This was the seventh year Rod had run the little tavern called Shave Off Tumors.
He had almost grown used to the desolation of this outpost.
Used to the sighing guests in the tavern. After all, the outpost's sorrow always infected passing travelers.
Used to the errand runners who always kicked the door open. It was hard to expect people with adventurer backgrounds to understand etiquette.
Used to the terrifying silence of the outpost nights. Even birds refused to cross that towering wall; only the uniform clatter of iron boots accompanied him to sleep.
Maybe nights were supposed to be quiet, he thought.
Not every city's nights were as bustling as Dragon Gold City's.
Ever-burning lamps hung along every street and alley of Giant Dragon Avenue. Drunks stumbling home after a night of drinking and restaurants that never closed could be found everywhere, along with affectionate couples and girls from pleasure houses.
So Rod thought he ought to sleep soundly tonight as well.
He had thought so—
"Bang, bang, bang!"
He slept on the tavern's second floor. Every day, he only needed to go downstairs after waking up to start his work. It was perfect for someone like him who loved sleeping in.
But now, it also allowed the knocking to reach his ears with perfect clarity.
"Bang, bang, bang!"
He threw on a coat and stumbled downstairs, still groggy. Each knock seemed to wake his mind a little more, until the noise around him gradually became unbearable.
As he descended, he glanced outside. Firelight flashed repeatedly through the dim night, followed by a buzzing chorus of voices. Rod began to feel uneasy. "Strange... why has everyone come out?"
Having lived here for seven years, no one knew better than him how terrified the residents were of the world outside