Chapter 103

Chapter 103
## Chapter 103: Never Mind The Heir, I’ll Focus On Healing

The junior attendant faced a new turning point today.

It was all because of the malt sitting right in front of him.

He had wondered why the Young Master kept making trips to the well lately, and it turned out he was cultivating malt, the core component for brewing beer.

*‘I cannot fathom why he insists on doing this personally…’*

After keeping tabs on the matter for a few days, he heard whispers that the First Young Master was rather eccentric.

He was only coming to terms with this now, having lived a sheltered life away from gossip before becoming an assistant in the Asteri household.

However…

*‘This appears to have failed.’*

The barley sprouts had grown, perhaps excessively so.

It reached a stage where he questioned whether healthy barley was even supposed to stretch out quite like this.

The underlying issue was that the Young Master seemed oblivious to these finer points, simply admiring the tall sprouts with a bright, cheerful grin.

*‘Should I voice my concerns?’*

Judging by his temperament, the Young Master did not strike him as an unreasonable person, so he figured an honest, polite warning would be well-received.

Eventually, the attendant decided to speak his mind.

“Um… Young Master. My apologies, but for brewing purposes, the sprouts ought to be a bit shorter than this…”

Before he could finish explaining, Lion interrupted with a ready reply.

“Ah, this isn’t intended for beer.”

“It isn’t?”

“Indeed. Though you seem remarkably knowledgeable about brewing?”

“Ah. My father operates a local brewery. I picked up a thing or two by watching him work.”

“Oh ho. What is your name?”

Fortunately, the Young Master’s mood remained entirely unruffled.

“Ah, I am called Buck. Yes.”

Lion’s gaze flickered with sudden, calculating intensity.

*‘This could blossom into a tremendously useful relationship!’*

Buck, entirely oblivious to that piercing stare, went back to inspecting the germinated grain.

*‘If this isn’t meant to be malt, then what on earth is it?’*

His practical experience failed to conjure any alternative explanation.

“You seem quite curious?”

“Yes, very much so. This is my first time witnessing anything of the sort.”

“Hoo hoo hoo… I shall reward you with a drink later if this experiment succeeds.”

“Pardon? Ah…”

Nothing good would come of that concoction.

He would consider himself lucky if the batch did not rot entirely.

“In any case, would you mind keeping an eye on this barley until it dries completely?”

Right. No matter how peculiar the Young Master happened to be, he would hardly feed someone spoiled ingredients.

The attendant offered a respectful bow and answered.

“Oh goodness, if it is the Young Master’s wish, consider it done! You may rely on me entirely!”

“Splendid. Until later, then.”

With that, Lion left Buck in charge of the grain and walked away.

*‘…Eh? But why is he omitting the food delivery today?’*

Buck, still bowed in respect, suddenly realized that Lion had neglected to bring any meat dishes this time.

*‘Could it be part of some specialized ritual?’*

As Buck stood pondering, another junior servant snuck up and nudged him in the ribs.

“Word is that anyone foolish enough to try and second-guess the superiors ends up punished.”

“Oh dear. You are quite right.”

Buck nodded and promptly returned to his assigned duties.

Indeed. His only concern should be tending to his own work with diligence.

—

When night fell.

Barg slowly unsealed his eyes and surveyed his surroundings.

*‘Everyone appears to be fast asleep…’*

Avoiding any sudden movements, Barg confirmed that his companions were deep in slumber with a subtle sweep of his gaze, then quietly slipped out of the quarters.

As he tiptoed toward the door to ease it open…

“Grrr… Where do you think you’re sneaking off to?”

“Hk.”

Jake muttered sleepily from his mat.

“T-t-to the privy.”

“Mm, fine.”

“Do close the door behind you…” Jake mumbled before instantly sliding back into profound slumber.

*‘Phew.’*

As expected, the man was no ordinary warrior.

Barg managed a silent breath of relief, gently pulled the door shut, and stepped out into the night air.

“Sip.”

Ah.

Barg drew a deep breath. The moonlight felt unusually harsh and piercing tonight, causing him to knit his brow in slight irritation.

*‘Is a full moon approaching?’*

It was typically a night known for exacerbating a werewolf’s feral instincts, but it brought Barg no comfort.

