“To the living!”
In the warm corner of the Pujis House, Veyra’s four-person team raised their cups; the rims chimed crisply as they clinked together.
Although Veyra had told that helper to retreat alone, and the teammates had tacitly agreed, that didn’t mean they truly accepted death.
They simply figured that four dying was better than five.
After the dust settled, the chill of having faced death still needed to be calmed by alcohol. They drained their cups and let the warmth push away the cold in their chests.
Of course, the reward for surviving such a life-and-death moment was generous.
Their employer Barton, grateful that they hadn’t abandoned him at the critical moment, gave them a large additional tip on top of the agreed pay.
Veyra accepted the gesture without ceremony—after all, it had been bought with their lives.
On top of that, the city lord’s office issued a bounty for assisting in the eradication of the cult.
Though the amount didn’t match Barton’s gift, it was still a tidy sum.
Why celebrate at the Pujis House?
“Only their Elven Icewine is still affordable…” Sirian said with a hint of relief.
Because the Elven Forest had lately suffered some mishap, the already-rare Elven Icewine had been cut off completely; the market price had skyrocketed.
The Pujis House had raised its prices a bit too, but they remained within an acceptable range.
Veyra guessed the owner must have a mysterious apothecary-brewer behind the scenes, but Sirian dismissed that.
He explained, “The raw material for Elven Icewine grows only in the Elven Forest and is difficult to preserve. If you transport the raw material out to brew it, the costs would be even higher.”
They all discussed quietly, and eventually agreed that owner Dylan must have a special supply channel to keep providing icewine at a steady rate now.
Sirian didn’t say it out loud, but he suspected Dylan—or whoever supplied Dylan—likely had ties to a forest patrol squad captain.
Of course, that was idle speculation; he wasn’t running the Pujis House and wouldn’t bother investigating. He was just happy to get cheaper icewine.
Still, “cheaper” was relative.
Sirian looked at the pale cyan liquid in his glass and said, “You know, back in Ishirdoril, this is just the elves’ everyday table drink. Who knew once it left the forest the price would multiply so much! A typical mission’s pay would only buy three bottles! Ridiculous…”
Veyra tilted his head, curious. “Everyday? You mean the elves have even better wine?”
“Of course!” Sirian smacked his lips. “The best is the royal reserve—made from Silver Dewflowers that bloom in moonlight. It tastes like morning dew, and the aftertaste feels like stars dancing on your tongue… I’ll try to get some for you sometime!”
“Ha! You talk like you’re an elf prince,” Phylline teased, raising her cup to tap his.
Amid the passing of cups, Bianca—dressed in a maid outfit—brought dishes with a few other similarly attired pujis.
The girl’s steps faltered; while placing the plates she stole four or five glances at Sirian. Each time their eyes met she quickly looked away, her face flushing until she darted back into the kitchen with the pujis in tow.
Sirian and Veyra were used to this and paid it no mind.
Dylan, watching from afar, simply counted the Pujis House’s profits in his head. He had long realized his maid’s flustered looks weren’t due to any special feeling for Norris or Sirian—she just couldn’t help staring at pretty, handsome youths and always turned crimson when caught.
He smirked inwardly. Little brat.
…
“By the way, Veyra,” after a few rounds, Phylline hiccupped and asked, “When you went to the city lord’s office to claim the bounty, did you ask Sir Aiden about the name of our rescuer?”
“Aiden is swamped with work—he wouldn’t deal with small matters like handing out rewards personally.” Veyra spread his hands helplessly. “I couldn’t very well bother him just to ask a name, could I?”
“But we can’t not know the name of the person who saved us, right?” Phylline waved her hands excitedly. “If he hadn’t shown up in time, I’d probably have a few more holes in me!”
Veyra nodded in agreement. “Next time I see Sir Aiden I’ll ask. Who knows—maybe that person lives in Mordu!”
“That person looked younger than you but was no weaker,” Fein interjected.
Veyra laughed it off. “I’m no prodigy. It’s only natural to meet someone more gifted than me!”
——
Meanwhile, in the Pujis Dungeon.
Because official forces had stepped in, Norris’s vacation had to be cut short.
He didn’t complain. Besides basking in the sun in Mordu, he hadn’t found anything else he particularly wanted to do.
As soon as he returned to the familiar environment, Gray was first to greet him—sniffing his scent carefully and pawing at him to check his body.
To prevent Gray from “accidentally” pulling off a few scales during the inspection, Norris smoothly produced two silver scales from his waist and pressed them into Gray’s paw.
Having satisfied the eager Gray, Norris exchanged a brief greeting with Qiong, who had heard the news, but didn’t head straight back to the Mushroom Fields. Instead, he went to a pool in the cavern.
【Mimicry LV9】
The scaled face reflected on the water began to slowly change, eventually showing the human visage Norris used while in Mordu.
He had never deliberately altered that face—aside from hiding scales, this should be his original appearance.
He had thought his look hadn’t changed, but remembering Veyra’s team’s reactions, perhaps his face had altered somewhat. Or maybe Veyra and Phylline had never really stored a clear memory of his features to begin with…
Just as a faint loss swelled in him and before it could take shape, the boss’s boisterous laughter rang in his mind.
To mock him further, the boss instantly spawned a pujis at Norris’s feet, writhing and rolling on the ground.
“Lizard big brother, why do you look like this?” Riel, a little elf who had arrived beside a large pujis, asked curiously.
Riel had also connected to the Mycelium Network—not through parasitism, but by using Transformation to become a pujis and linking in directly.
With unobstructed communication and the boss’s backing, the little elf had grown bolder. She felt at ease here and dared to be forward with anyone.
She believed everyone—lizardfolk, half-demons, pujis—were good people.
And the dungeon’s abundance of materials let her delve deeply into alchemy. Riel was very satisfied with her life here.
Only lacking [Cold Resistance], her activities were mostly confined to the Pujis Dungeon.
“This is my original appearance.” Norris pointed at the reflection and explained.
“Original?” Riel tilted her head, clearly not understanding.
She looked again and offered her impression: “It looks weak. The scales are cooler—if only you had a tail…”
Riel suddenly went silent, thinking she might have said something to remind the lizard big brother of a painful memory about his tail.
But Norris was amused by her comment.
He watched the silver scales reform on the water-reflected face and tapped a hard scale with his claw, producing a crisp knocking sound. “True—scales are good. They can even block attacks from diamond-rank fighters!”
Recalling the clash with Gavin, brief though it had been, his pulse still raced.
The experience of opposing someone he once could only look up to thrilled him—if only Jida had been there then, he could have fought in full strength!
He wondered if, when he became stronger, he could one day walk Mordu’s streets without using a disguise.
“Hmm… probably not easy…” he said with a self-deprecating smile and rose, no longer watching the reflection.
Just then, the usually gleeful boss stopped laughing. “Why did you come to terms so quickly this time?”