Only a handful of guests and members of the Bladewind mercenary group remained—those who hadn’t yet drunk themselves under the table.
From a distance, Robin spotted Kyle and Shinya approaching and immediately waved them over with enthusiasm.
“Hey! It’s the innkeeper—and Big Bear’s back!”
The nickname clearly irked Shinya. He raised a hand to block Robin’s tipsy attempt at a hug. “I’m not ‘Big Bear.’ My name is Shinya.”
The once-agile swordsman was now thoroughly drunk. Just a few hours ago, he had been parrying ghoul claws with his blade; now, with the gentlest push from Shinya, he toppled sideways like a table missing a leg.
Kyle rushed to catch him and managed to get Robin seated safely on a nearby chair.
No sooner had Shinya brushed Robin off than another hand appeared, offering him a mug of beer.
“To you, brave warrior of the Bloodwolves,” said Austin, his face already flushed from drink. Seeing Shinya return, he couldn’t resist raising a toast—two cups in hand.
Shinya took the mug, and for the first time, gave the Elementalist a proper look.
Austin didn’t appear to be older than forty. The corners of his eyes drooped slightly, but the natural curve of his lips often lifted into a smile. Compared to Shinya, he was noticeably shorter, and the blue robes he wore made his frame seem even smaller.
And yet, in Shinya’s eyes, he looked tall.
“To you, descendant of Sylvennia,” Shinya said, lifting his cup in return—and drained it in one go.
As an Elementalist, Austin had been praised many times before—
but this was the first time an outsider had ever called him a “descendant of Sylvennia.”
The Sylvennia Empire—once the mightiest power in the human world seven centuries ago—had, for a time, become synonymous with humanity itself.
But now, seven hundred years after its fall, most humans had long forgotten its former glory.
And yet, the werewolves from across the Black Jade Sea remembered.
Austin felt a mix of pride and helplessness.
He smiled—and downed the drink in one swift gulp.
“Big Bear!” a lively voice called from the side. Cecile waved enthusiastically. “Come drink some more!”
Shinya frowned and walked over. “I told you, I’m not ‘Big Bear.’”
Kyle leaned in beside Shinya and said, “There’s not much good food left out here. I’ll go fix you something. You hang out with them for a bit—come find me in the kitchen when you’re ready.”
Shinya nodded.
Kyle glanced one last time at Shinya, now sitting among the mercenaries, and couldn’t help but smile.
So he can be social after all.
After exchanging a few quick words with the others, the innkeeper made his way to the kitchen alone.
- ··
The Sword Sheath Inn—the first place Shinya and his father Aoshi called home after fleeing from Togekaze to the human world, to the continent of Asate.
Shinya had spent many seasons here, through countless springs, summers, autumns, and winters.
The original owner of the inn was named Tsuruga, an exiled werewolf and a close friend of Aoshi—someone from the same generation.
But rather than “Tsuruga,” he preferred to be called “Atsu.”
Shinya knew that werewolves who were exiled from the Kingdom of Togekaze were stripped of half their names. That was the law.
But not once had Shinya thought of Tsuruga as a criminal.
He had never asked why the man was banished.
To Shinya, Tsuruga was family—just like his father. And Kyle was like a real brother to him.
Even if they shared no blood.
Shinya walked through the ruined lobby of the inn, making his way toward the kitchen with the ease of someone who knew every step by heart.
The layout of the inn hadn’t changed much over the years, except for an expansion of the guest rooms in the northeast wing and some renovations to the large bathhouse on the west side.
Yet, returning after fifteen years, Shinya felt an odd sense of dissonance.
The beams seemed lower, the stairs narrower—the entire world felt as if it had somehow shrunk.
As a boy, the Sword Sheath Inn had been the largest building he had ever seen.
But now, to his adult eyes, it looked like a miniature toy house.
Compared to the Moonthrone Palace built into the mountains of Togekaze, this humble inn—crafted by human hands—truly did feel like nothing more than a toy.
Drawn by the smell of food, Shinya made his way to a cozy little dining room—the same one where he used to eat as a boy.
Kyle was already there, seemingly having waited for a while.
When he saw Shinya enter, the innkeeper raised the glass in his hand in greeting.
“Took you long enough. I thought they might’ve drunk you under the table,” he teased, then got up and brought out a golden roasted chicken that had been kept warm in the oven.
“How could I possibly get drunk?” Shinya replied as he took a seat at the table.
That strange feeling returned again.
Did this table actually shrink…?
