CHAPTER 21
At Kyle’s words, saying he’d saved him from falling, the man let out a stream of harsh curses.
Though he looked extremely drunk, Kyle instantly saw through him—he was pretending to be drunk to get close to Everett.
Kyle swiftly grabbed the man’s arm, twisted it behind his back, and forced it up.
“Argh! That hurts, damn it! Who the hell are you?!”
The man screamed in pain.
As he struggled to break free, Kyle twisted his other arm too.
With double the pain, the man couldn’t even scream—he simply opened his mouth wide in silent agony.
Hearing the sudden commotion, Marsha came running and clicked her tongue when she saw who Kyle had restrained.
She tapped the man’s cheek and spoke.
“Oh dear, oh dear… Sir, did this guy do something to you?”
“I-I didn’t do anything! I swear, I didn’t do a thing!”
Kyle let out a quiet laugh.
“Exactly. You didn’t do a thing. I just grabbed you because you were about to fall and bump into the young lady.”
“See?! I didn’t do any—ARGH!”
Kyle tightened his grip on the man’s arm.
“I knew it. I’ve always thought the way you looked at our young lady was suspicious.”
At Marsha’s words, Kyle’s eyes flashed sharply.
“Is that so?”
“Yeah, he only ever shows up on the days the young lady comes in for dinner. Now it makes sense.”
“I was just drunk and stumbling! You think I’m crazy, especially with you around?! And hey, boss! You think you can treat a customer like this?!”
Marsha smacked the man’s head hard.
“Customer, my ass. Scumbags like you aren’t welcome in my shop ever again. What, you think you can threaten people?”
She grabbed the man by the collar.
“Thank you for your help, sir. I’ll handle it from here.”
Marsha was sturdier than most men, but Kyle still asked, concerned.
“Will you be alright? I caught him, so… Or should I just kill him now?”
At Kyle’s words, the man flinched and squirmed violently.
“Heh… Kill me? Gosh, a handsome man like you talks scary.”
As Kyle let go, Marsha gripped the man’s shoulder with a force that belied her size, making him scream again.
“My shoulder! It’s breaking!”
With an even louder scream than before, the man was dragged out of the shop.
Kyle sat beside Everett, his sharp eyes softening.
“Young lady, this is my thanks for the talisman gift.”
His voice was deeper than before.
Through the shadow of his hood, emerald eyes shimmered.
In that moment, Everett had a strange feeling of déjà vu, as if she’d seen this version of Kyle somewhere before.
“Thank you, sir.”
Marsha returned and offered a greeting.
“The shop’s closed, but I’d love to offer you an ice kuna on the house. What do you say?”
“Oh, I wish I could… but I need to be somewhere. I should get going.”
“That’s too bad. Then I’ll treat you next time you come.”
“I’m not sure… if I’ll be able to come again.”
Marsha let out a loud laugh.
“Plenty haven’t tried ice kuna, but no one’s ever had it just once. You’ll be back.”
“Is that so? Hmm… Well, if I’m ever passing by again, I’ll definitely stop in.”
Kyle glanced at Everett and murmured softly.
“There’s someone I’d like to see again, too.”
He had snuck into the capital using teleportation magic, so he had to leave before morning.
Running into Everett had delayed him quite a bit.
“Well then, young lady, until next time…”
After a light farewell, Kyle exited the tavern.
The cold dawn breeze touched his face, and his eyes returned to their cool sharpness.
Kyle turned and headed toward his original destination—Yankeller’s quarters at the temple.
Knock, knock.
Kyle tapped gently on Yankeller’s door.
‘He must be fast asleep by now… Should I just break the door? The handle looks weak—it might open with a little force.’
Just as he reached for the knob, the door swung open.
“Who is it, at this hour…”
Yankeller, half-asleep, couldn’t even open his eyes properly.
“Hey, Yan!”
Kyle waved cheerfully.
“Uh… huh? K-Kyle?!”
Yankeller’s eyes widened at the sight of Kyle, who was supposed to be up north.
Kyle pushed past him, stepped into the room, and locked the door.
“I didn’t think you’d welcome me so warmly, Great Future Mage Yankeller.”
“What is going on? No, wait—never mind that. It’s good to see you, Kyle.”
