"Do I just turn here?"
"……Yes……"
A weak voice drifted from my back. It belonged to the boy from the open-air market stall—the one who’d been selling fake silver jewelry, nearly cornered by angry adventurers until Neneva intervened.
He’d been dangerously weak, but a dose of my special potion had done enough to get him talking.
He still couldn't walk on his own, though, so he was currently hitched to my back. Graymond followed behind, carrying the boy's gear. It would have been a lot easier to just toss it all into my [Storage Space], but I could hardly go around revealing my hidden skills to a complete stranger.
"This street feels a bit... lonely, doesn't it?"
Neneva, the only one of us traveling light, frowned as we stepped into a narrow alley. We’d spent the whole day in crowded tourist spots, so the sight of a dilapidated slum in the heart of the Asterion Sword Kingdom seemed to catch her off guard.
The air grew damp as we moved deeper. The houses lining the alley were ancient and crumbling, a stark testament to the poverty of the people living within.
"Ah... over there..."
A thin finger pointed toward an apartment building that looked particularly worse for wear, even by this neighborhood's standards. Beside the entrance, an old woman in rags that hadn't been washed in years sat staring vacantly into space.
"Which floor?"
"The second..."
The front door was left wide open. As we passed the old woman, a sour, stale odor hit us, followed by her rasping voice.
"Welcome back, Rag."
"I'm home..." the boy on my back whispered.
So his name was Rag.
We climbed the stairs to the second floor. Neneva hugged her arms to her chest, likely because the entire building felt damp and even colder than the streets outside.
"This is it..."
Rag pointed toward a door. Neneva stepped forward, knocked twice, and spoke in her most dignified voice.
"Excuse me! Rag-kun collapsed at the market, so we've brought him home!"
There was a clatter from inside, followed by the heavy, uneven thuds of someone limping toward the door.
The knob turned, and the door swung open to reveal a man with long hair. This was Rag’s father.
"Rag...!?"
"He's right here," I said, turning so he could see my back. "He fainted at the market and couldn't walk, so we brought him back. He’s still not in any state to stand. May we come in?"
"I... I’m so sorry. The place is a mess, but please, enter..."
Rag-papa turned and hobbled down the hallway. He dragged his leg with a heavy, rhythmic thud. Just watching him go, I could guess why Rag had been out at the market trying to run a stall on his own.
The man was crippled—barely able to move, let alone work.
The interior was split into a dining hall and two small rooms. Just as the father had warned, it was a wreck. It was the kind of home that belonged to someone who had long since lost the will to keep things clean.
We went into a room with two side-by-side beds and laid Rag down. The father sat on the opposite bed, his face etched with worry. He was just as gaunt as his son, his cheeks sunken and hollow.
"Thank you. Truly... I don't know how I can ever repay you..."
Rag-papa stood and bowed his head low.
"Don't even worry about it!" Neneva said, puffing out her chest since she was the only one not carrying anything. "Walt and Graymond are strong! This was nothing for them!"
The father bowed again.
I pulled three bottles of my special potion from my pack and set them on the small round table by the bed.
"Give him one of these a day. They’re full of nutrients, so he should be back on his feet soon. However—"
I paused, glancing toward the dining hall before meeting the father's eyes.
"—if you don't make sure he actually eats, this is just going to happen again."
"I know..."
The father looked away, his expression one of deep, crushing resignation.
"Would you mind telling us what happened?" Neneva asked softly. "I'd feel wrong just leaving things like this."
"It’s a shameful story... but I will tell you."
Rag-papa sank slowly onto the bed and began to speak in a hollow, dejected voice.
Rag’s parents had both been swordsmen in a mercenary band based here in the Asterion Sword Kingdom. I was a bit surprised to hear the mother had been a Swordsman, but apparently, that wasn't unusual in this country. Just part of the local culture, I guess.
The family hadn't been rich, but they’d lived a comfortable enough life. Until two years ago.
That was when a "Parade" had broken out in a dungeon to the south. A Parade is a phenomenon where a mutant monster king leads a literal army from the depths, charging back up through the dungeon toward the surface.
If left unchecked, the monsters would spill out into the world. The standard response is to form a defensive line at the entrance and hold them back at all costs.
Of course, those battles are legendary for their brutality. Knight orders and mercenary bands throw themselves into the meat grinder to stop an endless march of monsters.
The Parade two years ago had shattered Rag’s family. His mother had been killed, and his father had been gravely wounded. He’d survived, but his right leg had been left with permanent damage that made it nearly impossible to walk.
They’d lived off their savings for a while, but once the money ran out, the debts started piling up.
Their only glimmer of hope was when Rag was granted the rare [Alchemist] job. He was talented, too; he’d learned [Alloy Creation] almost immediately. And that was when the desperation had taken hold.
"Even as an apprentice alchemist... the pay was so low..." Rag said, picking up the story from his father. "But the tourists loved the fake silver jewelry. In a single day, I could make more than I'd see in a month as an apprentice."
"Then why were you starving yourself?" Neneva asked.
"Most of what I made at the market... the debt collectors took it all."
It was a vicious cycle. If things didn't change, Rag would spend the rest of his life as a tool for debt collectors, barely scraping by while trying to support his father. He was only fifteen, and yet he already had no hope for the future.
A few strokes of bad luck, and suddenly you’re in a hole you can never climb out of.
If Rag were alone, he might have been able to run, but he had his father to think about. He wasn't the type to abandon family.
I looked at the father. He sat hunched over on the bed. He was probably only in his thirties, but he looked like an old man. No medicine can fix an injury that's two years old. I wanted to help, but—
"Rag-papa, let me see that leg! I think I can do something about it!"
Neneva, who had been listening in silence, suddenly shouted. Rag’s father jumped, nearly falling backward in surprise.
"No, really... Recovery magic didn't work on it back then, so..."
"It’s fine! Just roll up your pants!"
Swept up by Neneva’s intensity, the father rolled up his right trouser leg. His ankle was horribly mangled and distorted. It was swollen a deep purple, looking as painful now as the day it happened.
Neneva knelt on the floor and placed her hand over the injury.
"O Great Hand, take away the suffering of the innocent. With the Healing Breath, let this body walk once more."
A pale blue light enveloped Neneva’s hand, flickering like a flame before flowing into the man’s leg. His entire body was suddenly bathed in a brilliant light that pulsed several times before fading into the air.
"...Whew. How does it feel?"
Neneva wiped the sweat from her brow and looked up. Rag’s father was staring at his leg, his eyes wide with shock.
"What... what is this?"
The ankle that had been so twisted it was hard to look at was now perfectly straight, as if time itself had been reversed. The purple swelling was gone, replaced by healthy, clear skin.
"Try walking."
"Yes... alright..."
Rag-papa stood up tentatively. He took a few steps toward the dining hall, then turned and walked back into the room. Rag had pulled himself up in bed, watching the miracle unfold with a look of utter disbelief.
The father walked right up to Neneva, dropped to his knees, and clasped his hands in a deep bow.
"Thank you... thank you so much..."
"Wait, stop! Don't be so dramatic! It’s just a type of recovery magic!"
Neneva’s face turned bright red, but she couldn't hide her happy grin.
"Father...!"
Rag practically tumbled out of bed to throw his arms around him. The two of them clung to each other, sobbing as if a dam had burst.
For a couple of guys, they sure were quick to cry. Pathetic...
"Heh. I see even Walt has a soft spot."
"Shut up."
Before I knew it, everyone in the room was wiping their eyes and sniffing their noses.