“Your favorite,” Kyle said, setting the whole roasted chicken in front of Shinya. He then poured him a full glass of wine. “And paired with Glimmerflow, a specialty wine from Redmist Valley in the south. Not for sale—only served to VIPs.”
Shinya took the glass without hesitation and downed it in one go.
This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.
“Tastes weak. Not much different from the stuff outside.”
Kyle’s face twitched with annoyance. He snatched the glass back and refused to pour another.
“So the Queen of Bloodwolves gave you a royal palate, huh? Now the ‘humble meals from your old home’ just don’t cut it anymore?”
“royal palate?” Shinya frowned, then got up and poured himself a glass of water, not even sparing Kyle a glance. “Did you hit your head or something?”
Kyle didn’t reply. He just smiled, poured himself another drink, and sipped in silence.
Shinya sat back down, hesitated for a moment, and finally asked, “Tsuruga and Kalia—”
Before he could finish, Kyle gently cut him off.
“No rush,” he said with an understanding smile. “We’ve got plenty of time.”
Shinya paused mid-bite, then looked up. “They…?”
“Old folks, you know how it is. They turn in early,” Kyle said with a casual wave of his hand. “We’ll talk about it tomorrow.”
Shinya stopped chewing. That was when he finally understood what Kyle meant.
“Kyle…”
Kyle lowered his eyes, staring into the liquid swirling in his cup.
“Let’s not talk about that. Eat your chicken. Tomorrow, okay?”
Shinya didn’t press further. He already knew the answer.
It wasn’t until Shinya had finished his meal that Kyle finally set his drink down and asked,
“So… who is that girl, really? What’s her connection to Irene? I think it’s time you gave me some answers.”
Shinya didn’t respond right away. Instead, he tossed a different question back at Kyle.
“You made this roast chicken?”
Kyle nodded.
“Still as terrible as ever,” Shinya said flatly.
Kyle slammed the table in frustration, making the utensils rattle.
“If it’s so terrible, why’d you clean the whole damn plate?!”
Shinya glanced at the bones stripped bare on his plate and replied with a blank face,
“I was hungry.”
Kyle rubbed his forehead with a sigh. “You… unbelievable. Now stop dodging my question—who is that girl?”
“Irene—” Shinya looked him in the eye, speaking seriously.
“No, that’s not right. Her time was… reset. She went back to being a baby and grew up all over again…” He paused, unsure how to explain it clearly.
“She goes by Nicole now.”
Kyle refilled Shinya’s glass and set it in front of him again.
“Take your time—start from the beginning.”
And so, Kyle finally learned a few details about what had really happened on the day of the disaster.
It turned out that when Shinya had returned to Acorn Town, Irene had already turned into a baby—for reasons still unknown.
As for the corpse of the unfamiliar woman lying in Irene’s bedroom, with a dining knife stabbed into her throat—who she was, and who had killed her—all of it remained a mystery.
Aoshi had stayed behind to cover Shinya’s escape, allowing him to flee the demon-infested town with infant Irene.
On the way, Aoshi was killed by a demon. Though Shinya managed to escape the town with the baby, he couldn’t shake off the ghouls pursuing them.
During their flight, Shinya and Irene both fell from the Selt Cliffs.
By the time he climbed back up to shore, Irene was already gone.
He searched from upstream to downstream, but still couldn’t find Irene.
He thought she had died.
Devastated, he wandered back to Acorn Town—only to arrive in time to witness the priests who had come to the scene, performing purification rites as they burned the victims’ bodies.
His father Aoshi’s remains were among them.
When Shinya reached this part of the story, his voice inevitably wavered.
It was a scar that would never fully heal, and Kyle understood.
So Kyle deliberately steered the conversation away.
“Look on the bright side—she survived. You lost her back then, sure, but now you’ve found her again. That’s got to be the luckiest thing that’s ever happened to you.”
He wasn’t wrong. Irene hadn’t died.
Not only that—she and Shinya had reunited.
Such a twist of fate could only be described as a miracle.
But Shinya couldn’t bring himself to smile.
There were details he chose not to share.
He didn’t tell Kyle how the demon had brutally slaughtered his father.
He didn’t want to relive those horrors.
He was afraid if he did—he’d lose control again.
Seeing Shinya remain silent, Kyle couldn’t help but try to say something.
“So… Irene—no, Nicole… you two are…” He stumbled over his words for a while, then suddenly thought of something crucial.
“…Does she still remember who she used to be?”
“A little,” Shinya replied, staring at the reflection swirling in his cup. The sorrow on his face was hard to hide.
“Just a little. Sometimes, I feel like… she should be Irene, but at the same time, she’s not.”
