Chapter 67: The Harmonica

......

Salser stepped out of the tavern with Jeanne trailing behind, her face showing clear dissatisfaction for not getting a third drink. Jeanne 's cheeks were flushed with a rather alluring redness, and her tender, red lips, which she had licked to a glistening shine, were vibrant with color. She appeared to be quite drunk, yet her speech was remarkably clear while her gait was perfectly normal. However, her words and actions had become significantly more aggressive—though Salser thought this woman's behavior was always rather rough.

In Salser's own words, if she was a wild boar with three tusks before drinking, then after drinking, she becomes a wild boar with four tusks.

Of course, he would never say this to her face.

Salser looked up, gazing at the fading daylight above the street. The sun was beginning to set, and the bustling crowd was thinning out, except for the mischievous children who continued to chase each other on the roadside as they always did. They had spent too much time searching for the nun in the city, only to find out that she was at the mage school mentioned by the little girl earlier. It was indeed ironic.

"What do we do now?"

Jeanne licked the corner of her mouth, her expression still showing a hint of unfulfilled desire, "Just—"

"Don't mention the wine again, how do you even function as an inquisitor?" Salser interrupted her directly.

"It's something that gives me a sense of fulfillment, got a beef with that?" Jeanne spoke to herself, standing beside the Dark wizard. She looked up at him for a moment, "What's wrong, what kind of expression is that?"

"......Nothing."

Salser shook his head.

After observing Jeanne's drunken demeanor for a while, Salser realized that it had been a long time since he had been with a woman. In his view, the behavior of the guard at the city gate and the customers at the tavern was normal, after all—people with shorter lifespans are often easily swayed by their lower half. Who could tell at a first meeting that this woman, who stirred one's heart, was a zealous Inquisitor of the Holy Cross Church? That was a profession that could make ordinary people extinguish all carnal desires, and one that could make the extraordinary perish by her hand. 

If it weren't for knowing that this woman in front of him was not to be trifled with...

"Hmph..." Jeanne withdrew her gaze, "I'll grill you about the wine later. For now, let's just find an inn to stay at. We won't make it to Francis before nightfall, and after over ten days of traveling, I'm beat. Most importantly—I'm done with sleeping in the damn bushes for a bit."

"Our funds won't last long here," Salser informed her, "The original plan was to stay at the church."

"Just grab a spot to crash for now," Jeanne impatiently waved her hand, "I'm desperate for a bath. We can discuss the details once we're settled in our room at the inn."

"Are you a pampered noble lady or a corpse-burning madwoman? Do you have any idea how expensive inns with private bathrooms are?"

"Shut up, I'm neither, and right now, I'm your boss."

......

Evening.

Even though it was early summer, the city of Cast was located in the frozen tundra, so snowflakes still fell from the sky tonight. However, before the snow could cover the ground, it melted away in the pervasive natural gas heating that filled the city.

For centuries, the city of Cast had never completely severed the supply of natural gas. Although flames had burned through many pipelines, causing several famous explosion incidents where firelight soared nearly a hundred meters into the sky, the workers continued their work. They moved silently like ghosts beneath the city, participating in construction and maintenance, using their strength to harness and tame the invisible gas dragons.

The natural gas here, like in Darujhistan, originated from caves beneath the city and was utilized through extensive networks of pipelines equipped with numerous valves. It was not only used for heating but also powered various industries within the city. You could see that almost every house had an outlet for natural gas delivery. It was difficult to trace when these natural gas reserves were discovered, but the fact that Cast City could establish itself as an important trade hub on this frigid tundra was largely due to this resource.

The silence of the night enveloped the land like the falling snow, while Salser now sat on a deck chair on the balcony, which was on the third floor of the inn—a luxurious double room with a private bathroom, very expensive.

Behind him was the wooden door connecting the balcony to the interior of the room, along with the whitewashed partition wall. Inside the room, a stove was lit, its dim firelight illuminating the mosaic-tiled door of the stove, and Viola, who had already fallen asleep. The ceiling lamp was an arc light from Lether, and the walls were covered with leather wallpaper embossed with gold patterns. The high-backed armchair was made of pine wood, and two soft beds were placed at opposite ends of the room—one for Jeanne and the little girl to sleep in, and the other for him.

The stars staggered across the dark night sky, like unfallen snow, and the night breeze was so gentle, it felt like the soft paws of a fluffy cat brushing against the cheek. He could hear the sound of water splashing—Jeanne was taking a bath—but it didn't really concern him.

This place was quite nice. To be honest, he wouldn't mind living here for the rest of his life, of course, with the condition of finding a wife who wasn't as prone to going crazy as Jeanne—someone like Astolfo would be great, if he weren't a man.

But upon further thought, being a man didn't really matter either. Salser believed that when a person was as beautiful as Astolfo, gender became irrelevant. However, Astolfo himself was a traveler, which didn't quite align with his preferences. Salser had always been without grand ambitions; he simply enjoyed studying a bit of magic. His ideal life was to retire in a high-rise building in a bustling city and live out his days in peace.

Unfortunately, the magic he was interested in was far from normal, often leading to incidents such as mass casualties, rampaging monsters, regional mental breakdowns among sentient beings, and toxic gas leaks. Therefore, under normal circumstances, his wish was completely unattainable.

Salser took out a silver-white harmonica from his trouser pocket—purchased just today from a street shop—and, while swinging his legs clad in slippers, placed it to his lips.

......

The prelude was a serene melody, as if it came from afar. The melodious music was very soft and unassuming, reminiscent of the kind of folk songs that might be passed down in a small rural fishing village, devoid of the complexity or intensity of noble’s compositions. It was simply a low, lullaby-like tune.

Jeanne lay stretched out in the bathtub filled with water, momentarily silent.

The notes fell one by one onto the mosaic floor with its gentle water flow, onto the white porcelain bathtub, and onto her bare arms. She listened, gradually feeling a sense of disorientation. In her daze, she imagined a silver thread hanging from the sky, at the end of which was a small straw cradle swinging high above the ground and far from the sky. A young version of herself lay in the cradle. The fresh breeze that originated from the fields caressed her entire body, and the farm under the moonlight seemed both near and far. The sheep from her old hometown quietly walked on the ground, gazing at her as they did when she used to herd them.

After much effort, she managed to recognize the elderly woman, who was now somewhat aged, with her cheek resting on her hand. Her head, which had been lowered for a long time due to an injury from a bug while she was with her in the past, remained still as she leaned against the wall. She looked at Jeanne, just as she would have when Jeanne was a child.

......

When Salser finished playing, he casually tucked the harmonica back into his pocket, yawned, and then chuckled to himself.

After a while, the door behind him creaked open. Jeanne, with her slender legs clad in slippers, walked over, swaying slightly.

"You..."

"What's wrong?" Salser asked lazily, leaning back in the deck chair and counting the stars in the sky.

"What was that just now?"

"Back when we were in the campaign against Gacoti, I learned it from a fisherman in a small fishing village by the river mouth," Salser explained. "We always need some form of entertainment, don't we? I've been playing it for decades, it's as natural as eating a meal."

"......"

"So you've finally finished your bath, I see. I was beginning to think you'd drowned in there," Salser continued on his own, "Now, shall we discuss what we need to do next?"

Jeanne remained silent.

Salser looked up and glanced at the woman in a bathrobe standing beside him, her eyes like the shallow moonlit reflections in a lake, seemingly devoid of emotion, watching him. "...Why are you staring at me?"

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