SWY 51

The area near the barrier entrance was silent. Sharhan checked the inside of the carriage and listened closely for any sign of movement, but there was no sign of people. The moving corpses were nowhere to be seen either.

“So quiet. This city never turned off its lights, day or night.”

As befitting its name as a city of pleasure, Verden had been filled with every form of entertainment. Gambling, drinking, auctions, taverns, underground fighting rings, and countless sex workers. Where there were people, merchants and mercenaries would flock like bees to flowers.

And since nightlife only grew more debauched as the night deepened, Verden had earned the name “the city without night.” But now, this city that had always been buzzing was eerily silent.

Derry, clearly surprised by the sight so different from Luhas, kept glancing around. Even though they had already passed through several smaller towns, it all still seemed new and strange to this bumpkin from Luhas.

‘If he’d seen this before the world went to hell, his head would’ve spun.’

Sharhan laughed inwardly, but outwardly he kept a stern expression as he tapped Derry’s dazed shoulder to warn him.

“Focus and stay alert. You never know what might jump out.”

“I will.”

Only then did Derry’s dazed eyes return to normal. The group slowly moved forward. The city was oppressively quiet, and the only sound was the cautious steps of the three.

Crunch.

Derry froze, having stepped on something he hadn’t seen on the ground. Sharhan and Lestel quickly swept their eyes around, remaining tense. They listened for a while, but fortunately, no other sound followed.

“Sorry.”

Derry let out a breath he’d been holding and apologized.

“It’s fine.”

He’d stepped on a doll. Once someone’s precious companion, it now lay dirty and stained with blood. Without lingering in sentiment, the three continued moving. The sun was setting, and they needed to find a place to spend the night quickly.

“How about there?”

Following Lestel’s gesture, they spotted a shabby-looking tavern. It had served cheap drinks to travelers passing through Verden.

Sharhan had visited it on his first day in the city, drinking cheap black beer and laughing with the Red Wolves. He remembered the owner was a middle-aged man missing one leg, who’d said he’d lost it during his mercenary days.

“Let’s check it out.”

The three approached the wide-open entrance of the tavern. Sharhan took a deep breath, then cautiously tapped the wall beside the door with the flat of his blade, ready to strike if a corpse came rushing out.

Lestel stood guard outside with Derry between them, keeping watch for any signs of movement.

“…Let’s go in.”

Even after knocking again, there was no reaction from inside, so Sharhan gave a nod and stepped in first. The interior showed clear signs of people fleeing in a hurry while drinking.

Tables and chairs were scattered about, and half-finished drinks and side dishes still sat on the bar. The food had rotted away and was now unrecognizable, reeking unpleasantly.

Sharhan grimaced at the stench and carried a plate outside before locking the door. There seemed to be a back door too, which he checked, locked. He thoroughly inspected the counter as well.

Only then did beads of sweat form on his relieved brow. Securing a place to spend the night and making sure it was safe was always tense work.

Not that daytime was any less stressful. Moving corpses lurked everywhere, and if you let your guard down even for a moment, they would leap out, gnashing their teeth and ready to tear into living flesh.

“Pretty cozy, actually.”

Lestel looked around the first floor and gave an approving nod. Despite the thick dust and the bloodstains on the walls and floor, if they pushed the furniture aside, it would do for the night.

“I’ve been here before. The owner was living upstairs. He might still be here, so I’ll go check. If it’s empty, we’ll stay up there.”

If there had been moving corpses inside, they would’ve rushed out at the knocking, but if there were survivors, they might be hiding, listening carefully for intruders.

“I’ll go. You rest. You don’t look so good.”

Though Sharhan had recovered before leaving their old shelter, his strength still hadn’t fully returned. Constant tension, poor food, and uncomfortable sleep wore on him fast.

But it wasn’t just Sharhan. Lestel also had dark circles under his eyes.

“I’ll go, so you rest.”

“Then let’s both go.”

“Just rest, will you?”

“Honey, have I ever let you go alone?”

Every time they scouted a place to spend the night like today, Lestel always tagged along. Telling him to rest was pointless.

Eventually, Sharhan sighed in surrender and took the lead. As he climbed the stairs, sword in hand, Lestel followed closely, and the strong smell of sweat clung to him.

Even in the biting air, the stress of facing who-knew-what at any moment made them sweat. They washed whenever they found enough water, but in a world where even drinking water was scarce, that wasn’t often.

Thanks to Derry, they didn’t have to worry about drinking water, but bathing daily was impossible. So body odor was inevitable.

Even after years of living among rough mercenaries who hated bathing, Sharhan had never gotten used to the stink of sweat. He used to pinch his nose and kick their butts, yelling at them to wash, only to be mocked with, “You’re a flower, you should always smell nice. We don’t have to.”

He’d throw a fit and end up sleeping far away from everyone. But strangely, Lestel’s scent wasn’t all that unpleasant.

‘Now that I think about it, even when his bare skin touches mine, it doesn’t really bother me.’

When Parel groped his ass, he’d cursed without thinking. Not just cursing, he’d vowed countless times to cut off the assassin’s hands and cock, to kill him in the most humiliating way possible. Just remembering it made him feel filthy.

‘That filthy bastard. He must’ve gone to the capital, right? Our destinations are different, so I probably won’t run into him… but if I do…’

While his mind simmered with murderous thoughts.

“What are you thinking about? Focus. If you get hurt because your head’s elsewhere, I’ll kill you myself, honey.”

Lestel, noticing Sharhan was distracted, whispered while nibbling on his earlobe. Sharhan quickly covered his ear.

“You psycho, use your words.”

“You snap out of it faster when I bite.”

“Talking works just fine, alright?”

“No. I think your body learns faster than your brain. From now on, if you’re careless or get hurt, I’ll teach you a lesson with your body.”

“Fuck’s sake. If you get hurt, it’s my body that hurts, and if I get hurt, I still have to pay for it with my own body?”

“Yes. You got it. You’re not that dumb after all, my honey.”

“You’re funny. You think my body’s yours? It’s mine, so you take care of yours.”

Sharhan gave a stifled sneer and climbed another step. Just two more and they’d reach the second floor. The door was closed, but it pushed open when he tested it. Not locked.

Sharhan slowly opened it. Stale air, trapped for too long, hit their faces. He listened closely. No sounds.

But they couldn’t let their guard down. Cautiously, the two stepped inside. The first thing they saw were two closed doors in the living room, likely leading to a bedroom and bathroom. The furnishings and decorations looked expensive, as expected from someone who made good money as a mercenary.

They stood in the center of the living room and exchanged a look. When Sharhan pointed left, Lestel nodded and turned right. He mouthed silently, Be careful.

Sharhan gripped his sword tightly and crept toward the left door, which he opened slowly. It was a bedroom. The furniture was in disarray, a messy bed and wardrobe. Seeing the disturbed blankets, Sharhan tensed.

‘Someone must’ve been here until recently.’

There was no warmth left, but the telltale imprint of a human body remained. Someone had used this bed just days ago. After checking under the bed, Sharhan turned toward the wardrobe, big enough to hide a grown adult.

“That one’s the bathroom. It’s clear.”

Lestel had quickly checked and returned to whisper beside Sharhan.

“Only the wardrobe left.”

Just as Sharhan pointed it out and silently moved toward it, keeping his presence low, the wardrobe door suddenly burst open. A man sprang out, sword in hand, ready to strike.

But before he could reach Sharhan, Lestel was faster. The moment the sword-wielding man lunged out, Lestel’s axe met his neck.

“Abel?”