Show Me Your Stats!

Today's destination was the slums.

Finding the slums of any territory was simple. There was no grand estate or city that did not have one. All one had to do was follow the outskirts of town, and there, without fail, the slums would be waiting.
Solar’s slums were no exception, settled along the outer rim of the city.
As they approached, the houses and the people themselves seemed to lose color. Everything looked worn and dilapidated. Somewhere along the way, a foul stench of rotting filth filled the air, and dark streams of stagnant water trickled through the streets. Emaciated residents lounged about listlessly, their sunken eyes sharp with wariness as they caught sight of Ayra and Janus—two figures too well-dressed for this place.

Ayra hesitated, debating whether they should go deeper, when a peculiar sight caught her eye—figures dressed in pure white, standing starkly against the grimy, gray streets.
"Come now, there's still food left. Everyone, line up properly."
"Do not forget, Morunka watches over you all."

Priests of Morunka, distinguished by the red flowers pinned to their chests, were distributing food to the impoverished. The locals, evidently used to this routine, bowed their heads, making the sign of Morunka before receiving their share. It was not uncommon for religious organizations to engage in charity work.
Behind the priests, a different figure stood watching—a priest adorned with three red flowers. His presence was strikingly different. Unlike the others who wore gentle smiles, this one had an icy gaze. His robes were of finer quality, setting him apart from the rest.
Ayra immediately summoned her stat window.

HP: ???
MP: ???
Physical Attack Power: ???
Magical Attack Power: ???
Favorability: ???♡
 
Aterra? Was there even a noble house by that name in this territory? Frowning slightly, Ayra glanced at the person beside her—someone who had been living in Solar for over ten years.

She nudged Janus’s arm. "Who's that priest standing in the back?"
"Aterra te Act. He was recently appointed High Priest."
A High Priest? At that age?

As they spoke, Ayra suddenly felt a piercing gaze and turned her head.
The High Priest was staring directly at her. His cold, scrutinizing eyes were almost accusatory. Was it because they were standing there, out of place in the slums?
Not wanting to stir up unnecessary trouble, Ayra decided to leave. Yet, even as she walked away, that sharp gaze trailed her relentlessly, lingering until she was fully out of sight.

Wandering through the slums was far from a pleasant experience.
It was the most dangerous part of any city—where the starving and desperate clung to survival by any means necessary. Had she come alone, she would have inevitably found herself in trouble.
'So, these people will be my responsibility now...'
She had resolved to accept it, but the weight of it was overwhelming.

Had things gone differently, she could have simply spent her life in the Labyrinth, dedicating herself to research and experiments. But, just like her sudden death in her previous life, fate had a way of being unpredictable and utterly indifferent to personal preference.
Her mouth tasted bitter. For the first time in a while, she found herself craving a drink.
"I could really use some alcohol right now..."

She muttered to herself without thinking.
For the first time that day, Janus, who had been indifferent while walking through the slums, turned his gaze toward her. His golden eyes glinted with amusement, as if he had caught onto something Ayra herself had failed to fully conceal.
The corner of his lips curved. "Sensitive, aren’t you? Must’ve been real heartbreaking for you."

"That’s just human nature."
Her voice lacked conviction.
It wasn’t just sympathy for the poor that was weighing on her—it was the knowledge that she would have to govern these people. She, someone who knew nothing beyond magic, was expected to manage an entire estate.

She wasn’t even the type to run for class president in her past life.
No. Think positively. At the very least, she still had magic.
Ayra absentmindedly ran her fingers over the small stone resting on the back of her hand. The artificial spirit coiled around her finger in response.

Janus smirked. "Well, good. I like people who aren’t completely heartless."
For some reason, his words resonated in a way that made Ayra’s chest tighten.
Then, in an uncharacteristically gentle gesture, Janus placed a firm hand on her shoulder and gave it a light pat.

"Shall we get that drink?"
For a moment, Ayra thought they were heading back to the cozy tavern where they'd had those delicious meat buns.
With the cold creeping in, nothing sounded better than warm broth and a bottle of rice wine.

But instead of walking toward town, Janus started heading toward the mountains.
Ayra followed, puzzled. "Wait... Is there some kind of secret tavern in the mountains?"
Panting slightly as she trudged after him, she saw Janus easily striding ahead, completely unbothered by the steep incline.

He clicked his tongue. "You’re more trouble than I expected."
As Ayra struggled up the uneven path, her foot slipped on a bed of damp leaves, sending her skidding downward.
Before she could fall completely, Janus grabbed her by the scruff of her neck like a cat, lifting her effortlessly and setting her back on solid ground. The grip was so firm she felt momentarily strangled.

