A Gentle Noble's Vacation Recommendation

Hello, everyone.

It’s me, your beloved host. Just kidding, I got a bit cocky there. I’m the one who received the title “host” from a noble guest.

When that person first called me that, I was like, “Eek!” I just couldn’t accept the fact that they called me that—with an honorific, no less. I couldn’t understand why they spoke to me as an equal. Even though it’s my inn, I somehow felt completely out of place. It was awful.

But now, after doing my best as everyone’s proud host and seeing off that noble guest,

“I feel so lonely…!!”

I’m experiencing severe guest withdrawal. It’s so lonely that sometimes I find myself collapsing onto the inn’s floor.

“I’ve never felt like this before…!”

“If you felt like that every time a guest left, you’d have to close down the inn.”

While lamenting with a glass of ale in hand, my friends in the same trade tried to comfort me. Well, was it really comfort?

Today, a small group of us who had some free time gathered for a drinking party. My last guest left this morning, so I have some time. Time to drum up some business.

“Well, those people were pretty intense, weren’t they?”

“Yeah, like going from the extraordinary back to the ordinary?”

“Did you feel any sense of relief?”

“For a split second.”

It really was only a moment.

After that, this feeling hit me—the indescribable urge.

“Maybe it’s because I got used to luxury.”

“That’s it.”

I agreed with a straight face without realizing it.

“When you were walking outside with them, you didn’t look that displeased, right?”

“You had that superiority complex written all over you.”

“But then you acted all pretentious in front of them.”

“Don’t say that!!”

I’m aware of it.

Because I could feel all the eyes focused on me. Yet, the guests seemed completely oblivious to it as they calmly walked on, even smiling at me.

“But that smile! That smile—how many people have to be great for you to get that smile? The fact that it was directed at me!”

“Overwhelming commoner vibes.”

“Well, I kind of get it.”

I slammed my ale glass on the table and yelled, getting agreement in return.

Of course. Noble guests are definitely from the royal family or aristocracy; I still can’t believe they’re adventurers. Though they seemed to be enjoying themselves.

That person often said, “I’m just an ordinary adventurer,” with a hint of pride. But why so proud? Isn’t the point of pride somewhere else?

“Your reputation has also quietly grown.”

“Ah, maybe. When I walk around, kids point and say stuff like, ‘Oh, that’s the prince’s friend.’”

“The prince?”

“They call me that around my neighborhood.”

By the way, I’ve also been getting more attention from women.

I’m incredibly happy about that. But thinking that those opportunities might decrease is tough.

“Our princes don’t stand a chance.”

“You mean the prince in the picture book is that guy, right?”

“Here’s your skewers—enjoy!”

“Yay!”

Everyone reached out for more from the plates the bar staff left. We don’t believe in “one per person,” so keeping extras is a must.

“Prince, huh.”

Someone muttered that happily.

Looking around to see who said it, I caught the eye of a bar staff member who smiled slyly. What’s with that guy?

“If my brother hadn’t stopped me, I’d have talked to you too.”

He fanned his face with the tray that held the plates, answered orders from other tables crisply, and left.

Have I seen that guy here before?

“What’s up?”

“Nothing.”

Well, whatever.

“So, what’s the real deal?”

“Huh?”

“Could it be that he’s actually some prince?”

“By all means!”

As I bit into the skewer and looked up, even my not-so-sharp friends finally caught on.

Yes, it was clear as day that the noble guest, despite obviously being from the royal family, never once confirmed it.

“The noble guest was so prince-like that my inner princess almost woke up a few times!”

“You have a princess sleeping inside you?”