Chapter 152: Finally, a Break…
Dylan’s POV
The six of them stepped into the inn, and strangely enough—despite its reputation—the place felt almost deserted. A few patrons were scattered across the room, but many chairs remained flipped atop the wooden tables. Dust coated the furniture in a way that betrayed a recent abandonment, as if the place had stopped breathing for a while.
Dylan walked in the middle of the group, flanked by Jonas and the bearded man. The girls had instinctively formed their own cluster. Soon, each of them was guided by one of the inn’s servants toward the available rooms. There, at last, they could drop their gear... and prepare for a bath.
The suitcase on Dylan’s back wasn’t particularly heavy—just dirty clothes and a few survival items—but it carried the weight of accumulated exhaustion. Physical and mental. He had reached a milestone, a place of rest. All he wanted was to set it down and, for the first time in a long while, just sit still.
He lifted his feet carefully, dodging the wobbly floorboards of the staircase as he followed the young woman leading him. Her outfit was the epitome of worn-out inn clichés: black dress, wrinkled white apron, red hair tied back in a loose bun. She looked dusty, as if their arrival had interrupted a cleaning session she wasn’t particularly enthusiastic about.
Suddenly, she stopped short. Dylan nearly walked into her.
She turned slightly, green eyes meeting his with no real emotion.
"I’m sorry... I can’t take you any farther. Go up and pick three rooms that look comfortable. Make yourselves at home, please."
Her voice was flat, almost mechanical. Like someone reciting a line they’d grown too tired of saying. No smile, no anger. Just the weariness of a routine too old to question.
"Money... always about money," Dylan thought, his gaze momentarily caught by the freckles scattered across her face like an autumn sky.
He gave her a light smile, just enough to ease the tension. Softened his voice, let a playful note slip in: