A Village Celebration and Anto’s Burdens

A little while later.

“To Old Jack’s marriage, a nineteenth toast!” In this remote village, every festival, no matter how minor, was celebrated with joyous enthusiasm, seizing every opportunity for happiness.

“Drink! Drink! Drink!” Amidst music and dancing, the border village might lack many things, but fire and passion were always abundant. Men drank heartily in the tavern, illuminated by the flickering firelight:

“This ale tastes truly fine! I tell you… when I ventured out, I encountered those goblins, and each one fell with a single swing of my axe.” The young lumberjack, already quite drunk, began to recount his tale:

“They were no match! They even tried to ambush me, but I simply sent my axe flying, smashing that monster to bits. Just look at these muscles; if the border city ever recruits, I could easily become an axe-thrower.”

“Oh, give it a rest, keep boasting. You just got lucky and stumbled upon a lone one.” Mans remarked with a chuckle, to which the lumberjack retorted:

“You, the young master who had to be ransomed, needn’t say another word. Just look at your eyes; the village elder must have given you quite the beating, didn’t they?” At that moment, as everyone looked at Mans’s eyes, a burst of laughter erupted from those around them, leaving him somewhat helpless before he declared, “We don’t judge heroes by such things.”

“You, a hero? Forget it. It’s enough that you’re back; being alive is good enough.” Someone interjected then, “We’ve had plenty to drink tonight. Don’t go on; any more and you’ll really be in trouble.”

“Anto…” At that moment, Mans looked up. The golden-haired youth, his long hair tied back in a ponytail, wearing a white shirt and an apron, stood to one side, holding a tray, and spoke:

“Don’t drink too much. There are still things to be done tomorrow.”

“Right, right.” Mans replied, “Anto, are you helping out today too?”

“We agreed on this earlier,” the tavern owner said with a grin. “The tavern is always popular when Anto is here; he’s like a signboard girl (TL Note: A ‘kanban-musume’ is a charming female employee who attracts customers, often used colloquially to refer to someone who brings good business).”

“‘Signboard,’ that sounds like a mere pretty face,” Anto said, shaking his head. “I’m just here to do odd jobs; the owner thinks too highly of me. I do need to come help out occasionally.”

“Anto, Old Jack, congratulations!”

“Hehe, Anto… you’ve become even more beautiful after a few days! Honestly, how can you possibly be a boy?” Fueled by alcohol, Old Jack couldn’t help but exclaim:

“If you were a girl, I’d certainly send my foolish son off to the army and have you as my daughter!”

“Please don’t say such things,” Anto replied with an awkward smile, then collected the empty plate.

“Hei would get angry. Uncle, you should just enjoy your anniversary.”

“That child… how adorable,” an outsider attending the feast remarked from a distance, captivated by the diligent golden-haired youth in the apron. At that moment, a villager suddenly spoke up:

“Indeed, Anto is our light.” As they spoke, the villager proudly lifted their head. “Just look at him now; when he grows up, he’ll surely charm countless girls. He is truly diligent.”

“He’s actually a boy… I’ve long heard rumors of a beautiful youth in this village. Is this the legendary ‘maiden-faced handsome boy’? He…”

“He’s an orphan.” The village chief unexpectedly interjected, though no one had yet asked:

“His mother passed away not long after arriving. They erected a tombstone for her there… now that I think about it, no wonder he arrived a little late today. For him, this isn’t a celebratory day. I should mention it to Jack later.”

“Anto, a mug of ale over here!”

“Coming right up,” the youth replied with a smile. As he approached, the other person reached out and clasped his hand tightly. “Thank you so much. Last time, when my child had a high fever, if it weren’t for your herbs, perhaps…”

“It’s nothing,” Anto responded with a gentle smile. “It’s good that everything turned out fine.”

“He’s also the town’s apothecary.”

“Yes, an amateur one. He buys books, seemingly studying for an apothecary license. He also frequently takes on odd jobs around the village—at the tavern, tending sheep. He might just be the most diligent young man in the entire village.”

“Not ‘might be,’ Anto simply *is*,” a drunken man slurred. “He’s an angel.”

“Don’t bring that up; no one here believes in that anymore,” someone said impatiently. “Our god hasn’t blessed us with anything in the borderlands; he couldn’t even protect his own church. Those holy figures of the Papacy couldn’t even withstand the Demon King’s army.”

“Stop talking nonsense; many in the village still have faith,” someone reiterated, only to be immediately countered: “If there truly is a god, then let him perform a miracle! Let my cup overflow with a paradise of milk and honey!”

“That might be a tall order,” Anto said, walking over and filling a mug with honeyed milk. “But you certainly need something to sober up.”

“Hehe, little Anto is thoughtful as ever.” In the borderlands, everyone in the village knew each other intimately and understood their circumstances. Thus, even though Anto might have been an orphan from a young age, nearly everyone in the village treated him as family. There was no other reason; simply looking into his clear eyes was enough to evoke a feeling of tenderness.

“Anto.” The village chief approached at that moment:

“You brought my scoundrel home. I truly don’t know what to say; thank you so much.”

“It’s not necessary, Chief,” Anto said, producing a money pouch. “Twenty gold coins, and the rest is for my errand fee.”

“You can keep it all.”

“Then the village wouldn’t be able to get through winter,” Anto explained. The chief smiled. “Even during the Dark Invasion, we managed to survive winter, but thank you. I’ve considered this for a long time: the national apothecary examination is arduous and costly. If you intend to set out, you’ll need a certain amount of capital.”

“…Indeed,” Anto responded. “And it might require even more planning.” The chief, discerning the underlying meaning in Anto’s words, then inquired:

“Is that sorceress still forcing you to wear girls’ clothes and serve her?”

“…That’s going too far,” the chief declared, then pulled out paper and a pen. “I might be able to contact someone to resolve this issue.”

“There’s no need. I’ve spoken with my teacher… the lady cannot let me stray too far right now,” Anto explained. The chief shook his head. “Listen, Anto, you are thirteen now. You cannot let that person control your life any longer. Moreover, Eric is even less reliable than the sorceress; he’s the only one close to her. Neither of them should be people you trust. If you wish to leave this place, and they try to stop you, our entire village will help you fight them. Rest assured. Your life should not be dictated by an Otherworld Traveler and a sorceress.