Culture…?

On the last day of the Month of the Demon God, preparations for the festival were in full swing.

It was said that this continent began its thanksgiving ceremony on this day to celebrate safely starting another year. However, this time, even the beastkin were participating in preparing for the festival.

They had been bustling about for several days and completed their grand preparations just in time for the final day. Watching slaves and beastkin working together cheerfully to prepare various things left quite an impression.

“Does it look good to you?”

“Of course. Think about how the continent used to view beastkin—this sight right now could be called nothing short of a miracle.”

“That’s true. It’s strange… I never thought our neighbors would ever be beastkin.”

“If not for the Month of the Demon God, they would’ve long become another race living among humans. But because of the rampage, the unavoidable sacrifices drove them apart.”

“I hope they can stay happy from now on.”

“I agree.”

The continent was still divided between humans and demons. Countless lives were probably being lost under the banner of war each day, and even Count Branne, who had left long ago, was likely living through the chaos of that same battlefield.

If not, he might already have been struck down by a stray arrow or blade.

“But even on a day like this, there are plenty of merchants, huh?”

A tower had been built at the entrance where multiple carriages could be parked. The tightly packed lines of merchant wagons and the street stalls and shops along the outer wall of the manor showed just how much this place had changed. Benny looked me up and down and said,

“You seem to have gained some weight lately.”

“Really? I don’t look bad, do I?”

“It’s just right, though… maybe a little thin?”

After the collapse last time, my maid and Vincent had become overly concerned about what I ate.

Whenever I went out, they even checked whether I carried a pouch of mana recovery pills.

I couldn’t understand why they’d go so far, even scolding me for being “irreverent” if I got annoyed. Still, since it was out of concern, I let it slide with a smile—but according to my own belief that strength should be used when needed, I refused to compromise on carrying at least two tablets with me.

‘Strange though… mana recovery potions have no side effects.’

Could it be that side effects arose because magical energy itself wasn’t compatible with living beings?

That thought made me seriously consider studying mana in detail—until Benny suddenly tugged at my sleeve. When I asked why, she said with a serious face,

“It’s mealtime. If you skip again, I’ll get scolded, so come on!”

She didn’t say who would scold her, but I wasn’t particularly hungry anyway. I was about to make an excuse, but Benny spoke first.

“No excuses, no skipping meals! Everything’s for you, Lord. Please, I’m begging you. Okay?”

She looked up at me with catlike eyes. There was no way to find that kind of constraint anything but adorable, so I nodded and followed her to the dining hall.

‘You’re cute, so I’ll let it slide…’

With that thought, I finished a simple meal and was finally free again.

“How did Demina know I was heading out?”

“It’s my duty.”

After leaving Benny behind, I found Demina had appeared to accompany me. Perhaps she planned to follow me alone today?

No other beastkin were in sight, but I didn’t mind that.

“So, Demina, what should we do? The festival is tomorrow, but there’s plenty to see already.”

“Just watching humans not keeping their distance from beastkin is joyful enough, I think.”

“That’s true. Still, that’s not much of a festival eve, is it? Let’s go.”

It was still early before nightfall. Yet seeing beastkin and humans sitting side by side at stalls and trading along the streets made me think that our efforts were clearly paying off.

Around mid–Month of the Demon God, a merchant had once bartered minor trinkets and crafts for herbs from the Forest of the Demon Dragon. Using that as precedent, I established a system—if they brought those herbs to the lord’s manor, I’d exchange them for gold coins, teaching both trade and fair value in the process.

In truth, it could’ve been a loss for me, but the “exchange rate” was already skewed in my favor.

I classified herbs into high, medium, and low grades—five, three, and one gold coin respectively. Yet even the lowest-grade herbs from the Forest of the Demon Dragon could be processed into medicines worth at least ten gold coins. In the end, it was always profitable.

Some might think it a loss, as they were used to giving such things away for free, but by educating them about the real worth of their herbs, I aimed to improve the beastkin’s quality of life.

Eventually, I even planned to impose taxes on them, integrating them fully into the system.

For now, though, I had to ensure no one else cheated them, so I personally conducted this “education.”

Any merchant found taking unfair advantage of beastkin would be blacklisted and permanently banned from entering Ingrad Domain. These measures ensured that everyone could now smile at one another genuinely.

