They didn't run into any wish-granting tavern, of course.
Weighing his coin pouch, Shane tugged Noel and Erza along and ducked into a busy-looking tavern.
Heat steamed through the room; under bright chandeliers, tables were packed with drinkers. The scent of ale mingled with the roar of voices.
"This way, you three…" A server hurried over, then balked when he saw them. His line pivoted mid-sentence. "Er—sorry, but we don't serve alcohol to minors."
Shane's eyes were already glued to the frothy-crowned amber in the next booth. He licked his lips—he'd never tasted this world's booze.
"Really can't?" He put on his most innocent-kid face and pleaded.
The server looked helpless—clearly used to this routine.
The weaponized cuteness didn't work at all; if anything, it made Erza inch away, mortified to be seen with him.
Sometimes this guy… leaves you speechless.
"Tch. So many rules." After a brief stalemate, Shane gave up with a sulk. "Fine. Three glasses of your specialty juice."
They took a corner table. Sweet juice went down; with the din around them, the tightness in Noel's shoulders finally eased.
Shane started trading road stories, Erza chimed in now and then with sharp—but often off-topic—remarks, and the air loosened.
Just as Noel managed to forget his troubles, clattering dishes and a woman's sharp rebuke erupted at the next table.
"Get your filthy hands off me! Beat it!"
A red-haired drunk was pawing at a woman, slurring nonsense.
The room's noise dipped; eyes swung over.
Curious, Shane craned his neck. He had just stood when a burly bartender strode over with a professional apology. "Kids shouldn't gawk—head on home. Just a drunk making a scene."
Ah yes—awkward age for this sort of place. Shane shrugged. With a brawl brewing, he'd lost interest anyway. He waved Erza and Noel up.
They'd barely been "escorted" out when a heavy bang shook the tavern behind them, followed by an eruption of shouts.
Shane rubbed his hands together. He'd been dreaming of a hot spring since yesterday; the night air cooled his face and scrubbed away thoughts of drunks.
He didn't even bother rubbernecking. "Forget it. Hot springs—let's go relax," he said, tugging at the two still peeking back.
Noel shook his head, his eyes settling again. "You go on, Shane-san. I want to check those rejects… Can't just haul them back. I'll find a way."
Shane studied him a moment—he looked steady. "All right. We'll meet at the inn after."
"Mm!" Noel nodded hard.
Going by a recommendation they'd overheard, Shane and Erza found a well-reviewed private bath nearby.
Mist curled, washing away the night's chill; a faint sulfur hung in the air.
Shane sank into the warm pool with a long sigh, every pore opening. The day's fatigue seemed to lift with the steam.
"Now this is life."
He'd barely said it when Erza's aggrieved voice floated from the women's side. "They had mixed baths—why separate? I wanted you to scrub my back."
Shane had no desire to engage with someone who lacked the most basic biology class. He let her prattle, covered his ears, and savored the rare calm.
By the time they came out flushed and loose-limbed, it was deep night. The streets were sparse, pools of lamplight blurring on the stones.
"Why didn't you answer me?" Erza was still hung up on the mixed-bath idea.
"Good soundproofing. Didn't hear," Shane lied without blinking, already planning a future lecture on anatomy.
Erza tugged his sleeve and pointed toward a dim corner ahead.
A well-dressed figure, out of place in the sleepy street, slipped by at a quick pace.
Shane's eyes narrowed. He recognized him at once.
"The guild steward?" His brow creased. "Where's he off to at this hour?"
Erza tugged again, her glance asking, Follow him?
"Absolutely… not." Shane refused on the spot. The city's vibe was wrong—trouble was brewing or already here.
They were leaving tomorrow; curiosity wasn't worth the detour.
Disappointed, Erza let it go. She'd only gotten to use her magic once and wanted another go, but she knew he was right and fell in beside him.
They took the remembered route back. At the third turn, both stopped.
A familiar figure stood ahead.
Shane looked away as if passing a rock, took Erza by the hand, and kept walking.
"That was—" Erza began softly.
"Didn't see," Shane cut in, walking faster.
He only made it a few steps before he halted.
On the corner ahead stood a tavern he'd never seen. Low wooden door, warm light in the windows, a signboard with a blurred wineglass painted on it.
Shane was certain this hadn't been here at dusk when he'd marched the bandits past.
Stranger still, the well-dressed steward stood quietly at the end of a line forming at the door. People kept joining; the silent queue stretched longer and longer.
"We're going around."
Shane pressed his lips thin and pulled Erza into a side lane.
They threaded a narrow alley; their footsteps rang on the stones. After the third bend, the warm-lit tavern stood before them again.
Same spot. Same queue—only now the steward's line had advanced.
Heat crawled up Shane's spine.
"I leave you alone and you still come picking a fight, huh?"
He tried twice more—once speeding up to bolt past, once turning back the other way. No matter the route, they ended up at the tavern door.
The line kept shrinking. The steward slipped inside.
Erza tugged his sleeve. "It's waiting for us."
Shane drew a long breath, weighing whether to blow the game with a True Name release and brute-force his way out.
He stared at the battered door for a long moment, then let the breath go. "All right. Let's see what this haunted place wants—if it really grants wishes."
At this point, he knew perfectly well: the tavern was the wish-granting one from the rumor.
~~~
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