Finally snapping out of it, Yankeller hugged Kyle tightly.
“You’re not hurt, right?”
“Of course not. Do I look like the kind of guy who’d get taken down by monsters?”
“How did you get here? Did you… use the magic orb I sent?”
Kyle nodded.
“I figured you’d be curious whether it worked, so I used it the moment I got it. I landed somewhere else, though.”
Yankeller immediately grabbed his notebook and started bombarding Kyle with questions.
“What destination did you enter? Where did you end up? What did it feel like when you teleported?”
Kyle lived far in the north, and with Yankeller busy at the temple, they only exchanged letters now and then.
Though it had been a long time, they talked as easily as if they’d seen each other yesterday.
“Yan, do you know a tavern called Kuna in the plaza?”
“Yeah, I’ve heard of it. There’s not a man in the capital who hasn’t tried their ice kuna.”
“You too?”
Yankeller chuckled and shook his head.
“Kyle, don’t you know priests aren’t allowed to drink?”
“I know. But don’t all the others drink anyway?”
“Well… yeah, they all do.”
Yankeller gave a wry smile.
“So why do you ask?”
“I saw one of your pewter mugs there.”
“My pewter mug?”
“Yeah. That magic mug you made that turns water cold.”
Yankeller—only son of the High Priest of the Barthman Empire.
His fate had been sealed from birth: to inherit his father’s role.
But he’d always been more interested in magic than the temple.
Had his father allowed it—or even just not opposed it so strongly—he might already have been the empire’s greatest mage.
He had a deep understanding of magic, immense mana control, and relentless focus.
He believed that if he worked hard enough and showed his skill, one day his father would understand.
“Yan, mages are just tinkerers. You’re meant to follow in my footsteps and become High Priest. Why would you want to be some pointless magician making trinkets…”
So Yankeller stopped speaking of it and practiced magic tools in secret, sneaking books and training alone.
His strongest supporter during those days was Kyle.
Kyle would borrow magic books from the imperial library for him and lend him a quiet space for training.
The pewter mug had been one of his early projects, made during a time when he was getting into crafting magical items.
“Oh… I remember. You saw that?”
“Yeah. They were serving kuna in your mug at that tavern.”
“What?”
He hadn’t paid much attention to it after making it, but to think people were drinking kuna from it?
“So that’s why Pan asked if I could make more pewter mugs…”
“He did?”
“Yeah. He said someone was looking to buy them in bulk and asked if I could make more.”
“And? Did you?”
“No. I was focused on other magic at the time. Plus, it was a big order, and you had already left the capital, so storage and production would’ve been tough. I declined.”
Kyle nodded deeply.
“Still… I can’t believe they’re drinking kuna from a magic mug. But how did you know it was mine?”
“There was a symbol.”
“Symbol?”
“You always carve weird little marks into your magic tools. I saw it on the bottom of the mug after finishing the drink.”
“Oh… that mark.”
“So, Yan, what does it mean? I’ve stared at it and still can’t tell.”
Yankeller just gave a faint smile instead of answering.
“Fine, fine. I won’t ask.”
He’d asked many times before and always got the same sheepish smile.
‘Drinking the famous kuna from a mug I made…’
He’d never tasted it himself, but somehow, he felt very proud.
Yankeller swallowed without realizing, curious about how kuna tasted in his mug.
Kyle smirked at the sight.
“Let’s go together next time. You have to try it at least once from your own mug.”
“I can’t. I’m a priest…”
“Oh, give it a rest. You have no real intention of becoming High Priest, and yet you keep clinging to the title…”
Yankeller let out a quiet laugh.
“You’ve got a point.”
Though they were chatting casually, Kyle leaned in and lowered his voice.
“Yan, have you heard of the fortune-teller at that tavern?”
“Yeah, they’re pretty famous.”
“Ever thought about getting a reading?”
“What? You want a priest to get his fortune told?”
“There you go again with the priest talk. If you’re going to keep hiding behind that excuse, you might as well give up on studying magic.”
Yankeller scratched his head, embarrassed.
“Haha, it’s just a habit now.”
“They say the fortune-teller has insane foresight. And the tools they use are nothing like other fortune-tellers’.”
