Volume 4 Chapter 117: Night Garden

The Royal Capital of Earlist—aka the City of Water—boasted canals snaking through its streets and a massive lake that fueled its very specific brand of tourism. Case in point: pleasure boats. Not the wholesome family kind, but the “enjoy the view with a side of flirting” kind. The one we boarded tonight, Night Garden, was a floating feast of wine, dine, and… sigh, Dad’s terrible judgment.

The boat’s interior screamed “overcompensation”: gold-stitched carpets, lanterns shaped like tree branches (why?), and leather sofas that probably cost more than my guild salary. If not for the gentle rocking and city lights gliding past the windows, I’d swear we were in a sketchy high-end lounge. Which, technically, we were.

Hostesses in dresses tighter than Fiona’s grip on my social life flitted between tables. Let me clarify: Night Garden isn’t a brothel. It’s a “pay to have a pretty woman laugh at your jokes while you pretend to admire architecture” establishment. Still, bringing me here with Dad? Thanks for the future blackmail material.

Look, I’m a guy. Do I sometimes wonder what these places are like? Sure. But with Dad? Fiona would skin me alive. Siaira would disown me. Noel’s glare would freeze my mana veins. Tesea? She’d demand a girls’ night version. And the guildmaster? He’s probably a VIP here.

Before leaving the Spirit Wind guildhouse, I’d begged him to disable Fiona’s Love Lover skill. The spirits? Dad waved me off with a “I’ve got this!”—which means I’ll be groveling at El’s feet later.

“Hi there! I’m Sheimi! Scooch over, cutie~!”

A hostess plopped down beside me, her dress leaving zero room for imagination. I threw up a hand like a shield. “Personal space: one fist minimum!”

Sheimi’s smile twitched. “O-oh…! R-right!”

Galf, seated to my left, snorted into his drink. “Kid’s allergic to women. Present, past, and future. Don’t take it personal, Sheimi.”

Sheimi giggled nervously. Galf, a Night Garden regular, had suggested this floating venue to “avoid leaving trails.” Because water hides scent? Questionable logic, but I’ll take it.

Across the room, Dad and Lette were living their worst lives. Lette—demihuman heartthrob, accidental cougar magnet—sat on a hostess’s lap, face redder than the carpet.

“Guregure! That’s Noil’s old man for ya!” Lette slurred, toasting Dad.

What the hells is “guregure”?!

Lette’s mining skills might be B-rank, but his “cluelessly charming older women” talent is SSS. Gifts from admirers pile up at his door weekly. Now, blissfully ignorant, he let the hostess cuddle him like a prized teddy bear.

He’d joined us after drowning his sorrows at The Lion’s Den. One drink with Dad, and they’d bonded over… whatever middle-aged men bond over. Their friendship is already stronger than my will to live.

Meanwhile, Crys—Lion’s Den’s resident smooth-talker—had a table of hostesses swooning. “Your eyes outshine every gem in the capital,” he purred, triggering a chorus of squeals.

Crys had apologized earlier for pranking Mina. I’d accepted, demanding he apologize to her properly. Now, he was in his natural habitat: drunk and drowning in female attention.

Dad, meanwhile, was thriving. His tales of past romances weren’t lies—he had hostesses hanging on his every word. Lette matched him shot for shot, their table a vortex of expensive booze and poor life choices.

This is why I avoid “guy time” with Dad. Yet, watching him flirt like a retired playboy? Almost… impressive.

Note to self: Bribe the guildmaster to erase tonight from existence before Fiona finds out.

Our table’s vibe was glacial compared to the chaos around us.

“L-let’s liven things up too, okay~?” Sheimi chirped, raising a hand like a desperate kindergarten teacher. Silence. Her smile cracked as she mumbled, “O-okaaay…,” and slowly lowered her arm.

I’ve never felt this guilty in my life.

According to Galf, Sheimi was still new. With most hostesses flocking to the louder tables, she’d been dumped on us. Tragic. I wanted to help, but two very specific obstacles sat across the table:

Agent 1 and Agent 2.

Black suits. Sunglasses indoors. One sprawled with elbows on knees, the other sipping a cocktail like a mob boss. They’d “coincidentally” bumped into us earlier, and Dad—bless his cursed soul—invited them. Now they radiated ”we’re here to audit your fun” energy.

No way was I giving Alice more blackmail ammo.

“Um! More drinks, maybe…?” Sheimi tried, grinning nervously.

“No.”

“…O-okay.”

Why did you even come here, dude?!

Galf, my usual pillar of sanity, looked ready to bolt.

I leaned toward Sheimi. “You can ditch us. Seriously. We’ll handle the ‘rules.’”

“N-no! Guests must enjoy themselves!” she whispered back, clenching her fists like a shounen protagonist.

SMACK!

He suddenly whacked Agent 1’s head. The sunglasses slid sideways.

“You don’t come to a place like this and order NOTHING. Quit bein’ a buzzkill.”

“…Apologies.”

“Not to me, idiot.”

Agent 1 bowed deeply at Sheimi. She stared at us, wide-eyed.

Since when did Agent 2 have a personality?!

“Tch. A bow ain’t enough.” He plopped his empty glass on Agent 1’s lowered head. “Get the priciest bottle here. Glasses for everyone.”

“Y-yes, sir…!”

Sheimi robotically scribbled the order, rang a tiny bell, and handed it to a waiter. The man blinked at the sight of Agent 1’s glass-hat but fled without comment.

Note to self: Never let Dad plan “guy time” again.

“Relax. He’s paying,” Agent 2 said, jerking a thumb at Agent 1.

“O-okay…!”
Me & Nods aggressively.

Sheimi had now fully morphed into a human clam, clutching my sleeve like a lifeline. I’d normally protest, but the real menace sat across from us.

Agent 1 straightened, his sunglasses miraculously intact after the head-smacking.

“Noil Arlens.”
“Y-yes?”
“I must acknowledge your role in the Floating City Pharmament incident. Without you, Alice-sama’s safety…”
“…Huh?”
Deep bow. “Thank you.”

Oh no. No no no. We’re doing this HERE?!

Sheimi’s eyes lit up like mana stones. I glanced at Galf—he mimed slitting his throat.

SMACK!
Agent 1 faceplanted into the table. Thunk.

“A-are you okay?!”
Muffled. “Fine.”

Yep. This guy’s definitely an idiot.

“Wait… the Floating City…? Noil-san, were you… a secret hero?!”
“Nope. Fairy tales.”
Leans in, crushing my knees. “But how else would you be friends with Spirit Wind and Azure Doll?!”
“Coincidence.”
“Tell me the truth, or I’ll accidentally spill secrets~!”

…Since when did she develop yandere traits?!

“Just tell her. She’s got the vibe of someone who’ll stalk you otherwise.”
“I swear I won’t tell! (…Probably.)”

Agent 2 pointed at Dad, currently arm-wrestling Lette on a hostess’s lap. “Your old man? Total legend. ‘Mad Dog’ back in his day. Partied harder than a mana-stoned goblin.”

Spits drink. “THAT guy?! The ‘Mad Dog’?!”
Stares at Dad, now doing a keg stand. “…Huh.”

Shaking me violently. “TELL. ME. EVERYTHING!!”
“Sheimi-san—oxygen. Need oxygen—”