An outdoor bath is the best no matter how many times you go. After I retire, I'm definitely going to live near a hot spring.
The bath completely chased away my drowsiness, and I headed back to my room in high spirits.
I was worried I might have kept her waiting, but Tino still hadn't returned. It had been well past the ten minutes I'd said, but the time wasn't really meaningful, so it didn't matter.
I let out a huge yawn, and since I had nothing better to do, I pulled out the "Evolving Ogre Mask" from my bag.
I stretched the crumpled thing out flat with both hands and placed it on the desk. The empty eye sockets looked at me, and the corners drooped into a frown.
I found that reaction pretty rude. What on earth were the ancients thinking when they gave it that kind of function?
"What do you want? I've told you before, I can't raise your abilities. I can't do what I can't do. It's not my fault—I'm designed to be able to raise the abilities of just about anyone. You're the one to blame."
What a terrible thing to say. What a useless Treasure Weapon.
"No, I don't really have a reason… I was just bored, and if I sit around doing nothing I'll get sleepy, so I figured I'd chat with you until Tino gets back."
"Y-you… what do you think I am?! What do you think this Evolving Ogre Mask is?!"
Its mouth opened wide and it started wailing and complaining. The number of people in this wide world who have been scolded by a Treasure Weapon mask is probably just me.
But even when a Treasure Weapon gets angry, it's not scary. It doesn't have hands or feet, and I'd already proven it can't do anything to me.
Seeing that I wasn't changing my expression, the flesh mask shuddered and trembled its cheeks.
"Seriously, you really do march to the beat of your own drum. Chatting away in the middle of enemy territory like it's nothing."
"Huh?"
"Don't tell me you haven't sensed anything!? The massive number of presences closing in on us…!"
"Oh, that again…"
I let out a deep sigh.
Well, needless to say, I hadn't sensed anything. I've never sensed anything. The concept of "sensing presences" is beyond me entirely.
I mean, if something gets really close—within a couple of meters—sure, I can kind of tell. Sometimes.
But anything more than a few meters away and I'm oblivious. I'm not a thief like Lise.
I know "sensing presences" is a thing because I've seen plenty of Treasure Hunters do it, but I have no idea how they manage it. No one will teach me. Every time I ask, they just give me a puzzled look. I guess for them it's just something you're supposed to be able to do.
I'd resigned myself to the fact that it was simply a lack of talent on my part, but finding out that even a lump of meat like this mask could do it was disheartening. Give me that ability, why don't you.
I forced on a strained smile and put on a brave front.
"Well, this is a vacation after all—"
"!? There are about three hundred of them! They're coming from the sky too!"
Yeah, right. Three hundred—even a merchant caravan wouldn't usually number that high.
Is it malfunctioning? Besides, "coming from the sky" doesn't even make sense. You might not know since you're an ancient tool, but modern humans don't just fly around, you know.
I picked up the mask and flipped it over front to back, checking for damage, when the door burst open.
Breathless and stumbling in was a naked Tino. Strictly speaking, not entirely naked—she was wearing underwear top and bottom—but at this point, who cared about that.
"!?!?!?"
Even I was at a loss for words. I'm not the kind of person who would calmly welcome a junior colleague bursting in naked.
The contrast of her fair skin against the black underwear was dazzling. But her face was pale, and her right hand was pressed against her side.
That's when I noticed that blood was flowing from Tino's abdomen—right where her palm was pressed. Dark red liquid ran down her white skin, leaving a crimson trail all the way down to her right leg.
"Mastaa!!"
Tino's expression twisted when she saw me. I was halfway to standing when she launched herself at me. The force was too great, and I toppled over, unable to brace myself.
Something soft landed on top of me. Not understanding what was happening, I felt Tino bury her face into my chest and tremble all over.
"Thank goodness… thank goodness, Mastaa! You were safe—I, no, I believed you were. But, but, they had paper bags over our heads, and I thought if something had happened to you… thank goodness, truly, thank goodness…"
I had no idea what she was talking about. Either way, I was now bare-chested with only the strap of a black bra catching on one delicate shoulder. I gently gripped Tino's shoulders and eased her off me.
Even I wasn't about to stand there going "Mm-hmm, that's right."
"Anyway, let's heal that wound first. Lie down over there."
"O… okay…"
I couldn't hope for recovery as powerful as Anthem's, but I had a recovery-type Treasure Weapon—"Compassionate Devotion."
It couldn't regenerate lost limbs, but a Treasure Weapon that could aid recovery was a precious commodity in high demand that rarely went up for sale. I'd spent my entire fortune to acquire it back when I first became a Hunter, and it had saved more than a few of my companions since.