*‘For reasons unknown, my constitution falters whenever I lay eyes on the moon.’*

His mood soured instantly, leaving him uncharacteristically sensitive.

His hidden ears and tail involuntarily pricked outward, his body growing stiff as his muscles and bones throbbed with latent strain.

Creak.

Barg rubbed his aching arm as he resumed his slow walk.

His destination was the familiar spot where Lion routinely left portions of meat.

*‘There was nothing left today.’*

Perhaps he had finally become a nuisance to the master of the house.

Furthermore, meat was a luxury commodity, so an abrupt halt to the provisions was hardly unthinkable.

Naturally, a deep sense of disappointment lingered, coupled with regret that the situation had concluded without a proper chance to make amends.

And so, Barg resolved to return the kindness in his own manner.

Swish.

Barg deposited a small, luminous bead onto the usual flat stone.

It glowed with a soft, steady radiance, closely mirroring a miniature full moon.

“I apologize. I attempted to prepare a midday meal as well, but circumstances prevented it.”

Barg scratched a clumsy message into the dirt nearby using a fallen twig.

It might wash away or warp by morning, but he wished to express his gratitude through concrete means.

Namely, the most valuable compensation he could offer.

Essence of the Moon.

It was a rare, coveted treasure that only beastmen tied directly to lunar heritage could manufacture.

Possessing the Moon’s Essence allowed one to recover from severe trauma and dramatically elevate their innate capacities overnight.

Yet.

*‘I have no use for it myself.’*

Curiously enough, Barg’s own power tended to wither whenever he came into contact with lunar-derived artifacts.

It always felt as though energy would surge momentarily, only to drain away completely, leaving him frail and exhausted.

Finding no logical explanation, he had simply resigned himself to living with it as though it were some lingering adolescent ailment.

With no kindred beastmen nearby to consult, let alone members of the Red Wolf tribe, he was entirely on his own.

Even so, after spending grueling days gathering his energy to distill this tiny droplet of Moon’s Essence, he still desired to repay the hospitality shown to him.

“If only I had managed to finish this a bit sooner.”

Just as he pushed himself up, silently berating his own tardiness…

“Peep.”

A sharp, clear chirp echoed through the clearing.

*‘Huh…’*

Instantly, a strange, soothing warmth washed over his limbs. Startled by the sudden sensation, Barg scanned the shadows.

There he spotted a tiny, yellow bird-like entity.

No, wait…

*‘That is no ordinary bird…’*

Instinct whispered to Barg that this creature defied natural categorization.

*‘A spirit?’*

The question surfaced unbidden, though he lacked the context to explore it further.

“Ppippi.”

The yellow entity gripped the small bead of Moon’s Essence with one claw, fluttering its wings gently as if signaling him to follow.

Standard survival sense dictated that one should never trail after suspicious entities, be they beast or man, but perhaps drawn by the aura of the spirit, Barg found himself utterly entranced, stepping forward in a trance.

With each step he took, he realized he was inadvertently walking past the estate boundaries…

“Oh, wait, hold on…”

He certainly had not intended to wander outside the safety of the mansion grounds.

Wasn’t this crossing the line from skipping out to outright desertion? This was abandonment of post!

As Barg hesitated for a fraction of a second.

Peck!

Peck, peck!

The spirit swooped down, tapping sharply against Barg’s nose like an impatient woodpecker to register its displeasure.

It even opened its beak to deliver a light nip to his skin.

Though the physical impact was negligible.

“Ah, very well, I am coming.”

Barg resumed his march, soon finding himself at the edge of the Mimir Forest.

*‘This is going too far…’*

He could already picture the severe reprimand awaiting him.

“Eh?”

Yet, a bizarre phenomenon occurred.

As they penetrated deeper into the woods, his physical malaise—which usually flared up under the open moonlight—vanished entirely, replaced by a soothing calm.

Was it because the thick canopy of leaves blocked the lunar glare?

That was not all.

Barg’s acute sense of smell suddenly caught a rich, mouth-watering aroma drifting through the air.

And then.

*‘S-smells like meat?’*

The scent of roasted meat at this hour of the night?

In the middle of a dense forest, no less?

Overwhelmed by curiosity, Barg’s feet continued forward of their own accord.

