Nicknames

"Since Lorenzo and I have already given her our gifts, what about you, you booze-loving monk?"

Once Fern finally accepted it, Frieren turned to ask Heiter.

"Of course I prepared a gift too, but you may have to take Fern to the Holy City for it."

Heiter answered without a hint of haste.

"The Holy City?"

Fern was puzzled.

"Here's the address. You'll find out when you get there."

Heiter handed Lorenzo a slip of paper with the address written on it, then hurried them into setting off.

On the road, the three who had been "chased out" once again set out for the Holy City.

"Do you know the place Master Heiter mentioned, Master Lorenzo?"

Fern asked.

"I do, and Frieren probably knows it too."

Lorenzo stared at the address on the slip, a strange look on his face.

"I know it too?"

Frieren, who had been leafing through a grimoire beside him, looked up and took the slip for a glance.

"Oh, that place."

What place?

Watching the two of them talk as if they were speaking in riddles, Fern puffed out her cheeks, looking quite displeased.

"So what kind of place is it?"

"A tailor shop. And Fern, remember to wear that purple mushroom brooch."

"You mean Übel is there too?"

The green-haired girl with a mischievous grin always on her face sprang to mind.

"Of course. It is Übel's family's tailor shop, after all."

Lorenzo nodded.

"Übel's family runs a tailor shop?"

Fern could hardly believe it.

If someone had told her that Übel was a delinquent girl wandering the streets of the Holy City, Fern would have believed it at once. But no matter how she thought about it, Übel had nothing in common with tailoring, a profession that required patience, attention to detail, and sitting quietly for long periods.

"Why else do you think I told you to call her Scissor Girl last time? Though, to be precise, it's her older sister who runs the shop."

"But if I wear it, Übel will definitely call me Little Spray Mushroom again."

Apparently, Fern was still bothered by what Übel had said before they parted last time.

She had deliberately shouted the nickname "Little Spray Mushroom" before escaping into the crowd, leaving Fern no chance to strike back.

That was so underhanded.

"Then don't wear it?"

"No, I already promised her I'd wear it the next time we met. Once you make a promise, you should keep it."

Fern immediately rejected the idea.

"Then what are you going to do?"

"Call her Scissor Girl before she can say anything."

Fern spoke seriously. She clearly hadn't forgotten the counterattack she had planned last time.

"What's this about Little Spray Mushroom? Did I miss something?"

Frieren suddenly asked.

"Please don't worry about it, Lady Frieren. Just focus on your reading."

It seemed Fern didn't want the nickname to spread any further.

"It's a nickname Übel gave Fern. She said Fern looks like a kind of mushroom that grows in the wild called a 'little spray mushroom.'"

Lorenzo kindly filled Frieren in.

"Master Lorenzo!"

"I see."

Frieren studied Fern for a moment, seemingly checking whether the nickname suited her.

"There is a bit of a resemblance."

"Please don't agree with her."

The people who knew the nickname had now increased from Übel and Lorenzo to include Lady Frieren. If this went on, perhaps even Master Heiter would start calling her Little Spray Mushroom when she got home.

I have to stop it before something so terrible happens.

"In any case, please forget that nickname, Lady Frieren."

"All right, Little Spray Mushroom."

"..."

"I was just trying it out."

Frieren looked away as if nothing had happened.

Why does Lady Frieren always learn strange things so quickly?

"So, does that mean the gift Master Heiter prepared is clothing?"

Fern began changing the subject, though her intention was rather obvious.

"Probably."

Lorenzo glanced at the slip of paper.

"But we won't know exactly what kind until we get there."

Frieren didn't bring up the nickname again for the rest of the journey, which put Fern somewhat at ease.

She only hoped Frieren really had forgotten it, rather than saving it for some unexpected moment.

But just then, Lorenzo spoke to Fern.

"Did you know, Fern? A very, very long time ago, there was said to be a great hero who owned a divine steed given to him by his father. The horse was usually quiet, but whenever it did speak, it would always choose the worst possible moment."

"Why bring that up all of a sudden?"

A faint sense of foreboding arose in Fern's heart.

"I'm just telling a story. The divine steed never normally spoke, until the great hero put on his armor again and prepared to head into battle. Only then did it speak for the first time, telling its master, 'I will indeed bring you home safely this time, but your death is already near.'"

"That certainly was a terrible moment."

Fern fell silent for a moment. Probably no one about to head into battle would want to hear their horse suddenly predict in all seriousness that they were going to die soon.

Worse still, it was the first time the horse had ever spoken in its life. After remaining silent for so many years, its first words had finally come out, only to be a warning of death.

It would have been better off staying silent.

"But why are you telling me this story?"

"I just wanted to remind you."

Lorenzo glanced at Frieren, who was leafing through her grimoire.

"Just because someone hasn't said anything for the time being doesn't mean she's forgotten."

Fern followed his gaze to Frieren.

The large grimoire covered most of Frieren's face, leaving only her green eyes and the elf ears that had twitched slightly above the book visible.

She had clearly heard their conversation.

"Do you mean that Lady Frieren will suddenly speak up at the worst possible moment too, like that divine steed?"

"I never said that. It's just a simple story about a hero."

It's not simple at all.

If it really has nothing to do with what's happening right now, why would Lorenzo bring it up at this particular moment?

Fern's heart, which had only just settled, was in suspense again.

"Lady Frieren."

Fern asked tentatively.

"You've forgotten that nickname from earlier, haven't you?"

"Mm, I've forgotten."

Frieren answered quite naturally.

"Then what was the nickname?"

"I've forgotten."

The answer was far too suspicious, but no matter how much more Fern pressed her, Frieren simply lowered her head and continued reading the grimoire in her hands.

Before long, they arrived at the Holy City.

Following the address Heiter had left them, they passed through several familiar streets and finally arrived in front of Übel's family's tailor shop.

Though they could have found the right place even without looking at the address.

Standing outside the tailor shop, Fern opened the small bag she carried with her and took out the brooch.

Despite all her complaints, she had taken good care of the purple mushroom brooch.

It had been carefully wrapped in soft cloth, and there wasn't a single scratch on its translucent purple cap, which still glowed softly in the sunlight.

Fern took a deep breath and pinned the brooch neatly to her lapel.

"How does it look?"

She lowered her head to check its position.

"It looks a little crooked."

Frieren walked over to her and reached out to adjust the brooch slightly to the left.

"There, that's better, Little Spray Mushroom."