Once Cale returned to the tea shop, Bilose greeted him happily. “Ah, Lord Cale! You’re back!”
“That I am. Bring me some tea,” Cale ordered. “A refreshing blend this time.”
He reclaimed his seat upstairs. The shop should’ve been busy at this hour, but there was nobody else on the third floor. It seemed they were all avoiding the lout of the count’s family—which allowed Cale to relax.
“Your tea, my lord. I’ve also brought up a few desserts.”
“Oh, great. Thanks.” Cale continued to surveil the city gate as he took a sip of tea.
Bilose observed the lout’s face with a complicated expression, then quietly went back downstairs.
Cale kept ordering tea and desserts, perched by the window, even as sunset painted the sky in warm orange hues. Night fell soon after. Only once it was dark did he get up from his seat. It was time to cross paths with the dangerous character who would scale the city walls.
What ticked a person off more—when they were hit by a strong, straight punch or by five or six jabs? It was, of course, the latter. In the book, Cale had thrown five jabs before Choi Han beat him to a pulp. But a single punch wouldn’t be so bad in comparison.
“Are you off, my lord?”
“Uh-huh.”
Few people remained in Bilose’s shop. It was past nine—a time when more people visited bars than cafés. The bars would be teeming with people, especially since this was the hour when the quarry workers went for drinks.
“I look forward to your next visit, Lord Cale.”
Cale nodded. “The tea was great,” he told Bilose, who was still watching him. “The book was good too, although I only got through half of it. I especially liked the main character. His abilities and his development were interesting.”
Bilose’s eyebrows knitted for a moment before returning to normal. His eyes glinted as he observed Cale. The redhead didn’t notice these subtleties; he was too busy trying to remember the book’s contents. He hadn’t been able to focus on the volume, since he’d read it between bouts of stomach-churning anxiety caused by Choi Han. Despite the worry in his heart, it had still been fun to read.
Cale could comprehend this world’s language; perhaps this was a side effect of possessing the original Cale’s body. He’d had no difficulty understanding and enjoying the contents of the book.
He smiled at Bilose, whose expression was now blank. “I intend to pick that book right back up next time I’m here. Don’t let anyone else read it.”
Monopolizing someone else’s property was ordinary behavior for the lout. Bilose might not like it, but what could he do? He was a wealthy merchant’s illegitimate child; Cale was the eldest son of a count.
“Of course! I’ll reserve this book for you, my lord!” Bilose’s response surprised Cale; the shopkeeper smiled brightly, urging Cale to return soon. “You absolutely must come again. I’ll be waiting!”
“Sure, whatever.”
Exiting the tea shop left a bitter taste in Cale’s mouth, but he had to meet Choi Han. The bell jingled once again, and chatter in the shop seemed to pick up behind him. It was even louder outside, though.
The count’s territory may have been far from the capital, but it was hardly a backwater. It had prospered thanks to its many artists and makers of specialty goods. Workers looking to relax after a long day in the quarries roamed the streets in search of an evening drink.
The count’s son walked the bustling street alone.
If you think about it, Cale really was a unique character.
In fantasy and martial arts series, the lout of a family normally hung out with neighborhood gangsters or bad influences. They drank, fooled around with women, and caused a ruckus in streets and shops. The funny thing was, the real Cale Henituse actually despised bullies and good-for-nothings.
He considered them insects.
The worst of insects to boot. By contrast, he’d seen the region’s diligent citizens as more beneficial bugs, though they had no hope of a better future. He’d never beaten people at random when he was drunk; he was amazingly consistent about throwing things at gangsters, although his aim was terrible.
“Oh my. Lord Cale, you’re here?”
Perhaps his terrible aim was the reason the bar owner seemed extremely frightened of the lout. That was to be expected. Last time Cale was here, he had destroyed pretty much everything within the vicinity of where he sat. In fact, he was probably number one on the blacklist of every bar in Weston.
Cale didn’t respond to the owner, just threw a gold coin at him. “Bring a bottle of my usual. Oh, and a roast chicken breast. Don’t salt it.”
“Excuse me? Y-you don’t want to find a seat first?”
Cale frowned, his forehead wrinkling.
The proprietor instantly waved his hands, bowing his head. “I’ll bring you your drink immediately! Immediately!” He moved quickly, but he had a smile on his face. It must’ve thrilled him that Cale wasn’t planning to sit down and pass the time in his establishment.
Cale glanced around the bar, which had gone quiet the moment he walked in. Everyone avoided his gaze or turned away, most likely wondering why he’d chosen this bar today. The gangsters and good-for-nothings hung their heads lowest.
