It was no surprise—Rafayel had been leaning his upper body on the reception desk, awkwardly rubbing his backside in a rather foolish-looking posture.
"Ah… I'd like to say I'm fine, but I'm just not used to traveling by carriage. After long hours on the road, this is what happens. I came to the front desk hoping they might have some kind of ointment I could apply to my rear…"
As he said this, he cast a glare toward the reception area.
"…It's really just something you get used to," the guest said with a small laugh. "It took me a while, too."
They exchanged a brief but light-hearted conversation.
"If it hurts too much, would you like me to share something I have?"
"What!? Really!? That's okay!?"
Rafayel eagerly jumped at the kind offer.
"If you apply it to the painful area and sleep through the night, that should be enough."
"Thank you so much. Yes, please!"
"Then, I'll go prepare it. Please wait just a moment."
With those words, the man returned to his room.
