Kyle! Hurry up and take off your hood!" Claire fearfully urged Kyle to
comply.
"...I don't want to." Kyle gave an uncomfortable smile and shook his head at
Claire.
"So you're going to ignore what we say and only answer to Miss Claire. Is that it? Is that's how you're gonna be, huh?"
"How else should I respond to someone who clearly approached me with ill
intent? If there's a correct response, please, do inform me," Kyle asked the man
with a tired affect in his voice.
Getting involved with something like this is nothing but trouble.
Kyle had been raised in the slums and in noble soceity afterwords. In both places power was everything, but he found
that the adventurer's society was rather similar indeed. The way both groups
thought was extremely simplistic. For both of them, being looked down upon
was the equivalent of defeat, because their livelihoods depended on their
strength. They couldn't afford to show any weakness. Even if Kyle apologized
here, there was no guarantee they'd forgive him. They'd simply push their
accusations further, saying something along the lines of "Apologizing means
you admit it was your fault."
"...A correct response? Don't change the topic. Right now I'm askin' ya how
you're gonna make up for this. All ya need to do is apologize." The man whose
hand Kyle slapped away insisted on having things his way. Kyle let out a mocking
huff before moving a slice of meat toward his mouth.
"Do you really wanna learn things the hard way, brat?" The men stood up
from their seats with a loud clatter.
"Hey guys. Shouldn't you teach the kid a lesson?"
"Yeah, he needs to be knocked off his high horse a little. Especially bein' a
newbie and all. Teach him the rules of livin' as an adventurer around here."
The men sitting nearby tried to rile up the men bothering Kyle even more.
Claire tried to speak up against them, but was silenced with a single sharp glare.
She closed her mouth out of fear.
"Stand up," the man whose hand was slapped away earlier said, grabbing Kyleby the collar with his left hand.
The man was nearly two meters tall, so at twelve years old and at 160cm tall,
Kyle's feet easily dangled in the air. However, the act of grabbing someone's
collar in a fight was usually nothing more than an act of intimidation; it
occupied your hands and left you defenseless to counterattacks.
Haha, typical Zen and his brute strength. Go and get 'im, man!" The
spectators urged on the man holding Kyle up.
This one's Zen, and the other one is Benstokes... Not that it matters. Kyle cast
his cold gaze over the two men once.
"Tch, you're one impudent brat." The man named Zen clicked his tongue,
muttering with breath stinking of alcohol.
"You reek. Could you stop talking... No, stop breathing at me?" Kyle asked
unhappily, twisting his face.
"You asked for it now."
Zen made a fist with his right hand and swung it at Kyle's face. But Kyle moved
his hands easily, and in the next moment —
"O-Oww!" Gene screamed. Kylenimbly grabbed Zen's left hand and twisted
it, allowing him to push Zen's doubled-over body down to the ground.
Zen grimaced from where he was pressed down; he had yet to process what
had happened. The same went for everyone else watching them.
"H-Hey! What did you do to Zen?!" Benstokes demanded, flabbergasted.
"It's self-defense, obviously," Kyle replied bluntly.
But that wasn't what Benstokes wanted to know. He was talking about how Kyle had
pinned Zen so easily, but Kyle wasn't about to disclose that.
"How long are you going to keep that up for?! Let go of Zen already!" Benstokes clenched his fists impatiently and tried to punch Kyle.
Kyle let go of Zen and swiftly dodged the incoming fists. They were just the
sweeping punches of a wobbly drunk, and Kyle had no trouble reading their path
and avoiding them.
"Stop dodging me!"
Benstokes panted for breath, but no matter how many times he swung his punches,
they never made contact with Kyle. But he persistently kept swinging, so Kyle
tripped him. Benstokes went flying through the air.
"No can do," Kyle said with a short laugh at his fallen figure after his pathetic tumble.
"Y-You..." Benstokes's anger caused him to jump right back up on his feet, but he
suddenly froze when he saw who was standing behind Kyle. It was Zen, and he
had drawn the hidden blade at his waist.
Meanwhile, Kyle had noticed Zen's presence long ago.
"If you use that, I won't hold back either." He glanced behind himself,
cautiously, and offered that single warning.
"Shut up! As if I could let you walk all over me any more than this... I won't
forgive you even if you beg, you damn brat!" Zen yelled furiously. Suddenly —
"No spilt blood on my floors!"
A woman who seemed to be the proprietress of the inn stepped out of the
kitchen, led by a terrified Claire. She looked to be in her late twenties; this was
most likely Claire's mother.
Normally, the city guards wouldn't take action against a brawl between two
drunks at an inn, but even they couldn't overlook fights that resulted in dead
bodies.
"Heeey, sweetie. Sorry, but we gotta defend our honor 'n all that.
We can't jus' step down so easily," Zen said, staring at Kyle with a crazed look
in his eye. It wasn't that he was reluctant to back down; he clearly had no
intention of backing off at all.
The fact he was too drunk to calmly process his thoughts played a large part
in his decision-making.
Kyle stared back at Zen, who was moments away from lunging at him. If you
don't want to lose face by picking drunken fights, then you should live more
modestly, he thought to himself in exasperation.
But Kyle had no intention of voicing those thoughts out loud and fanning the
flames. He had enough of these two troublesome drunks before them, and just
wanted to go back to his room and rest. To him, Zen and Benstokes weren't
opponents worth fighting, so he didn't want to get any more involved in their
troubles than he already was.