Demina hesitated, so I decided we’d start by sampling the street food stalls nearby.

Well—more accurately, I ate while Demina simply watched me. Finding it odd, I asked,

“Are you on a diet or something? Why won’t you eat when I’m offering?”

“I rarely eat outside my set portions. Still, I appreciate the thought.”

It was strange—such delicious aromas everywhere, and yet she refused to eat.

What intrigued me even more was the sheer variety of foods available. Despite the massive crowd, almost no dishes were repeated between stalls.

With so many vendors, the lack of overlap suggested that the merchants all hailed from different regions.

That thought made me curious, so I approached a nearby merchant, slipped him a silver coin, and asked,

“May I ask you something? Do you happen to know what merchants from the southern regions look like?”

The merchant glanced around, then pointed toward a woman.

“I don’t know about merchants, but that woman over there dresses like someone from the south. Why not ask her?”

Following his gesture, I saw a woman wearing slightly exotic clothing, flanked by several escorts—likely a noble or wealthy trader.

I thanked the merchant and headed her way. Demina asked,

“Why ask about the south?”

“Oh, I’m looking for something specific.”

I figured that if climates were similar across this world, then vegetation might be similar too. Approaching the woman, I noticed she was sharply observing nearby merchants and beastkin—perhaps conducting her own market survey. I greeted her.

“Excuse me, do you have a moment?”

She turned toward me, surprise flickering across her face when she noticed I was accompanied by a beastkin woman. Wariness briefly crossed her eyes before she nodded.

“What is this about?”

She was tanned, as expected from someone of the south, and her emerald-green eyes gave off a mysterious aura. Unfortunately, her features were mostly obscured by a turban-like veil.

“By any chance, are you from the south?”

“As you can see… yes. But why do you ask?”

“One moment… do you know anything about ‘tea,’ ‘cha,’ or ‘coffee’?”

At my words, her eyes widened slightly, and she nodded. I nearly cheered inwardly, struggling to contain my excitement as I spoke again.

“Since you know at least one of those, I’d like to talk in more detail. Would that be possible?”

“…I don’t have much time. Coming here was already pushing my schedule, and I’m searching for something, so I can’t linger.”

A polite refusal—but I couldn’t let the chance slip away.

“May I ask what you’re looking for? I can procure almost anything.”

That seemed to catch her off guard. She glanced at the man beside her, who frowned thoughtfully before whispering something to her.

Perhaps he handled her trade affairs.

“One hour. Will that do?”

“Of course! Let’s go. My place is nearby.”

When I said that and started walking, the southern woman followed curiously. Upon realizing my destination was the lord’s manor, she looked surprised.

“Do you work here?”

“That’s right. It’s where I mainly conduct my work.”

At that, she asked an unexpected question.

“Are you… close to the lord?”

How should I respond to that?

After a brief hesitation, I asked,

“The item you’re searching for—is it alcohol, or medicine?”

“That’s correct. Medicine is quite rare in the south. Herbs don’t grow well there, so we import them from other regions at great cost. I heard that medicine from Ingrad lasts much longer in storage, so I was trying to find someone who could sell me as much as possible.”

“It must’ve been difficult to find staff from the manor—mostly maids and servants, I imagine. So you were waiting around, then?”

“Well… yes, you could say that. Are you one of the servants here?”

“Servant?”

At my response, Demina, who had been listening quietly, chuckled. Her slight lisp, caused by her fangs, made the laugh distinct. The southern woman and her entourage looked confused, so I decided I’d better clarify.

“I didn’t mean to deceive you. I’m the Viscount of Ingrad. A pleasure to meet you.”

The southerners immediately bowed in shock. I told them to rise and led them to the reception room.

“It’s modest, but please sit. Allow me to introduce myself properly—I’m Jin-woo, Lord of Ingrad. And you are?”

“My apologies. I am Idlen Tichel of the Dust of Sands Trading Company, active in the southern regions.”

She had a surname but wasn’t a noble. Still, judging by her composure, she must’ve represented the company herself.

“Nice to meet you. Then, may I ask my questions first?”

“I’ll answer as best I can.”

With a calm, serious expression, Idlen sat upright. I instructed a maid to bring paper and a quill and began sketching right away.

My first question was about coffee beans.