Kyle nodded slowly. “Different upbringing. Changed who she became.”
“Yeah,” Shinya murmured in agreement.
“Does she remember who you are?”
“She has… vague impressions,” Shinya said softly. “You know, she actually called me Kuro. I think it’s the only word from the wolf-tongue I ever taught her that stuck.”
“And what about everything the two of you shared…?”
“She doesn’t remember any of it. To her, it’s nothing more than scattered fragments from a dream.”
Kyle suddenly understood—of the two of them, it was Shinya who was clinging to the past, unwilling to let go.
Irene, who had grown up all over again, had essentially become a different person.
Shinya’s eyes never left the surface of the wine in his cup.
“That’s why I decided to take her back to the ruins of Acorn Town. I hoped being there might bring something back to her.”
And at last, a faint, weary smile appeared on his face.
“It worked. She remembered who I was.
But we also woke up something… that should’ve stayed buried.”
“The ghouls still lingering there?” Kyle asked.
Shinya lowered his head and nodded.
“History repeated itself, Kyle.” He set his cup down.
“Just like fifteen years ago, I was powerless. I still couldn’t protect her… she nearly died there.”
“Stop blaming yourself. Irene’s safe now, isn’t she? I don’t know what kind of magic you used, but without your help, there’s no way she could’ve made it from Acorn Town to Seagull Town with ghoul venom in her system.”
“It wasn’t magic.” Shinya lifted his glass and finished the remaining half in one swallow.
“I’ve never learned healing spells. I don’t have the talent for life magic.”
He set the cup down again, exhausted, and buried his face in his hands, fingers tangled in his hair.
Leaning on the table, his voice dropped low—faint, tired, touched with a bit of drunken haze.
“I’m a Shapeshifter blessed by a guardian spirit. That gives me a strong resistance to poison…
But when it comes to purging it from someone else—I’m useless.”
“Then how did you…?” Kyle trailed off, sifting through every bit of lore he could recall about the powerful secret arts of Shapeshifters.
And suddenly, it clicked.
There was a legend—Shapeshifters could, through certain forbidden techniques, temporarily share their traits or abilities with others. Among werewolves, only Shapeshifters possessed this kind of power. Of course, such magic always came at a price.
Nicole must’ve survived the venom, making it all the way from Acorn Town to Seagull Town, because Shinya had transferred his own resistance to her.
That’s why afterward, he hadn’t shown the slightest concern about the poison still in her system.
Even without Eddie’s help, Nicole wouldn’t have died.
She would’ve just remained unconscious a little longer—then healed on her own.
Poison couldn’t kill a werewolf—
and it certainly couldn’t kill someone who had inherited a werewolf’s resistance from Shinya.
The real question was: how had he done it?
And more importantly—what had it cost him?
Life Magic of this level—transcending the limits of one’s own body—was never a fair exchange.
For the one who gave, there was always a price to pay.
Kyle didn’t dwell on the details.
He just felt a pang of regret, and a deep sense of unfairness—for Shinya.
But Shinya himself didn’t see anything wrong with what he’d done.
“Years ago, I made a vow at her father’s grave,” he said quietly.
“I swore I’d protect her in his place.”
Kyle couldn’t help but ask, “Whose father? Irene’s… or Nicole’s?”
He looked at Shinya, puzzled. “She probably doesn’t remember a thing about that ‘father’—Let alone some promise you made decades ago. Is a vow no one else remembers really worth all this?”
“She doesn’t have to remember,” Shinya said without hesitation.
“It’s enough that I do.”
Kyle stared at the face across from him—so serious, so unwavering.
And for the first time, he felt a deep sense of respect.
Was this one-sided devotion, this lopsided bond… actually a kind of happiness for Shinya?
“I give up,” Kyle sighed, taking Shinya’s empty glass and filling it again.
“Do whatever the hell you want. Share whatever power you feel like—I’m done trying to stop you.”
Shinya accepted the glass. “It’s not about sharing power.”
Kyle raised an eyebrow. “Huh? Then what is it?”
Shinya ran a finger along the smooth rim of the cup. His expression, as always, was unreadable.
“I used a forbidden Shapeshifter ritual,” he said.
“I exchanged half my blood with hers. As a result, I lost half of my lifespan… and she became a ‘half-blood.’”
Shinya lifted his glass, tilted his head back, and drained it in one go.
Then, with a faint, almost dreamy haze in his eyes, he glanced sideways at Kyle.
A hint of satisfaction curled at the corner of his lips—a rare, almost childlike smile.
He set the glass down and said offhandedly,
“She has half werewolf blood now.”
“…What did you just say?!”