I Don’t Want to Be a Heroic Spirit [469]

"So? You're here to shop too?"

Frieren slid the Dark Dragon's horn back into the paper bag and said to Aesc, "There's actually a lot of interesting stuff in this place besides the Dark Dragon's horn… But I already spent way too much on it. Blew through all my private stash. If I dip into our travel funds, Fern's definitely going to get mad…"

"Gee, you think? If you tick her off again, don't expect me to step in and smooth things over."

Aesc's merciless comment immediately soured Frieren's good mood from scoring such a rare magical item, and her expression crumpled like a glitched-out TV mascot.

"And for the record… you guessed wrong. I'm not here to buy something—I'm here to sell."

As she spoke, Aesc pulled out the wolf fang she'd gotten from defeating the Frost Wolf and held it up for Frieren to see.

"Is that… a Frost Wolf fang?"

Well-traveled as she was, Frieren recognized it instantly—and then stared at Aesc with wide, incredulous eyes.

"That's a great material! Sure, it's nowhere near as rare as a Dark Dragon horn, but it's still incredibly useful! Whether for potion-making or researching ice magic—it's perfect. So why are you selling it?!"

"Because I don't want it. Is that so hard to understand?"

"Then give it to me! It'd be a thousand times more useful in my hands than anyone else's. Way better than selling it!"

"Why should I? I earned this fang with my own skills. Why would I just hand it over for free? If you want one, go kill a Frost Wolf yourself and see if you get lucky."

"You…!"

So annoying… I need to find a way to eat all their food supplies later. Wait, no—we live together, don't we?

Frieren pouted, simmering. Meanwhile, Aesc had zero intention of just giving the fang away. And buying it was unrealistic—Frieren had blown most of her cash on that horn. Even if she had the money, Frost Wolf fangs weren't that valuable—not worth a special purchase.

"Well, if you're gonna sell it, just talk to the shopkeeper."

Frieren said it flatly, as if she'd already lost interest.

Aesc, curious, asked, "What's the shopkeeper like?"

Besides the horn Frieren had bought, the shop was still unlit, and Aesc had already spotted several weird and sketchy-looking items on the shelves.

Suspicious from every angle.

"If you're asking me… I only saw them once and exchanged a few words. I have no idea what kind of person they are."

Frieren frowned slightly. "They were covered head to toe in a cloak. I don't even know what they look like."

"Covered head to toe?"

That sounded even more suspicious…

"Oh, right—and their laugh was super creepy. They kept going 'keh keh keh'... Anyway, just your average magical item shop owner."

Aesc: "…"

'Average' my ass! That's the most suspicious thing I've ever heard!

And what was with that laugh? Keh keh keh—what is this, the Soul Hall Elders haunting me into another world?

Aesc groaned, massaging her temple.

…

Night fell.

Fern had something to ask Aesc, so she opened the door to Aesc's room—

And stepped into a dream.

Moonlight poured in. Crystal flowers bloomed. A lake reflected the stars, and magical mist shimmered, flowing toward the heavens like a celestial river.

It was the same vision they'd seen near Gris, and even now, it took Fern's breath away—filling her chest with an overwhelming sense of wonder.

"Hm? Oh, Fern."

The illusion slowly faded, and a flicker of disappointment welled in Fern's heart.

In its place was the familiar room she knew, and Aesc was standing by the bed, holding something in her hands.

Fern's eyes locked onto the object and she asked, "Is that a magical device for recording images?"

"That's right."

Aesc nodded and carefully tucked it away. "We're headed to the Soul Resting Grounds soon. If we really do get to see Himmel and the others… I want him to witness this scenery. He never had the chance while he was alive, so at least after death, I want to make up for that regret."

Hearing that, Fern began to ponder… If I meet Lord Heiter in the Soul Resting Grounds, what could I bring him?

The first thing that came to mind was alcohol—he did love drinking… But could a soul still drink?

Fern's mouth scrunched. She really couldn't think of anything appropriate.

"So, what did you come to ask me?"

"Ah! Right, I almost forgot…"

Fern blinked, as if waking up, then quickly flushed red before speaking in a small voice: "It sounded really lively outside… like there's a festival or something."

"Hm?"

Aesc turned and pulled open the curtains—which she'd closed earlier while checking her image-recording device.

With the curtains drawn aside, Aesc saw not just noise, but a glowing, lantern-lit spectacle outside.

Looked like it really was a festival.

Come to think of it, the townspeople had seemed busy earlier today. Like that couple who had Stark help carry booze—maybe that was all prep?

As Aesc stepped out of the room, she saw Frieren and Stark already dressed and ready to head out.

"Looks like you two are set for a festival."

Aesc narrowed her eyes, amused.

Frieren smiled and nodded. "Yup. I heard about it from some folks in town."

Stark scratched his head, grinning. "The tavern owners told me when I helped them out. Later, while I was playing with Angel and his friends, they mentioned it too."

