The market was alive with colors and chatter. But the mont Hazuki stepped in with seven kids trailing behind him and Kisha nervously walking beside, the atmosphere shifted. Whispers drifted in waves.
"Hey... that’s the black-haired human, right?"
"The one who wiped out the Silveroad party in the arena?"
"Yeah, I saw it! He didn’t even draw his sword until the end!"
"And those kicks... brutal! That guy’s no joke."
"But... who are those kids with him?"
"Probably his kids?"
"No way! That woman’s too young to be the mother of all those kids."
"Maybe she’s his wife?"
"She looks like she’s barely an adult! Isn’t that weird?"
"Well... he’s human. You know how they are."
"And did you see how he talks to the air? Still creeps out."
"So say he talks to spirits."
"That would explain the pink glow during the duel. So kind of spirit pact, maybe?"
"Maybe he’s a wandering noble in disguise?"
"Shhh! Don’t talk too loud—what if he hears you?!"
"No kidding! He scared off so debt collectors just by grinning!"
Hazuki could feel the weight of their eyes but kept walking, pretending not to hear. The kids, however, were huddled closer, heads low. Kisha, red-faced and sweating nervously, tried to avoid eye contact with everyone.
Ridan, floating above, whispered with a grin,
"Oho~ you’re becoming famous, Daddyzuki~."
"Shut up."
Hazuki stopped by the rchant shop.
"This sack of flour... and that sack... And this dried at... And oh! That vegetable seed too... And that one too," Hazuki ordered without pause, pointing quickly around the stall.
"Here, the money."
"Ah! Thank you, mister human!" The beastkin vendor quickly bowed at the generous purchase.
Hazuki hefted the remaining pouch of silver from his belt and handed it over.
"I want this sent to this place," he added, fishing out the hand-drawn map from earlier and tapping a rough ’X’ marking the orphanage.
"Oh? The rundown orphanage?" the vendor asked, voice softening.
"Yes. You can say that," Hazuki replied flatly, turning away before the vendor could say more.
"Anyway," Hazuki muttered to himself, scanning the market,
"where’s the woodworker around here?"
"Huh?" The vendor blinked.
"I do know soone... but why do you need a woodworker?"
Hazuki adjusted the strap on his leather side bag.
"I want to deal with them to repair the orphanage today."
The vendor paused for a second, then nodded respectfully.
"Head west past the well, take the first left. You’ll see a shop with a hanging saw sign—that’s Old Buran. He’s the best in Macia for this kind of work."
"Got it. Thanks."
As Hazuki walked away, Ridan floated silently above his shoulder, unusually quiet. But in his mind, he grinned.
"Fixing roofs now, huh? This guy..."
"You, lady!" Hazuki called out, his voice cutting through the market noise.
"Y-yes?" Kisha flinched, straightening up.
"Go back to the house. Make sure these kids eat. Wait for the items I ordered from the rchant and check every delivery. Beds, supplies, food—everything. I want them arranged properly before sunset."
Kisha nodded quickly.
"I-I understand."
"And if anything’s missing, don’t wait. Co find or send one of the brats."
"Yes, I will," she said , then turned to gather the children.
Hazuki watched them move before glancing toward the western street, where the saw sign of the woodworker’s shop barely peeked over the rooftops.
"Let’s go over there, Ridan."
"Heh~ I always follow you anywhere. Like I can leave you alone," Ridan floated lazily above his head.
"Yeah yeah, whatever."
As Hazuki approached the workshop, the scent of sawdust thickened in the air. He spotted an old beastkin man—tall, with a sturdy fra and flecks of grey fur in his beard—inspecting planks of timber stacked beside the shop.
"Yo!" Hazuki called out casually.
"They told to co find you when it cos to house repairs."
The old beastkin turned, narrowing one eye.
"Depends who ’they’ are. You buying wood, or needing work done?"
"I need a house fixed up. It’s an orphanage outside the city wall. Can you do it?" Hazuki asked.
The old beastkin man scratched his chin.
"Yeah, I can. Depends if you’ve got the coin."
"How much are we talking?"
"I’ll need to see it first before I give an exact quote," the woodworker said, adjusting his tool belt.
"But I’ll tell you this—it won’t be cheap."
"Give an estimate."
"Sowhere around 1 gold. Could go up to 5, depending on the damage and what you want done."
Hazuki nodded without hesitation.
"Do you want a deposit right now?" Hazuki asked.
"Depends," the old woodworker replied with a shrug.
"So clients vanish after making promises."
Hazuki smirked.
"Alright then. You start the work first. I’ll pay once it’s done."
The beastkin narrowed his eyes.
"Oho? Got any guarantee to back that up?"
Without a word, Hazuki pulled out his adventurer card and handed it over.
The woodworker tapped the glowing orb on his workbench, scanning the card.
His eyes widened briefly at the balance shown.
"More than twenty gold, huh? Very well. That’s more than enough."
He turned around, pulled out a clipboard, and handed Hazuki a simple parchnt.
"Sign here."
"You better not scam , old man," Hazuki warned, narrowing his eyes.
The woodworker chuckled, not offended in the slightest.
"Hah! They call Old Buron for a reason. I’ve been the go-to fixer for two decades. Reasonable price, solid work. If I scam you, the guild will blacklist before sunset."
He leaned forward, tapping the bench with a thick finger.
"Besides... why the hell would I scam the black-haired lunatic who soloed the Silveroad party with nothing but his fists?"
Hazuki blinked.
Old Buron grinned, showing a missing tooth.
"Word travels fast, son. Now, you want it done right, or do you want it cheap?"
Hazuki smirked.
"I want it done fast. And right."
"Then you ca to the right bastard. I’ll get my boys to the orphanage within the hour."
Hazuki watched Old Buron shuffle off to gather his tools, the man barking orders to a younger helper nearby.
He stood there, unmoving, arms crossed.
He didn’t know why he was doing all this.
It’s not like those kids were his responsibility.
They didn’t know him.
He didn’t owe them.
No one asked him to step in.
But still...
He rembered the cold nights.
The echo of an empty stomach.
The way hand--down clothes never fit right.
How a thin blanket couldn’t stop the wind from creeping through the cracks.
He rembered lying on a hard bed, pretending not to hear the other kids cry.
And when he looked at their faces—their trembling hands, the way they looked at the food like it might vanish—he saw it again.
His past. His own shadow.
Hazuki clicked his tongue and rubbed the back of his neck.
He turned away before anyone could see the look in his eyes.
( End Of Chapter )
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