At dusk, Orario's sky was washed in orange-red.
After returning from the Dungeon, Shirou Emiya first stopped by the Guild.
"Th-these are all your earnings from today, Mr. Emiya?"
Behind the counter, the brown-haired half-elf advisor—Eina Tulle—stared in disbelief at the pile of magic stones and drops stacked like a small mountain.
"Yeah. More or less," Shirou nodded. "Mostly from monsters on Floors 5 through 7."
"Floor 7…" Eina pushed up her glasses, her tone turning stern. "Mr. Emiya! I heard you're a new recruit of the Loki Familia, but you only registered yesterday, didn't you? On your first day you went down to Floor 7 and even defeated a half-orc—those are power-type monsters! That's completely reckless!"
As a Guild advisor, Eina had seen too many rookies die in the Dungeon because they got greedy and pushed too far. She was kind by nature and didn't want this gentle-looking red-haired boy to become another casualty.
"Sorry for worrying you," Shirou said.
He didn't argue—just offered a mild, apologetic smile. "But I had a very good guide. And I'm pretty attached to staying alive."
Looking into those clear eyes—steady and free of impatience—Eina's prepared lecture suddenly jammed in her throat.
"…Honestly." She sighed, then swiftly finished tallying the goods. "Total: 38,000 valis. For a beginner, that's an absurd record-breaking haul. Take it—go eat something nice and relax."
"Something nice…" Shirou weighed the coin pouch in his hand. He could cook for himself, but since he'd come to another world, he might as well experience its local flavor.
"I heard there's a famous tavern on West Main Street?" he asked casually.
"You mean The Hostess of Fertility, right?" Eina's expression turned a bit… complicated. "The portions are huge and you'll definitely be full, and the owner is… very spirited. But the staff all have strong personalities. Don't start trouble."
…
West Main Street—The Hostess of Fertility.
Before Shirou even stepped inside, he could hear the noise, the laughter, and the clatter of cups.
"Welcome~! Oh, a new face!"
The moment he pushed open the wooden door, a gray blur swooped in.
A human girl with gray hair and gray eyes, wearing a white apron, smiled at him in a way that was hard to read.
"Dining alone? You're pretty handsome, mister!" she said brightly, grabbing his arm without giving him room to refuse. "Come, come—there's an empty seat over here!"
Syr Flova.
For some reason, when she looked at him, Shirou's Mind's Eye gave a faint twitch.
It felt like being scanned by something… higher. Something that didn't belong in a normal "human" gaze.
"Thanks," Shirou said smoothly, slipping his arm free without making a scene, and taking a table in the corner.
"What'll you have? Today's recommendations are Mia-Mama's special fried potato balls and fire-dragon steak!"
"Those two, then. And a glass of fruit wine."
"Got it~! Ryuu, order here!" Syr called toward the bar.
"Understood."
A cool, clear voice answered.
An elf girl with pale green hair in tavern uniform approached with a tray.
She was beautiful.
Not the regal, queenly beauty of Riveria, and not the pure, doll-like beauty of Ais. This elf was like a dagger hidden in its sheath—beautiful, but edged with a cold, lethal sharpness.
Ryuu Lion.
A former Level 4 adventurer—"Gale."
Expressionless, she placed the utensils before Shirou with ritual-like precision. Her sky-blue eyes swept over his hands and posture, and her pupils narrowed slightly.
Calluses at the tiger's mouth of his palm.
Weight distribution.
A body that looked relaxed—yet could explode into motion at any second.
This red-haired boy was not an ordinary rookie.
"These are your utensils," Ryuu said flatly. "Don't wander. There are a lot of drunk adventurers tonight."
"Thank you for the warning," Shirou replied politely.
Ryuu glanced at him once more, then turned away.
…
The tavern really was chaotic.
Adventurers boasted loudly about today's feats, or complained about unfair distributions from their Familias. Even in Orario—the so-called "center of the world"—the bottom tier still lived by the blade: gamble with death, drink if you survive.
"Hey! You elf over there!"
A bald, muscular brute at the next table suddenly stood up, face flushed, sloshing his mug. "Get over here! Why does this beer taste like water? You looking down on me?!"
His finger jabbed toward Ryuu, who was clearing a nearby table.
Ryuu stopped, turned, her eyes turning icy. "Sir, that is the tavern's standard ale. If you are intoxicated, please pay and leave."
"Hah? You're kicking me out?" the brute slammed the table, then—fueled by alcohol—reached to grab her wrist. "Don't act superior just because you're an elf! Here you're just a tray carrier! Apologize, or else—"
Ryuu's gaze sharpened.
Her fingers curled. She'd retired, but against trash like this, she'd only need half a second to break his hand bones.