Having come this far, turning back felt entirely pointless.

At the very least, he needed to uncover the truth behind this bizarre midnight excursion.

Fortunately, Barg’s intuition proved accurate.

A wave of cozy warmth washed over the clearing ahead.

“You have arrived.”

A relaxed voice greeted him from the fireside.

It was a deeply familiar face.

The very same Young Master who had confiscated his barley, and the benefactor who had supplied him with savory meals until now.

Lion Asteri.

He sat waiting right there.

It was a truly surreal tableau.

Despite being deep within a dark forest where the overhead leaves fractured the moonlight into thin silver threads, the immediate vicinity surrounding the Young Master and a steaming natural hot spring glowed with a faint, magical luminescence.

Furthermore, exotic flora emitting a sweet, soothing fragrance grew in dense clusters nearby.

Yet, despite such a majestic backdrop, the Young Master outshone every element in the clearing.

Uncannily so.

It felt less like reality and more like a fever dream.

Had he perhaps fallen asleep on his quarters’ floor and drifted into a dreamscape?

Just as that thought crossed his mind.

Sizzle.

A distinct, sizzling sound reached his ears.

Lowering his gaze slightly…

The Young Master was busy flipping skewers of food atop a flat stone griddle.

Sausage skewers.

“Ah. This is definitely a dream.”

Barg let out a breath of profound relief.

The entire scenario was far too absurd!

He had chased a spirit bird into a dream realm, only to encounter the exact person he wished to offer apologies to.

And that person was casually roasting gourmet street food over an open fire.

Reality did not accommodate such convenient coincidences.

*‘Phew.’*

What a relief it was just a dream, then.

Barg ambled toward Lion with a lightened heart, entirely at ease.

At least he would get to look the boy in the eye and offer a proper apology, even if it was only within the confines of a sleeping mind!

—

A few hours prior to Barg’s arrival.

“Hoo.”

Lion had concluded all necessary preparations.

In short, he had meticulously engineered a trap designed to reel in that elusive werewolf.

*‘Operation designation: Wolf Fishing.’*

Though grand in title, the execution relied on simple, elegant mechanics.

First, upon the werewolf’s emergence into the night, the Ancient Spirit Nature would step forward to act as the primary lure.

The Red Wolf beastman possessed an instinctive, hardwired attraction toward the Ancient Spirit due to the potential awakening of dormant druidic traits within his bloodline.

Thus, he would be guided smoothly toward the heart of the Mimir Forest.

From there, he would be escorted precisely to this thermal spring…

*‘Where our paths will cross.’*

Of course, a simple meeting felt a bit lacking in flair, so Lion had gone the extra mile to curate a specialized menu for the occasion.

Namely, these sausages.

*‘I managed this efficiently thanks to Alex’s prompt assistance.’*

Crafting sausages from scratch proved surprisingly tedious.

The primary bottleneck lay in securing proper casings.

In his previous existence, synthetic edible collagen casings were readily available, but here, genuine animal intestines—specifically from pigs or sheep—were an absolute requirement.

Since internal organs like tripe and large intestines frequently appeared on dining tables, the local populace held no aversion to them, but absolute freshness remained a critical hurdle.

Neglecting proper hygiene meant the meat spoiled within hours.

Particularly when intended for immediate consumption without heavy curing or salt preservation.

Consequently, casing preparation was traditionally handled exclusively by professional slaughterhouses or master butchers.

However, this was no ordinary establishment.

This was the Asteri household, a lineage second to none across the entire Empire.

Fresh, pristine intestines had been meticulously cleaned, scraped, and prepared by Alex himself.

“I could have handled the cleaning process personally, you know…”

“Absolutely not! Under no circumstances could I ever permit you to dirty your hands with such vulgar tasks, Young Master!”

“Th-that is rather excessive…”

“Never.”

“Th-thank you for your dedication?”

He had spent countless hours scaling and gutting fish down in the labyrinth anyway, making the process feel entirely trivial to him, but lacking any polite way to explain that background, he decided to accept the devotion with a grateful nod.

Thus, the final task boiled down to stuffing the well-prepared casings with the finely minced, highly seasoned filling.

Though without proper mechanical sausage stuffers, the manual labor proved somewhat demanding.

“Sip.”