By the time they found the inn, night had already blanketed Marlingdon in a cool hush, the streets lit only by flickering lanterns and the occasional torch-bearing patrol. The inn they chose stood at the corner of a narrow street not particularly grand, not exactly sturdy-looking, but it had a sign that swung lazily in the breeze, painted with a mug of ale and the name The Sleepy Stag.
It was three stories tall, mostly made of old wood that creaked when the wind hit it just right. The kind of place that smelled like ale, smoke, and the faint memory of wet boots. Definitely the cheapest inn they'd seen. But that was intentional.
"If we book something expensive," Leo muttered as they stared up at it, "El will kill us."
"Not scold," Matthew added. "Actually kill us."
They nodded in solemn agreement and entered.
Inside, the first floor doubled as a pub. Wooden tables filled the space, crowded with mercenaries and townsfolk drinking off the day's troubles. A lute player plucked away in the corner, completely ignored. Somewhere near the hearth, a drunk was loudly retelling a story about punching a wyvern.
At the counter stood a woman who looked somewhere between her late thirties and early forties, wiping mugs with a rag that had probably seen better days. She noticed them immediately and called out with a voice that was used to being heard over laughter and brawls.
"Evenin', boys. You look like you've fought a bear and then slept in its den. Room for the night?"
"Yes, please," Leo said, straightening up. "Something simple. For two."
"Two beds, one room?" she asked, eyeing their size like a mother checking if her kids were about to grow horns.
"Yes," Matthew confirmed. "We don't mind sharing a room."
"Fifteen Gallion, includes breakfast tomorrow. We've got stew on the menu too if you're hungry."
The price made Leo wince slightly, but he handed over the coins. The woman counted it, nodded, then reached behind the counter and handed them a key dangling on a thick metal ring.
"Second floor, third door on the left. Water tank's full tonight. If you're quick, you might even get it hot."
"Bless you," Leo said sincerely.
The room was… perfect. At least, by their current standards.
The walls, floor, and even the ceiling were wood. The beds were narrow but clean, each with a decent futon and fluffy-enough pillows. A small, square window let in the faint glow of the town's lantern-lit streets. In the corner, there was a door leading to a surprisingly neat bathroom. Not big, but functional—enough for one person to enjoy the rare luxury of hot water.
The moment the door clicked shut behind them, the mood shifted.
Both their heads slowly turned toward the bathroom. Then, simultaneously—
"I'm going first!" they shouted.
Matthew lunged. Leo shoved his face aside and dashed for the door. Matthew spun, kicked out a leg, and swept Leo's feet from under him.
"Ack—!" Leo landed with a thud, groaning.
But as Matthew leapt over him, Leo grabbed his ankle and yanked hard. Matthew yelped as he face planted into the wooden floor, groaning right next to Leo.
They both lay there for a moment, breathing hard, defeated by each other.
"…Rock, paper, scissors?" Leo offered weakly.
"Fine," Matthew grunted.
They sat up, facing each other solemnly like duelists.
"One. Two. Three."
"Rock."
"Paper."
Leo's shoulders slumped.
Matthew grinned smugly and stood, brushing himself off like a champion.
"Thank you for your sacrifice," he said, sauntering into the bathroom with the pride of a king.
Leo groaned again and let himself flop backward onto the bed.
But even from the floor, he could feel it the soft mattress, the warm air, the safety.
Compared to the cold nights of running, hiding, and bleeding out in the wild… this was heaven.
He smiled to himself, arms folded behind his head.
We made it, he thought. We're alive.
After Matthew finished his bath, Leo took his turn next.
The warm water stung a little as it met the cuts along his arms, but it was a good kind of pain. A reminder that they'd survived something. That they were still breathing. He took his time, letting the fatigue wash off him along with the dirt and dried blood.
They didn't rest yet.
Not until they visited the clinic.
The building wasn't far, just down the cobblestone road, lit faintly by the lanterns hanging from crooked iron poles. When they stepped inside, the scent of herbs and disinfectants filled their noses. It was quiet, the soft creak of the old wood beneath their boots the only sound.
El was there, lying asleep on one of the beds.
She looked peaceful for once, her chest rising and falling slowly under the thin blanket. The bandages were still wrapped around her shoulder and midsection, and the healing salve gave off a bitter smell. A candle flickered dimly on the bedside table.
They were about to leave, careful not to wake her—
"Leaving already?"
Leo turned, surprised. El's voice was still groggy, but her eyes were open now, blinking at them.
He rubbed the back of his neck. "Didn't want to wake you. You need the rest."
"I wasn't sleeping," she said, trying to sit up. "Just… closing my eyes.
Yeah, right.
Leo and Matt exchanged a look. Her hair was a mess, her cheek was flushed, and there was a fresh line of drool running from the corner of her mouth.
"Sure," Matthew said, grinning. "Closing your eyes with full commitment, huh?"
El wiped her face in embarrassment and scowled. "Shut up."
She shifted into a sitting position, wincing a little, and asked, "So? What did you two do while I was totally not asleep?"
They told her everything—the visit to the guild, the mercenary registry, how they got their IDs, and how much they earned from selling monster parts.
El raised her brows when she heard the number. "three hundred Gallion?"
Matthew grinned proudly. "We're rich."
"Temporarily," Leo added.
They told her she should register too, once she was cleared by the clinic. El nodded. "Yeah. Makes sense. If I'm stuck with you two, I might as well get paid."
"Ouch," Matt said, mock-offended.
"Shut up. I didn't say it was bad being stuck with you."
Before El could ask more questions, Leo reached into his bag and pulled something out—a plastic-wrapped bundle of noodles, still warm.
"You really think we'd visit without bringing food?" he said.
They hadn't sold most of the meat they'd hunted, keeping the bulk of it for travel. But for now, they'd bought something easy and warm, a savory noodle pack from one of the roadside food stalls.
They asked the nurse if there were bowls they could borrow, and she gladly helped, even giving them some wooden chopsticks and a kettle of hot water.
Soon, the three of them sat close together one on a stool, one on the floor, and El propped up in bed.
Steam rose from their bowls.
And for the first time in days, they ate together without fear. Just soft laughter, shared glances, and the sound of noodles being slurped in peace.