Chapter 8
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The Male and Female Leads Broke Up - Episode 8
I said nothing more and took my seat at the table.
"Miss, it seems the village festival starts today?"
"Is that so?"
"Yes. That's why the street we passed earlier was so crowded with festivities."
A festival, then.
Mary wouldn't have mentioned it without reason, so I narrowed my eyes and studied her carefully.
"Would you like to see the festival?"
"What? No, miss. We have far to go, and we don't have time to linger here."
"That's not necessarily true."
Her expression brightened immediately at my words.
Seeing the anticipation written across Mary's face, I paused in thought before speaking.
"What if we stayed another day or two?"
"Is that all right?"
"Enjoying the festival doesn't seem like such a bad idea."
"Oh, that would be wonderful! Thank you so much, miss!"
Seeing Mary's joy lifted my spirits as well.
When I thought about it, I had plenty of time ahead of me.
My parents hadn't set a deadline for my return, so spending a few days enjoying the festival here wouldn't disrupt my plans.
"Then I'll inform William about this!"
"Very well."
With that, Mary confirmed I was picking up my spoon before leaving the room.
After glancing at her departing figure, I was quite hungry, so I began eating.
The food was not bad.
It wasn't as good as what I ate at home, but it was certainly edible, so I ate with gusto.
After finishing my meal, I felt tired and was about to retire when various thoughts suddenly crowded my mind, and sleep wouldn't come easily.
So I left my room to take a brief walk outside and aid my digestion.
Retracing my steps from earlier, I descended the stairs alone and came upon the restaurant and tavern operated by the inn.
People were dining there.
And among them were two faces I recognized.
Mary and William.
They were dining together.
Though I observed from a distance, something about the atmosphere between them seemed unusual.
Ah, I see.
So that was it.
I had asked Mary earlier this evening to dine together, but she vehemently refused, citing reasons such as how nobles and commoners should never share a table.
Perhaps she was interested in the knight William and wanted to dine with him instead.
It seemed that while I was passing along the message that I would be staying here for a few days, we ended up agreeing to eat together anyway.
I had originally considered asking Mary to come along, but there was no real need to bring her in this situation.
Going out alone was far more convenient.
So I slipped quietly out of the Inn without disturbing the two of them.
The front of the Inn was remarkably deserted.
It seemed to be quite far from the Shopping District.
As I walked through the alleyways toward the Shopping District, the voices of people grew progressively louder with each step.
For the past six months, I had been so focused on my objective, constantly traveling between House Heitz and the Maxius Duchy Estate, that I had no opportunity to understand what this world was truly like.
I slowed my pace for a moment and felt around the inner pocket of my garment.
I needed to verify that I had enough money. The gold coins bunched in my palm felt reassuringly substantial.
'This should be enough, shouldn't it?'
After confirming the amount of money I carried, I immersed myself in the crowd.
* * *
Merchant Street gleamed brilliantly with the festival in full swing.
Despite the late hour, countless people had poured into the streets to enjoy the festivities.
As I glanced around, deliberating where to go first, a delicious aroma suddenly captivated my senses.
I quickened my pace toward the source of the smell.
Soon, a large brazier came into view, and above it, various skewers were being grilled, releasing an appetizing fragrance into the air.
'Wow, that smells incredible.'
Though I had eaten dinner not long ago, the magnificent aroma made my mouth water involuntarily.
I approached the brazier and scanned each item with my eyes to see what was available.
'Meat, potatoes, corn, sausage...?'
There were more items, but those were all I could identify.
"What would you like?"
The vendor asked as I pondered my choice.
"Um... one sausage, please."
"Yes, certainly. Here you are."
The vendor handed me a sausage skewered on a thin wooden stick.
After accepting the sausage, I rummaged through my money pouch with one hand and asked.
"How much is it?"
"We're distributing food for free during the festival period."
"Free?"
Such delicious food was being given away for free....
At the word "free," I glanced around briefly.
Now that I looked, no one was paying for anything—they were simply taking food without hesitation.
"Porta Devia."
"Pardon?"
As I was surveying my surroundings, an unfamiliar phrase suddenly reached my ears, and I turned to the proprietor with a bewildered expression, asking for clarification.
"It seems you're unfamiliar with that expression—you must be a visitor from elsewhere."
The proprietor offered a benevolent smile before speaking to me unexpectedly.
"Yes, that's right."
"Porta Devia is a phrase passed down only in our village, and it means 'today is the happiest day of my entire life.'"
"Por... ta Devia?"
"Yes, that's correct. Porta Devia. Throughout the festival, people keep this phrase on their lips."
"Ah, is that so?"
"Well then, I must be off—I'm quite busy. Porta Devia."
"Porta, Devia."
The moment I echoed his words, the proprietor offered me another warm smile.
Then, apparently pressed for time, he turned and quickly attended to someone else.
I stood motionless with a vacant expression for a moment before turning to leave.
The sausage tasted every bit as delicious as it smelled.
Though I couldn't discern what lay within, the filling and seasonings harmonized beautifully.
After satisfying my hunger with the sausage, I resumed exploring the street.
The street offered far more variety than I had anticipated.
Beyond clothing and provisions, flowers and jewels were displayed, filling my eyes with delight.
As I wandered through the various corners of the street, I found it remarkably similar to places I knew, which was both intriguing and reassuring.
While traversing the street, I noticed a large gathering of people in one corner.
Arranged in a circular formation, it was unmistakably a performance of some kind taking place within.
Curious about what sort of performance it might be, I carefully squeezed through the crowd.
As my view cleared, I realized the performers were the Circus Troupe.
Within the circle, some performers displayed acrobatic feats while others collected admission fees from the spectators.
Yet among them, one figure captivated everyone's attention—a Young Boy.
The child was precariously traversing a tightrope, and his form appeared perilously unstable.
Most alarmingly, a pit of flames had been constructed beneath him, presumably to heighten dramatic tension, and the slightest misstep would send the child plummeting into the inferno.
'This is far too dangerous.'
The child's upturned face was consumed by terror.
His movements were so clumsy that it was evident he had either rarely or never practiced tightrope walking before.
Without thinking, my brow furrowed with anxiety and displeasure as I watched the child's performance, when suddenly he truly did misstep.
"Ooooh!"
"Oh my!"
Fortunately, his reflexes proved adequate, and he immediately clung to the rope.
I exhaled in relief and refocused on the child.
Yet the near-fall had instilled such fear that I could plainly see the child's entire body trembling.
"What is this? How boring."
"Get up already!"
"Doesn't this Circus Troupe even train properly?"
"Ugh! This is pathetic."
At first, the audience assumed the stumbling was part of the performance—a deliberate bit of choreography meant to entertain.
But as the Young Boy remained unable to find his footing after several minutes, the crowd's enthusiasm waned, and murmurs of discontent rippled through the tent.
"Hey, you brat! Get up already?!"
Then one of the men from the Circus Troupe, positioned near me, bellowed at the Young Boy with a barrage of curses.
Despite the man's intimidation, the Young Boy's body simply refused to obey—he could only cling desperately to the rope, fighting with every ounce of strength not to fall.
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