He clicked his tongue. The sound resonated loudly throughout the otherwise-silent bar.
“Here’s the bottle you requested, Lord Cale.”
“Great.”
He grabbed the bottle, as well as the roast chicken breast. This wine, which he drank often, was probably the bar’s most expensive. He left the bar without hesitation, carrying the bottle. As soon as he stepped out, he popped open the bottle and drank half in one swig.
“Whoa.”
It was pretty tasty. Cale could handle his alcohol; drinking half the bottle at once didn’t affect him at all. He flushed easily, though, which made people think he was a lightweight.
Cale quickly doubled back the way he came, bottle in hand. As he walked past the tea shop he’d stayed in all day, the guards posted at the city gate noticed him and stiffened. Though he itched to stride right past them, he had another place to be.
“Ugh. My chest is burning.”
As the booze surged through his body, his stomach’s churning worsened. At length, he stopped beside the city wall, a little ways down from the gate. The tall wall started at the gate and continued on, extending above the roofs of a number of buildings and staving off intruders.
Well, that depends on the type of intruder. Cale recalled a detail from the book: A hundred steps from the city gate. That was where Choi Han jumped over the city wall.
Squeezing the bottle tighter, Cale trotted over to the spot. There were few people on the streets, since this was a corner of a residential area. He breathed deeply once he reached the location he’d pinpointed—by the city wall, exactly one hundred steps from the gate. The only light sources were the torches along the top of the wall and the glow from the residences’ windows. It would be enough for him, though. Now that his eyes had adjusted to the dark, he crept closer to his destination.
Just as I expected.
He spotted something scrunched up at the foot of the wall. Multiple somethings, actually. Making a beeline for the shaking, miserable mass, Cale heard the distinctive cries of felines.
“Meow…”
“Meeeow!”
Two cats were curled up at the very bottom of the wall, meowing in an almost mournful way.
Cale smirked. He’d found it. This is the place.
This was a world where coincidence played a major role. The moment Choi Han jumped over the wall, the larger kitten had pounced on the smaller one, tossing it into the exact spot where Choi Han would’ve landed. Choi Han had lurched in midair to avoid it.
He really is a good guy.
In his squirming to protect the kitten, Choi Han had twisted his ankle. He normally wouldn’t have hurt himself due to a pivot mid-jump, but he’d raced to this city after burying numerous corpses and killing dozens of men for the very first time. His body had reached its limit, leading to the mistake.
“Meow.”
“Meeeow.”
Cale crouched and gazed at the shaking kitten and the bigger one licking it. They seemed to be littermates. Then he turned, looking down the alley opposite the one he’d come from.
Found him.
A man was slouched on the ground, looking like a total mess. He resembled any other vagrant or beggar you’d find in the city’s back alleys. His hair and clothes were unkempt and even appeared burnt, as did his sword.
According to Birth of a Hero, Cale and Choi Han would meet the next day. Tonight, Cale was supposed to get drunk and earn the scar on his side. Things were already going differently than they had in the novel—just minor things, granted.
Having crouched to look at the kittens, Cale stood. Feeling the lout’s gaze on him, Choi Han slowly lifted his head, his brown eyes focusing on Cale through his shaggy black hair.
Cale’s heart thumped in his chest. Damn it. I’m shaking.
It was too dark to see in perfect detail, but even through Choi Han’s hair, Cale could tell his eyes weren’t just cold. They were downright terrifying.
Downing that wine was a good idea, Cale thought. Congratulating himself for making such a smart decision, he tried to calm down. Jab. He needed to “launch a jab” and leave a good first impression.
He swallowed past the lump in his throat. “You look like you’re hungry,” he told Choi Han, who merely stared back at him.
Clicking his tongue, he took the chicken breast out of the bag. He tenderly offered the chicken not to Choi Han but to the kittens.
“You poor things. Go ahead, eat up.”
Cale hadn’t realized the kittens from the book would be this small. He wasn’t sure they’d be able to eat it. Clicking his tongue again, he shredded the chicken for them, wondering what in the world he was doing. To be honest, Cale didn’t like cats. Choi Han treasured small animals, though. The injured kitten—which had silver fur and golden eyes—bared its teeth and hissed, as if it could sense Cale’s displeasure. The redhead stroked the silver kitten and spoke softly to it, although it must really not have liked that. It did its best to avoid Cale’s hand.
“You guys have it tough. Eat this, and get better soon.” He didn’t bother glancing at Choi Han as he went on, knowing the hero was watching. “Hey. Do you have somewhere to stay?”