Logan pulled the door's handle, leading into the grocery store. The counter was empty, giving the impression that the entire establishment had been abandoned, which was unusual. Then we were drawn to one of the aisles by a few mild thuds booming through the silence.

There was Ava, crouched as she put some fruits on a shelf. Everything in her store had to be perfect, right down to the last-minute details. As soon as she noticed the presence of potential guests, she rose and wiped the sweat from her forehead with her sleeve. Contrary to the disappointing expression I imagined she'd give me, a thin smile formed across her lips when we made eye contact. She must've been concerned about why I was so late, but her relief soured as her gaze fell to the axe and backpack Logan and I carried.

"So this is why you've been acting so strangely lately," she exclaimed, stamping her foot on the floor. As she went on, my heart fell to my stomach. "No. You're not going to the 4th District again."

"Ava," Logan said, a calm demeanor worn above his shaking innards

He had avoided bringing up this matter until now because he knew his wife would not take it lightly. Seeing this helped me understand why he was so apprehensive earlier. It wasn't out of fear, but rather because of guilt.

"Don't 'Ava' me." She placed a finger into his chest, her words filled with annoyance. He didn't say anything and just stood there, taking everything. Logan most likely knew he deserved it. Or felt so at the very least. "We've discussed it before, haven't we? We've retired, Logan. No more putting our lives in danger for a living. I believed you concluded the last chapter of your days as a mercenary the last time you crawled out of there."

Ava never talked much about her life as a mercenary and didn't enjoy talking bringing it up in particular. She wasn't with us the last time I've been there as a porter with her husband. I had no idea such a decision had ever been made. But as I hid things from Logan, he must have done the same. And I didn't blame him for doing so one bit. I couldn't even if I wanted to...

"We did."

"Then?!" She shifted her glare to me. "What about you, Gray? Logan's my husband. I get where's he coming from, even if I don't like it. But what about you? Don't you realize how fortunate you were to get out of that hellhole alive the first time you've been there?"

I gulped a lump of saliva. It rolled down my throat like a boulder. Was it okay for me to tell her about Artemis? Had Logan already mentioned it to her? Will it make a difference if I were to open up? I couldn't think of anything other than the sheer embarrassment tugging at my guts, or a sensation akin to it. I haven't felt like a child caught doing something wrong in a long time...

After observing our expressions with a calculative frown, Ava merely sighed and brushed her hair with her fingers. It was apparent she was dissatisfied with the current turn of events.

"What am I supposed to do with you two?" she grumbled, more to herself than anyone else, then walked over to one of the shelves and grabbed a can of food.

"Give it here," she said, grabbing my backpack and stuffing the can inside, right next to the clothes I had prepared ahead of time for myself. The way she kept looking through the backpack so intently made my heart skip a beat. "Some shirts. A medical kit. And what the hell are these plastic bags for...? Don't answer. What about claryindaryl? Is there any left?"

Logan only glanced at me, perplexed. It was up to me whether things moved on from here.

"It's not in the medicine kit," I responded, relieved that she hadn't noticed what was beneath those clothes. "Look in the smallest compartment."

Instead of taking my word for it, she reached out. Ava pulled out a box of clarinadyl, as expected. Its exterior appeared rough as if it had been through a lot. There were nearly half as many tablets as there should've been.

Ava hurled the backpack on the counter and questioned: "How many days?"

"About two," Logan responded, his tone stronger than before. "Just to be on the safe side, count another—"

"You think I didn't know that much?" she hissed back.

Ava has been a mercenary for as long as Logan has. According to what I've heard, they met on an expedition and hit it off right away. I never bothered to inquire deeper regarding their relationship. It didn't seem like it was my place to intervene.

"Are there any other people I should take into account?"

"There aren't," affirmed the barbarian. "Just us five."

"Good." She nodded as she stuffed another can into the bag. The sound of metal hitting metal rang out clearly in the otherwise quiet grocery. "Grab yourself some clothes to change into once you return, Logan. Wash at the restroom over there. You're not bringing any blood into this place. Not a drop."

Logan simply said, "U-understood," rather than continuing to dispute with her.

A can flew right toward me. I caught it on reflex. Ava murmured to me as she withdrew her extended hand: "Eat now, Gray. You don't know when you'll get another chance like this. Or if you ever will..."

I was about to ask if I was supposed to eat with my hands when she pointed to some cooking utensils while reaching for some bottles of water. After all, there was no flowing water in the 4th District. Taking steamy showers was out of the question. Some wet tissues should do the trick. Alternatively, we may clean ourselves with some water and a towel. Nothing too fancy. Those were my thoughts as I rotated the fork I had taken into the cold pasta without saying anything else.

"Grayson."

I swallowed and then returned her stare. Although I loathed being called that way, it undoubtedly indicated Ava's seriousness. I'd rather not complain about it now, though. I was certain she didn't want to hear any of it.

"Whatever you do, bring Logan back," she whispered as she wrapped a knife in the rug she used to clean the counter.

Compared to the artifact I obtained, the knife wouldn't be much use if we came across any monsters, but it should be enough to fool the guard at the entrance... Even Ava missed it at the bottom of the backpack, buried beneath everything else. That was most likely because she was more concerned with the clarinadryl rather than some mythical weapon wielded by adept hunters.

"If you have to, disobey his commands," Ava added, oblivious to what was going through my mind. "Shove some of those tablets down his throat and drag him out. Bring him back to me, even if he's infested with some monster's pathogens. I'll respect your decision to be his porter if you promise me that."

"I understand," I replied, tossing the now-empty can into the thrash.

"I want to hear you say it."

Although I hadn't fully ruled out the possibility of dying, I didn't hesitate to utter: "I promise."

I'll drag Logan out no matter what. I'll keep my promise, even if it means dying along the way.

It wasn't as though I had anything other than that to lose, anyway.