By the time Arin reached the outer stretch of the Greyhaven city walls, the rhythm of the city had already begun to change.
He had taken a carriage straight from the orphanage—choosing not the familiar routes, but the far end of the city.
The second gate.
The one that opened toward forests, dungeons… and adventurers.
Where the guild stood.
He had entered the Ironreach District.
The streets here felt different.
Less crowded—but heavier.
Fewer merchants. More steel.
Weapons were no longer tucked away or hidden beneath cloth. They were worn openly, carried without hesitation. Conversations were shorter, sharper. People didn't linger.
They passed through.
Or they prepared to leave.
This was where people prepared to walk out of the city… and into danger.
Ahead, the massive structure of the Riftgate stood against the pale morning sky—reinforced wood and iron, marked by years of use. Beyond it lay the forests, the dungeons, and everything that didn't belong to the safety of the city.
And not far from it—
the Stonebound Guild.
The Stonebound Guild stood like a quiet authority of its own. Not extravagant. Not decorative. Just solid. Built from thick stone, marked by a large emblem carved above its entrance—a hammer striking down against stone.
Simple.
Unmistakable.
Arin paused for a moment, his eyes resting on it.
Then he moved on.
Not yet.
A little further down the road, tucked just slightly away from the direct path to the gate, stood a tavern.
It wasn't flashy.
But it was alive.
The sound of voices, laughter, utensils striking wood, and the occasional thud of a mug being placed down too hard carried out through the open doorway. The scent of cooked meat and warm bread drifted outward, mixing with the faint chill in the air.
Arin stepped inside.
The atmosphere hit him instantly.
Warm.
Loud.
Lived in.
A wide dining area stretched across the ground floor. Wooden tables—some filled, some half-empty—held groups of adventurers mid-meal. A few glanced up briefly when he entered, then returned to their conversations. No one lingered.
Good.
Behind the counter—
something… large moved.
Arin's eyes shifted.
And then—
he saw her.
She stood easily taller than anyone else in the room. Broad-shouldered. Solid. Built like someone who could carry a full barrel without effort. Her arms were thick with muscle, her presence commanding without even trying.
And yet—
she was smiling.
Not softly.
Not gently.
But openly.
Confident.
"New face," she said, her voice carrying easily across the space. "You here to eat or stay?"
Arin stepped forward.
"…Stay," he replied.
She looked him over once.
It was neither rude nor suspicious, but simply a quiet act of measuring.
Then she nodded slightly.
"Good," she said. "Rooms are clean. Food's better than anything outside. One silver a day."
"No negotiation."
Arin didn't respond immediately.
His gaze remained on her for just a second longer.
Helgarth…
The name surfaced in his mind as naturally as the image before him.
Yeah… that fits.
If he had heard the name in his previous world, he would've imagined a tall Viking woman—strong, imposing, larger than most.
But standing here now—
this woman somehow felt even more intimidating than that image.
And far more real.
"…That includes food?" Arin asked.
"It includes not worrying about it," she replied simply.
A brief pause.
Then, casually—
"If you want cheaper, there are places down the road. You'll get what you pay for."
Arin exhaled softly.
He didn't even need to think about it.
I didn't come here to live small.
In his last life, money had always been something to calculate.
To hesitate over.
To justify.
And in the end—
it hadn't mattered.
Not when it counted.
This time—
he wouldn't live like that.
"…I'll take it," Arin said. Then, with a faint exhale,
"Name's Arin. I'll be your guest for a while."
Helgarth gave a small nod.
"Good."
"Oi—Kiri."
Helgarth called out.
"Room."
Two figures appeared almost immediately from the side corridor.
Twin cat demi-humans.
At first glance, they looked nearly identical—same height, same build, same ears twitching slightly as they took in the new arrival.
But their expressions gave them away.
One leaned forward slightly, eyes bright, curiosity practically radiating.
"Well, well…" she said, circling just a little too casually. "You don't look like the usual crowd."
The other stood a step behind her, arms loosely folded.
"…He looks lost," she said flatly.
The first one—Kiri, Arin assumed—shot her a look.
"He does not look lost."
"He walked in and froze for half a second," the other replied. "That's lost."
"I was observing," Arin said calmly.
Both of them paused.
Then—
Kiri grinned.
"Ah. Observing type," she said. "That's better."
"…Still looks lost," the other added.
Arin didn't react.
That seemed to amuse them more.
Helgarth didn't even look up.
"Take him up," she said. "And don't waste time."
"Yes, boss," Kiri replied lightly.
"…We never waste time," the other muttered.
"You absolutely do," Helgarth said.
————
The room was on the upper floor.
Spacious.
Clean.
Better than he expected.
A proper bed rested against the wall—wide enough, with a thick mattress that didn't feel worn down. A sturdy wooden table stood near the window, large enough for actual work, not just eating. A cupboard sat beside it, empty but well-kept.
A full mirror was mounted along the wall.
An attached washroom.
And a magic stone lamp resting in its holder, faintly glowing with a steady, warm light.
Arin stepped toward the window.
The view opened outward—past the edge of the Ironreach District, toward the long road that led straight to the Riftgate.
Even from here, he could see movement.
Adventurers heading out in small groups. Some returning, slower, heavier. Guards stationed near the gate, their silhouettes steady against the morning light.
Beyond it—
the world stretched open.
Faint outlines of forest. The rising edge of distant hills. The kind of horizon that didn't promise safety—only distance.
Arin stood there for a moment longer.
Then exhaled quietly.
"…Yeah."
He understood it immediately.
One silver makes sense.
This wasn't luxury.
But it was… right.
————-
"Lunch is ready if you want it," Kiri said from the doorway.
"You can eat downstairs," Kira added. "…or here. Your choice."
Arin turned back.
"Downstairs," he said.
"Good choice," Kiri said. "Food tastes better when you don't eat alone."
"…Debatable," Kira added.
—————-
The meal was simple—fresh bread, a thick, warm soup, and a portion of pork belly cutlet, crisp on the outside and tender within.
Arin took his first bite and paused for a brief moment, as if measuring it. Then he continued, slower this time.
It was good. Not just something to fill his stomach, but something properly made—warm, satisfying, and real.
For the first time since morning, the tension in his body eased, if only slightly. There was no urgency here, no pressure weighing on him.
Just a quiet moment, and a decent meal.
————-
When Arin returned to his room, the noise from below had softened into a distant, indistinct hum. The door closed behind him with a quiet click, and the space settled into stillness once more.
This time, he didn't leave things as they were. He moved with small, deliberate motions—lifting the leather bag and placing it neatly inside the cupboard, setting the wooden crate beside it with more care than before. It wasn't much, but it was enough to make the room feel… his, even if only for now.
The key Helgarth had given him was set down on the table, its faint metallic sound the only thing that broke the quiet.
Only then did he sit.
The chair creaked lightly under his weight as he leaned back, his gaze drifting through the large window. The glass panes were wide enough to open the space, letting in pale daylight and a clear view beyond—the outer stretch of the district, the road that led toward the gate, and the wild lands that waited far past it.
For a few moments, he simply watched.
No one was calling him. No one was waiting. No one was expecting anything from him anymore.
It was… unfamiliar.
Arin exhaled slowly, his fingers resting loosely against the edge of the table as his thoughts began to settle into place, one after another.
"…Alright," he said under his breath.
Not to anyone.
Just to himself.
And this time, he let his mind move forward.