I Thought I Picked up a Girl Who Had Fallen Down, but It Turned Out To Be the Future Demon Lord - CH 22.2

“I don’t believe in rumors without examining the information. How long are you going to stay in this town?”

“I’ve just taken lodgings for six days. I’m thinking of staying longer than that.

“…Well, I’ll pay you according to the information you give me. First of all, I’ll pay one silver coin in advance. I promise to pay at least ten silver coins, depending on the information.”

“I see, I see. Then come back in six days. I’ll have it all together by then.”

I firmly grasp Gareth’s hand as a gesture. The business deal is done.

Gareth smiles cheerfully as he places the single silver coin I have just pulled out of my pouch on the counter as if he’s feeling good.

“The first drink is on me. I’ll buy you your first drink.”

“That will be great. …Is it okay to ask for the finest drink in the store?”

“Wow, you’re a solid guy. You’re going to bankrupt me.”

“I’m kidding. I’ll have the regular drink in town.”

“Oh, so you’re asking for the best drink in town, huh? Ah, taste it.”

Gareth then took out a magnificent bottle from the shelf behind him.

A viscous liquid is poured from the bottle into the glass. A rich, moist honey aroma drifts into the air.

“You see, this is the finest and most carefully selected honey produced in the town of Miel…”

I take a sip from my glass while listening to Gareth’s insights.

The aroma of the honey is thick and rich, and it spreads all over my mouth. And yet, what spreads in my mouth is a slightly pleasant bitterness and a crystal clear spirit.

This is delicious. The taste is surprisingly sophisticated, but it’s not…

Muuu…(Sob)

It is not enough.

The taste is perfect, there’s nothing to complain about. But what comes to my mind is the memory of a drink I had the other day on a rainy day. It is more fulfilling than this.

The difference – it is obvious.

There was Spica, pouring the drink into my cup with her slender hands.

I wonder if she was alone in the room now. My body, which has begun to heat up, cools down quickly.

I stare at the glass with steely eyes and grab the drink and pour it down my throat.

“Whoa! Hey, man, this stuff is expensive!”

“I’ll take a bottle. I’d also like to buy a bottle of non-alcoholic juice. Do you have any?”

When Gareth hears these words, he grins, leans over the counter, and taps me lightly on the shoulder.

“Ha, ha. Ha, ha, ha. I see. That’s right, it’s not good to drink alone. Now go home. Of course, I’ll take your money for the drinks.”

†††

“Pick the day.”

It’s a line from an ancient Roman poet that I’d heard in my previous life.

I walk along a narrow path lit by moonlight. While my head was fuzzy, I ran through a single road as if I were sewing it.

The meaning of these words is: we don’t know when the gods will give us death. Instead of looking for hope in our short lives, we should enjoy the present. Pluck the flowers that color the day, pick as many opportunities as you can, drink, eat, and enjoy your life.

That’s what I mean.

I’ve been out …for a little over an hour.

At first, I’m walking slowly down the street, but then my feet start to move faster and faster, and before I know it, I’m running as fast as I can. I wonder what I’m doing.

I know that drinking alone is, well, boring.

And when I imagine Spica waiting alone in a dark room, a mixture of emotions fills me with a bad feeling. It is something akin to frustration, and it makes me walk faster.

…Apparently, I’m enjoying our trip together more than I thought I would.

Before I left, I asked Jaco-chan if she would chat with her again, but she is also working all day. I didn’t know if she would be able to meet her.

I find myself standing in front of the inn and slowly open the door.

I see Jaco-chan standing at the reception desk. She gives me a thumbs-up, but I reply by waving my hand, and climb the stairs.

I see a white color door that gives me a cool impression.

When I knock on the door. There is no answer. I wonder if she is asleep.

I make a small call before I enter and open the door.

As it turns out, Spica is sitting on a chair with her back to the door.

Her back is surprisingly small and weak as if she is about to disappear into the night.

A moment later, she turned around.

The lamp makes her silver hair shine clear and softly sway. Her big eyes roll back in her head, and she looks puzzled.

“…You’re early. What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know.”

I took a few ragged breaths on the spot and spat out the same words again.

“I don’t know.”

I lazily approach her and pat Spica’s little head.

“I’m sorry.”

“…for what?”

“It’s nothing.”

Then, I put all my weight on the chair.