The King's Day Off
Wandering around the town of Rebeck since morning.
No particular purpose. Just drifting aimlessly.
Stopping in front of a stall.
Meat of some kind, skewered and grilled over charcoal—don’t know what it is, but it smells damn good.
"Hey, brother, how about a stick?"
The stall owner called out casually.
"Rebeck’s specialty—grilled krankadil. Lean, fresh, and tasty."
"Krankadil, huh."
Don’t know what kind of meat it is, but the description makes sense.
Actually… ever since I got here, that smell’s been making my mouth water.
"Then I’ll take one."
"Sure thing—five hundred en."
"——"
"What’s wrong, brother?"
The vendor blinked at me.
Wait… ever since I got here, he’s been calling me "brother."
Pulling out the coin I made myself—my five-hundred-en piece—and handing it over to the vendor, I take the skewer of grilled meat.
Eat it while walking.
Thinking about it again. That guy… didn’t recognize me, did he?
Walking through the market, eating skewered meat.
Look closer—most of the faces are strangers.
I remember every face of the people who were there right after freeing Rebeck from Malart.
Almost none of the people here are those ones. All new faces.
They shoved their wares at me without mercy.
Funny enough, I bought them all, one after another.
Felt like wandering a festival fair.
Stopped at a stall with no customers.
“How much for this?”
“One serving, 1,500 en.”
“Kinda pricey.”
No wonder it’s empty.
“Taste’s guaranteed.”
“Huh. Then give me one serving.”
Paid the coin, got the food.
Tried a bite. Tasted awful.
Couldn’t even call it food. Worse than Pshini. Equal in disaster.
Not because it’s expensive—because it’s expensive and terrible, that’s why no one comes.
I stood back a little, stared at the stall for a while.
No one’s even glancing over. Silence. Dead as a tomb.
“Huh… won’t last long, that one.”
Muttered that, and kept walking.
Left the market, wandered through the streets.
“Huh?”
Stopped in front of a house.
It was a wooden house made by DORECA—somehow, the door was broken.
A man who looked like a resident was fixing it.
“Hey.”
“Ah—Your Majesty.”
This time, he recognized me.
“What’s the deal with that?”
“Well… uh… I mean…”
He scratched his head, gave a nervous grin.
“Got my wife mad for a bit, that’s all.”
“Ah. So it’s a fight.”
“Yeah.”
“Huh. Can’t be helped.”
I pulled out DORECA.
He waved his hands frantically.
“No, no, Your Majesty. I can handle something like this myself.”
“Huh. You?”
"Yes. Well, it's almost done already."
I checked the door again.
Sure enough, it was nearly fixed.
"Really?"
"Yes. Something like this doesn't need to trouble the King."
"...Is that so. Then, good luck with it."
He waved at me, turned, and walked away.
☆
I wandered through Rebeck until sunset.
The town was working.
New shops had opened, bustling with trade.
Not just me or the slaves—residents were making things, fixing things, on their own.
That day, for the first time, I did nothing.
Didn’t build. Didn’t fix. Didn’t tear down.
I deliberately did nothing. Spent money—wasted it, on purpose.
And still, people smiled.
Big, bright, genuine smiles.
Right after a whole day of doing nothing, DORECA flared to life—and changed its form.
From white-gold to pitch black. DORECA had evolved into the Black Card.