"It’s not a tavern," Janus said, continuing forward. "But now that I think about it, this land does have one good thing. The alcohol here is ridiculously strong."
Ayra squinted. "What’s that supposed to mean?"
He didn’t answer.

With no choice but to keep up, she pressed on, slipping and stumbling through the treacherous path. It took nearly an hour of grueling hiking before Janus finally stopped.
Gasping for breath, Ayra looked up.
They had arrived at a remote, shadowed area—isolated enough to send a chill down her spine.

She watched warily as Janus crouched down near a large rock.
Then, without hesitation, he started digging into the ground with his bare hands.
"......!"

The ground was already cold and hardened from the lack of sunlight, yet Janus’s hands sank into the dirt as easily as if he were shoveling loose soil. His movements were swift and efficient, and before long, a pile of dirt had formed behind him. Ayra could only stare blankly as he worked, until finally, he pulled something out.
It was a decayed wooden box, covered in dirt.
It had clearly been buried for a long time—when Janus casually brushed it off with his hands, it wasn’t just the dirt that crumbled away but the wood itself.

Inside, five glass bottles came into view.
Ayra’s eyes widened.
"Wait… why is there alcohol buried here?"

"I stashed a few bottles when I first got here."
Cradling the bottles in his arms, Janus started walking again.
If he buried them when he first arrived… that means this alcohol has been aging underground for ten years.

Feeling a surge of anticipation, Ayra eagerly followed. Before long, they found a broad, flat rock—perfect for sitting. The spot was bathed in warm sunlight, and from this elevated vantage point, the scenery was breathtaking.
As soon as they sat down, Janus handed Ayra an entire bottle.
"Wait a second."

Ayra rummaged through her subspace.
One of the first survival lessons young mages learned upon entering the Labyrinth was how to access their subspace and always carry emergency rations in case they got lost. If they waited long enough while eating their rations, their seniors would usually come rescue their “idiotic juniors” within a week.
After some digging, she finally pulled out a crumpled strip of jerky and a half-crushed biscuit.

She carefully spread out a handkerchief over the rock, set the food down, and popped open the bottle.
A heavy wave of alcohol hit her nose, sharp and potent.
Feeling the mood lift, she clinked her bottle against Janus’s and took a swig—only to immediately choke.

"Gods, how strong is this stuff?"
She shook the bottle slightly, glancing at Janus just in time to see him down half of his in one go. He then let out a pleased whistle.
"Aged well. Could’ve been stronger, but it’s not bad."

Stronger? If it were any stronger, it would be pure alcohol.
Regardless, it was a fine vintage, so Ayra grabbed a piece of jerky, chewed thoughtfully, and took another drink.
After a few sips, warmth spread through her body, melting away the weight that had settled on her after visiting the slums.

Yeah, things will work out somehow.
Looking down at her hand, she noticed that the artificial spirit—buzzed from absorbing alcohol through her body—was now rolling around her skin with more elasticity than usual.
Hmph, soon the quest will be complete, the estate will settle somehow… Living here might actually turn out to be more enjoyable than the Labyrinth.

And…
Her stormy gray eyes drifted toward the person sitting beside her.
Taking another sip, she spoke in a lighthearted tone.

"Today was nice. You've been a great guide, and this seems like some pretty rare liquor. I feel like I should give you some kind of reward."
"No need. You already bought me clothes, and I’ve enjoyed our time together."
Janus drawled lazily, tipping his bottle back. His tousled hair fell slightly over his eyes, which were now hazy with the warmth of alcohol.

Ayra’s gaze unintentionally lingered on his lips, the way his throat moved as he swallowed.
Her ears twitched involuntarily, but she forced herself to act nonchalant. "Really?"
"Yeah. Watching you walk around like you don’t have eyes or trip like you don’t have feet is entertainment enough."

"Hey—"
Annoyed at being treated like a spectacle, Ayra glared at him.
But Janus only burst into laughter.

"You’re even cuter when you glare."
His teasing words bruised her pride—and worse, they made her heart waver. She could only be grateful that her face was already flushed from the alcohol.
She took another drink, washing down her embarrassment as she reflected on her time exploring the estate.

The pristine white lord’s castle, the roughly built brick and wooden homes, the slums, the bustling market, the small trade posts, the clusters of farmland, the jagged cliffs of the surrounding mountain ranges...
Two weeks.
It was both a short and long time, but in those two weeks, she had started to familiarize herself with this small territory.

Solar was a cold, dry land dominated by mountains. Yet, even in such a harsh environment, the people lived on, carving out their own lives.
And yet, it wasn’t just Solar that had settled into her heart.