Who Says I’m Not a Legitimate Adventurer?

On the other side of the bar counter—

Hakon, his eyes bleary with drunkenness, casually swept his gaze toward the corner.

When he saw Lance sitting there quietly eating meat, an expression of displeasure immediately appeared on his face.

He recognized Lance—the guy mocked in this tavern as the “pretty boy Scribe.”

“Tch, pretty boy…”

He tilted his head back and gulped down a mouthful of ale. The stimulation of alcohol caused the image of that outsider Adventurer who had stolen his lover to gradually overlap with this clean-cut Scribe before him.

Coupled with the fact that he had just heard that this kid even enjoyed special treatment from Amber—

The nameless anger in his heart instantly became impossible to suppress.

Hakon staggered to his feet, relying on the alcohol’s influence, and walked straight toward Lance.