Fortunately, Tino's wound didn't seem too deep. Whether it was from a knife or something else, at this level my Treasure Weapon should be able to heal it.
"Compassionate Devotion"—I removed the silver cross from around my neck, placed it against Tino's abdomen where she lay, against the wound, and activated it. The cross emitted a faint glow, and the wound closed up before my eyes.
But what on earth had happened? I'd only asked Tino to go get some tea. I couldn't fathom how she'd come back with a stomach wound.
Lying there, Tino looked up at me with eyes as anxious as an abandoned puppy's.
I need to be careful not to ask the wrong thing here. I know Tino's personality. I want to know what happened, but if I casually asked "Why did you get stabbed in the stomach?"—tears would be guaranteed.
I waited for the cross's light to fade, then touched her bloodied abdomen to check if the wound had healed.
As I wiped the blood away with my palm, Tino let out a little squeak and raised her right knee. The pose was awfully revealing, and I caught myself quickly averting my gaze from her lower body.
"Mmm—!"
"Ah, sorry, sorry. You're healed. How are you feeling?"
"Mm… M-Mastaa, thank you, I'm fine. The poison still remains, but… I have a tolerance from when my sister made me drink poison to build resistance. More importantly, Mastaa… ah…"
Her voice trailed off midway. Tino's face flushed bright red in an instant—she'd apparently remembered her own position.
She scrambled upright, using her hands as best she could to cover her chest and lower half. But Tino's arms are thin, so they barely concealed anything. So much for her effort to act nonchalant about it…
Fortunately, I was used to this sort of thing from Lise, so it didn't faze me. Well, saying it didn't bother me at all would be a lie, but I'm a gentleman. I'm hard-boiled.
I handed the crimson-faced, teary-eyed, frozen Tino a spare yukata. Tino accepted it with a small, trembling word of thanks, and just then, the door opened again.
"Krai, I'm back. Were things okay here…?"
It was Citry. She looked at me with her usual smile, then registered Tino putting on the yukata, and her expression froze mid-smile.
Her gaze was fixed on the trail of blood running from Tino's stomach down to her thigh. Still holding that strained smile, she spoke in a trembling, squeezed-out voice.
"…It… doesn't look like things were okay, does it? Tii-chan, even after I warned you so many times… to lay a hand on Krai… I won't forgive this. I believed in you…"
"!??!?!?? Hand—It's a misunderstanding, Big Sis Citry! I didn't do anything!!"
Did Citry really see me as that kind of person? Either way, this was a misunderstanding of monumental proportions. Poor Tino—I jumped in to help.
I'm a man, sure, and I have normal desires, but I'm not so pathetic that I'd lay a hand on an injured girl.
Something unusual had clearly happened here. This called for calm. I knew this well from the many terrible situations I'd been in during my days with the Party.
"Calm down, Citry. Relax, I seriously didn't do anything. Besides, I have no interest in Tino anyway."
"That's right! Mastaa wouldn't—!? …The… thing… to… da…"
Tino's words shrank into silence. For some reason, she looked up at me with an expression on the verge of tears.
On the contrary, Citry looked relieved and smiled, stepping into the room.
"Right… I believed that. You rarely lay a hand on me either, Krai…"
"…Whaaat!?"
"Citry, sometimes you say the most outrageous things."
Please stop talking like I'm making advances on Citry. If Tino ends up hating me, what then?
I gave the frozen Tino—still in her yukata—a pat on the head, put on a serious expression, and spoke.
"Never mind that. You said you had something to tell me, right?"
"Yes. You're right. Well… it seems we have some additional visitors…"
"…Help me… Thousand Transformations."
One after another… We sure are popular with guests today.
As if timed perfectly with Citry's words, the door opened once again.
The one who entered with a tense expression was the Thunder Dragon of the Mist—the very group I'd thought was reconciled.
Arnold, pale and convulsing, with the vice leader supporting him by the shoulder. The rest of the crew all wore rigid expressions, as if they were standing in the heart of enemy territory. Without waiting for any acknowledgment from me, they filed in and sat down on the floor of the room.
I was starting to lose my desire to ask what was going on.
Citry and Tino were one thing, but the Thunder Dragon of the Mist gathering under my roof? That didn't add up either.
But at this point, all I could do was listen.
I took a deep breath, steeled myself, and turned to Tino.
"Tino, what about the sweets and tea?"
"!? S-sorry. I was attacked on the way—"
"Ah… well, whatever. If there were something sweet I might be able to think a little clearer—but never mind tea or snacks, let's just hear what they have to say."
Wait, hold on.
"…Arnold, you don't look well at all. Why don't you go home and rest?"
In response to my concern, Arnold—laid out on the tatami—weakly raised his fist and struck the floor.