew didn’t care.

He didn’t look at them. He didn’t acknowledge their stares. He didn’t notice the envy in their eyes or the resentment in their expressions. His attention was focused entirely on the old man walking beside him, listening to every word the village head said.

---

"I see you are at level 10 already," the village head said, his tone conversational.

Andrew nodded. "Yes."

The village head sighed and shook his head slowly—not in disapproval, but in something closer to wonder.

"Your progress is the fastest I have ever seen," he said. "From all the visitors that have passed through this village. All the players. All the heroes. None of them reached level 10 as quickly as you did."

He paused, glancing sideways at Andrew.

"And I assume your trip to Godfall Mountain was also successful?"

Andrew’s eyes flashed.

He didn’t respond. He didn’t nod. He didn’t shake his head. He gave nothing away—no confirmation, no denial, no reaction whatsoever. His face remained perfectly neutral, his gaze fixed forward, his stride unchanged.

The village head noticed. He smiled and shook his head.

"Don’t mind me," he said, waving a hand dismissively. "It’s because of my old age. I’ve become quite nosy. When you’ve lived as long as I have, you start poking into other people’s business out of habit."

He chuckled—a warm, self-deprecating sound that echoed slightly in the quiet street.

Andrew still didn’t say anything.

The old man’s chuckle faded into a sigh. He looked up at the night sky, the stars scattered across the black canvas overhead, and his expression shifted into something more reflective. More solemn.

"Well," he said, "it is quite a good thing, to be honest. It’s been hundreds of years—maybe even thousands—since the youth of our village would risk their lives to enter such a treacherous mountain. They’ve grown comfortable. Safe. Afraid."

His voice carried the weight of someone who had watched generations come and go, who had seen courage fade into caution and caution fade into complacency.

"The blacksmith’s son managed to come back alive," the village head continued. "Thanks to you. But the others..."

He trailed off. As his jaw tightened. He didn’t finish the sentence; he didn’t need to.

The others were dead. Eaten by the bosses that guarded the path through the stone tower. Consumed by the creatures that lurked between the entrance and the god domain.