But someone moved faster.
"啪."
A hand—not particularly large, but unnervingly strong—locked around the brute's wrist.
Ryuu froze.
She hadn't even seen when the red-haired boy stood up.
"Sir," Shirou said with a harmless smile, but the grip on his wrist was like an iron vise. The Level 2 brute couldn't move no matter how he struggled. "If you don't like the drink, choose a different place next time. Putting your hands on a woman isn't exactly 'adventurerly' behavior."
"Y-you bastard… let go!" The man's face turned purple—like the bones were about to crack.
"And another thing." Shirou didn't release him. Instead, his eyes narrowed, and his gentle air turned razor-sharp. "You said 'tray carrier'? People who earn money with honest work are far more respectable than cowards who act crazy behind alcohol. Apologize."
"S-sorry!!" The brute's courage shattered. He blurted it out immediately.
Shirou released him. The man stumbled out of the tavern, not even waiting for change.
The room went quiet for a heartbeat—then returned to noise. In a city ruled by strength, such an interruption was hardly rare.
Shirou sat back down as if nothing happened and resumed cutting into the fire-dragon steak that had just been served.
"Nosy," Ryuu said as she approached, voice still cool, though she set down a glass of vividly colored drink in front of him. "I could have handled it."
"I know," Shirou replied.
He looked up at her—at that stubborn elf who wore coldness like armor. "If you'd acted, his arm would've broken. That would've caused trouble for the tavern."
Ryuu fell silent.
It was true. If she struck, she wouldn't have been "gentle."
"And besides," Shirou said, placing a piece of meat into his mouth, his eyes deepening a little, "I can't stand people like that. If I see it, I don't have the option of pretending I didn't."
"For that kind of reason, you'll make enemies," Ryuu said, watching him. "Are you an idiot?"
"People tell me that a lot," Shirou laughed softly. "But… I want to become an ally of justice. It sounds childish, I know. But it's my ideal."
An ally of justice.
The instant those words left his mouth, Ryuu Lion stiffened.
In those calm blue eyes, a violent tremor flashed—pain, nostalgia, guilt—too many emotions colliding at once.
Once upon a time, the Astraea Familia had been exactly like that: idiots who shouted "justice" and lived it even while others mocked them.
But they were dead.
All of them.
And only she remained—a revenge-wraith stained with blood, clinging to life.
"…Justice?" Ryuu's voice turned hoarse, edged with self-mockery. "In this city, justice has been dead for a long time. Only power is truth. Ideals that naive will just get you killed faster."
"Maybe," Shirou said.
He sipped the drink she'd brought. Sweet-and-sour fruit juice—clean, refreshing.
"But justice doesn't mean you live. And it doesn't mean everyone applauds you."
He met her gaze. Those amber eyes felt like they could see straight through a soul.
"If you reach out when you see unfairness… if you don't turn away when someone calls for help… then that intent itself is justice."
He continued, calmly:
"Like just now. You said cold things, but your body moved in front of Syr before you even thought about it."
Ryuu froze.
When the brute started yelling, she really had shifted—subtly—shielding Syr behind her. She hadn't even realized it. Yet this boy had noticed.
"You…" Ryuu opened her mouth, but no words came out.
This red-haired boy carried a light that felt familiar—yet purer than anything she'd seen in Orario's city of desire.
"Shirou Emiya," he said, tapping his chest. "Loki Familia rookie. This juice is great—thanks for the treat."
Ryuu stared at him, as if engraving the name into memory.
"…Ryuu Lion," she answered quietly.
Then she turned away with the empty plates.
After a few steps she stopped, still not looking back. Her voice was a shade softer than before.
"Next time you come… I'll give you a discount."
Shirou smiled in the corner.
So the ice-cold elf lady was unexpectedly soft inside.
Meanwhile, behind the bar, Syr—who had been watching—curved her lips in an amused smile.
"Oh my, oh my… even Ryuu, who's like a stone, is wavering?"
Deep in her gray eyes, a glint of divine radiance flickered—something that made the air feel dangerous.
"Shirou Emiya… What a soul that makes you want to 'collect' it completely."
…
At the same time, in Twilight Manor—
After a meeting ended, Finn stared at a report in his hand, brows tightly knitted.
"What is it, Finn?" Riveria asked.
"Word from the Guild," Finn said, tapping the table. "The remnants of the Evilus faction may be moving again. And the Soma Familia has been selling an illegal 'divine wine' under the table. It's driving adventurers insane."
"Trouble at a time like this…" Finn's eyes drifted toward the window—toward West Main Street.
"I just hope our 'super rookie' doesn't get dragged into something messy."
-------
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