“A woman’s story.”
“Huh?”
Iroel was lost. He slapped himself on the head to ensure his ears were working correctly. The guy wants to talk about women during this urgent situation where demons could attack any minute?
“What are you doing? Come on.” Rufus walked towards his makeshift tent and beckoned to Iroel.
“…Oh, my…” Iroel scratched the back of his head and accepted the uncomfortable invitation. But as soon as Iroel entered the tent, Rufus blocked the passage.
“What’s the matter? Why are you blocking the door? What are you going to do to me?” Iroel’s bewildered voice came from inside the dimly lit tent.
“Don’t worry, I won’t kill you.” Once Rufus ignited the lamp with magic, the tent’s interior came into view.
“Sit down.” Rufus pointed to the tent’s centre. There was a small wooden box used as a temporary table.
What a shabby place.
A musty smell emanated from the tent’s cloth, wet with rain. There was mould growing on the ceiling. And a rattling sound could be heard from somewhere.
Iroel, who had an odd gaze on Rufus, quickly settled down.
“Do you drink?”
“Huh?”
“I shouldn’t have asked. You were one who would die for alcohol.”
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