Angel was a boy Stark had met earlier that day. They'd played games together with some other kids and hit it off quickly.

So, aside from Fern, who'd stayed in the inn all day…

"…I'm the only one who's been out and still missed all this?"

Aesc drooped like a wilting flower.

What the heck… Am I not the protagonist? Why do Frieren and Stark keep running into special NPCs and unlocking story events, while I get nothing?

Fern, unaware of Aesc's inner turmoil, was curious about the festival and turned to Frieren.

"Um… what kind of festival is it, exactly?"

Frieren tilted her head. "Something about honoring the dead, I think? I'm not too sure."

"You didn't know about the festival before, Lady Frieren?"

"I must've heard of it… but I didn't really pay attention back then, so I forgot most of it."

She tilted her head thoughtfully. "Himmel mentioned it to me once, I think it was called… what was it again?"

As they chatted, the group exited the inn.

Though it was night, the streets were brighter than they'd been during the day. Countless warm-colored lanterns hung from buildings or were carried in people's hands.

Aesc looked around and suddenly understood.

"Oh… it's the Night of Returning Souls."

"Lady Aesc, you know about it?"

Since Frieren wasn't much help, Fern turned to Aesc instead.

"Mm, let me think… how to explain…"

After sorting through her memory, Aesc spoke.

"In this region, people believe that when someone dies, they go to heaven. And on this night each year, they return to visit the living. That's the Night of Returning Souls."

"People hold lively celebrations to welcome their loved ones back. It's also their way of showing the deceased that they're living happy, fulfilling lives—so the dead can rest easy, knowing their loved ones are doing well."

She pointed to the many glowing lanterns.

"Those are sky lanterns. They light the way for returning souls so they don't get lost on the journey home. That's a big tradition of this night. People start preparing them days in advance, until lanterns fill the entire town. Seeing them again reminded me what today was."

A festival to honor the departed—one that exists in every world, in one form or another. Like Zhongyuan in China, Obon in Japan, Halloween, or Día de los Muertos. Though the names and customs may vary, there's always the idea of welcoming back the spirits of loved ones.

"Yo, Stark!"

A man approached, waving at the group.

Aesc recognized him as the tavern owner.

"Uncle Viller? What are you doing here?"

"Haha! Thanks again for today. You really helped me out. If I'd been doing that alone, my back would be out by now. I'm just passing through."

Uncle Viller smiled warmly. "You folks are out-of-towners, right? First time celebrating the Night of Returning Souls? Want a local guide?"

"Really? Wouldn't that be too much trouble?"

"Nah! My wife would insist I help you out."

As he spoke, Viller clapped a familiar arm around Stark's shoulder.

Then, with his back to the rest of the group, he whispered: "So, Stark—tell me. Those three lovely girls behind you… which one's your girlfriend?"

"Wh-what?!"

Stark immediately panicked.

"Aww, you're blushing! Youth is so sweet. I used to be just like you…"

"That's not it! You've got the wrong idea!"

…Did they really think no one could hear them?

Aesc squinted, deadpan.

Still, Uncle Viller had a point. Having a local guide would be really helpful.

He asked if there was anywhere they wanted to go.

"I'd like something good to eat."

Frieren answered plainly.

"It's been forever since we had anything decent on the road."

Stark frowned, remembering that rock-hard bread that clanged against the plate.

"Yeah… food's definitely a priority."

Aesc nodded in agreement.

So Viller brought them to a street lined with food stalls.

He recommended several, and they were good. Everything they tried got rave reviews from the group.

The streets were more crowded than ever, more even than during the day. It was easy to get separated in the throng.

Interestingly, it seemed that every so often, someone new would come up and greet Stark—or thank him.

"Is Stark always this popular?"

Frieren asked, her tone unreadable.

But Stark looked utterly confused. "I don't think so? Everyone's just been really kind, that's all."

"Lord Stark hasn't even been outside that long."

Fern frowned, scanning the smiling faces around them. "So why does it feel like the entire town knows him already? How did he get close to everyone this fast?"

"Even the sweets you got today were originally a gift for Stark."

Aesc reminded her.

"Oh, right… And Lord Stark, where'd you get that?"

Fern turned to find Stark holding a paper-wrapped meat pie, happily munching away.

"This? Old man Feru gave it to me earlier, when we passed his stall. Said it was thanks for helping out today… it's really good. Want a bite?"

Feru? Who's that? The whole group silently shared the same thought.

"…No, you go ahead."

"Oh, okay."

Not far away, a storyteller was performing, surrounded by a group of excited kids.

Fern pointed. "Looks like they're telling a story about Lord Himmel."

The storyteller was energetically recounting a tale of Himmel slaying a giant serpent over a kilometer long with a single swing of his sword.

"Did we… ever do anything that amazing?"

Aesc turned to Frieren.

"…That's ridiculous."

Frieren's voice was flat. "It was only ten meters long. How did it become a kilometer in the retelling?"