A Gentle Noble's Vacation Recommendation

An Inn in the Capital City.

The inn, located close to the adventurers' guild, catered almost exclusively to adventurers, and this one was no exception; every guest was an adventurer. Even in the early morning, normally a quiet time, it was bustling with the commotion of those preparing to head to the guild.

Shouts to wake up lazy companions, squabbles breaking out from shoulders bumping—probably due to nervousness—and loud demands for breakfast as adventurers hurried to the dining hall. Amidst it all, the staff’s shrill cries echoed, questioning why even a dog could obey “wait,” yet these adventurers could not. For inns catering to adventurers, cheapness was the top priority; service was almost nonexistent.

Amidst such noise, through the door—and indeed, within the large shared room—Ain and his group were all crammed into cramped bunk beds. They were awake but showed no intention of getting up.

“...Mornin’—”

One of them finally managed to raise his voice with what seemed like a great effort.

It was a faint voice, barely stronger than a slime crawling. The bunk beds they lay upon had long since abandoned any notion of clear pathways, packed tightly into the room. Thanks to this, the voice barely reached their party members.

“No way...”

“My head hurts...”

“I’m gonna die...”

Even other adventurers sharing the room had no sympathy for the bedraggled scene.

For adventurers, this was part of daily life. The aftermath of drinking past their limits was so common that it was joked about whether there was ever a day when no adventurer in the Capital City was in this state.

If they could drink that much, it was proof the quest had gone well.

“You said you’d take the quest, didn’t you...”

“Ahh...”

“Gotta pay the inn fee...”

Yet it was also proof they had emptied their pockets on booze.

They were day-to-day adventurers. They had to keep enough money for essentials, or they wouldn’t be able to take on any quests. While they barely touched that, they never had money leftover for the next day. They tried hard if there was equipment they wanted.

But sometimes, things couldn’t be helped. Like this very moment—when the prepaid inn fees were all used up. If they didn’t pay more, they’d be kicked out.

“Ugh, that’s so annoying...”

“Don’t care...”

“Ah...”

But some things just couldn’t be helped.

Trying to enter the labyrinth in this state was pointless; they’d likely throw up on the carriage and get beaten up before even reaching it. Ain and the group concluded as much, and fully postponed their problem, falling back asleep to escape their hangovers.

The next morning, having fully recovered by making full use of their youth, Ain and the others stormed the innkeeper.

They pleaded to stay on credit, promising to earn money now and pay later. The problem they had put off wasn’t gone; it stood obstinately in front of them, demanding resolution.

It was worth a shot; trying was free, and this was already the third time they asked for credit. So, it was a long shot. They were close to being refused.

“We’re gonna make bank today!”

“Seriously, things have been going great for us lately!”

Their unintentionally intimidating voices, combined with all four surrounding the innkeeper, looked like a classic shakedown.

However, the innkeeper—a burly former adventurer—was neither intimidated nor ignorant of adventurers' ways.

Sometimes, he took pity and even helped with labyrinth matters. If asked, he’d give advice as a former rank b adventurer. But that was why he knew well.

“You drunk all your inn fees away, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“Was good.”

And then they were kicked out.

“Cheap old man!”

“If we don’t earn, it’s sleeping rough for us.”

“What about the next inn?”

“Like, behind that armor shop, maybe?”

One reason many adventurers had no fixed inn was this.

Sometimes they voluntarily left due to conflicts, but mostly they were kicked out. Still, there was an unspoken understanding among adventurers that this was normal, so being kicked out or kicking others out wasn’t taken too seriously.