Betrayed, I Met The Demon Lord

Chapter 70 - Amor Clarus

A Royal Guard discreetly arrived and handed Van the contract, as per Nickelson's orders. He then informed Marcy that it had been decided Varlog and Yilla would remain here. Given Marcy's formidable reputation in the Capital, no one would dare challenge the decision, or her. Reluctantly, she agreed.

By nightfall, the Royal Guard had left. Van returned to the room prepared for him and handed back Marcy's armor, despite her earlier permission for him to keep it. She accepted his gesture without much fuss. After refreshing himself, Van descended to the now-empty guild hall.

"Funny how the same guy who gave you your house contract is the one relaying my 'orders'... Got anything to say about that?" Marcy asked, sitting across from Van at a table.

"No," Van replied curtly, staring at the mug of ale she'd poured for him earlier.

"Wow, not even gonna pretend you're hiding something?" she teased, letting out a small chuckle.

"I reckon you've got secrets of your own. This one's mine," Van shot back, his tone sharp. Marcy sighed, exasperated.

"Ahhh...!! You're so tense! I can barely handle it when that ice bitch does it, don't give me that attitude!" she groaned, taking a long sip from her mug and leaning back in her chair.

"...Or what?" Van asked, his gaze lifting with a frown.

"...Or what?" she echoed, startled by the sudden intensity. "I'm just trying to make conversation..." she mumbled, turning her eyes away.

A minute of silence followed. Van sat unmoving, still not drinking from his mug.

'How long has it been since Marcy and I last sat together like this?' Van thought. 'Back when my resistance was low and I could still get drunk... before Amoria joined us. In those early days, whenever we stayed at an inn, I'd go to the bars—a lot. Maybe it was guilt over agreeing to manipulate the girls in order to stop the demon lord, or maybe it was just jealousy and loneliness. Either way, drinking gave me relief. As my resistance stat grew, it became harder to get drunk... but not impossible.'

'Not long after I started hitting the taverns, Marcy joined me—usually when that harem bastard was too tired or off training alone; a new hobby he made for himself the more we were on the road,' Van reflected.

'At first, meeting her at the tavern was just a coincidence... and awkward. Sometimes we'd sit next to each other, other times on opposite sides of the place. There were nights when I'd drink outside, avoiding the whole situation—to distance myself, like I always did, to escape that frustration and awkwardness that seemed to come with every evening. But eventually, it became routine. Before long, she'd be commenting on how I was late if I didn't arrive at the tavern before her. During our travels, she always kept a tough exterior, but at night, she was different—freer, almost like a completely different person. She treated me like a little brother, constantly. She was... a happy drinker, and surprisingly, it was fun. Drinking with someone like her made it easier to forget my problems, especially with the alcohol numbing everything.'

Marcy glanced at Van's blank expression.

"I invited you to drink, so drink up," she said.

'But now... I feel that awkwardness again. That urge to step outside, to be anywhere but here with her. And this time, I don't think it's something that'll get better. Why does it feel like this?'

"Neither of us can get drunk," Van replied flatly, his eyes still fixed on the untouched mug, shoulders tense.

"I can... if I drink about four barrels non-stop," she said, sighing. "But the buzz disappears after a few minutes. It's a real pain," she added, taking a sip from her mug.