The Gate Traveler-Chapter 26B5 - : Oh, Um, Oops?

We sat on the crumbling stone steps of the old amphitheater, looking over the lake.

“Should we travel this world or move to the next Gate?” Al asked, eyeing the distant trees.

I tilted my head back and looked at the sky. “We wanted a nice calm world as a vacation.”

Mahya stretched her legs out, crossing her ankles. She gathered her braids into a bun and let out a sigh. “Yeah, but this one is low mana,” she said, wrinkling her nose as if the very thought was disgusting. “It won’t be calm. It will be boring.”

I chuckled. “Boooriiing is good sometimes,” I said with a teasing lilt, drawing out the word with exaggerated slowness. A smile tugged at my lips as I remembered my desire to visit Shimoor specifically for this fact.

Al gave me a questioning look. “So you want to travel here?”

“I think so. I mean, Zindor is a shit show, and the last world we traveled was insane. Don’t you want something calm and slow? We can relax for a while, travel a bit, enjoy the peace, and then fly back to the Gate to continue Mahya’s core acquisition quest.”

She shot upright in a flash, planting her hands on her hips. “Hey, it’s not only my quest.” Her finger jabbed toward me, then swung to Al. “You both benefit from it too! I just want enough cores for all our projects—and my spaceship. It’s not every day we stumble on unsupervised dungeons that are easy to clear. I can’t pass up this chance.”

She glared at me, crossing her arms. “Besides, you stopped joining us for dungeons, so you can’t complain.”

I lifted my hands in mock surrender. “Okay, okay. I’m not complaining. I just want a slow world for a change. Something uncomplicated with normal people and no fights.”

“Fine,” she said in a petulant tone.

I glanced at Al, and he gave a nod. The three of us turned to Rue, but he was snoozing without a care in the world. I took that as a Yes vote.

The closest town was on the other side of the lake, on the outskirts of the forest that bordered it. We flew over the water and trees—Al on the sword after a short negotiation with Mahya—and reached the town in less than an hour.

The town looked like something out of a storybook. The houses were all made of stone, sturdy and weathered, with red or mossy green roofs that looked like they’d been there forever. Some even had grass growing on them.

Small streams of water cut through the town, crisscrossed by little stone and wooden bridges. The paths were a mix of well-worn stone steps and dirt trails that curved naturally around boulders and patches of wildflowers. It felt like the town had grown out of the land instead of being built on it.

Everywhere I looked, there were trees—some standing tall and proud, others leaning over the streams or houses. The hills surrounding the town weren’t steep, more like gentle slopes dotted with flowers and rocks, giving the whole place a layered look. Even the hillsides had winding paths leading up to hidden spots or more houses tucked into the landscape.

The water was so clear you could see the stones at the bottom, and the sound of it trickling through the town was everywhere. It wasn’t loud, just a quiet backdrop that made everything feel calm. Birds flitted around—small ones chirping and the occasional bigger ones soaring overhead.

“It’s Hobbiton!” I exclaimed.

“Shh,” Mahya hissed in my mind. “Talk telepathically while we’re invisible.”

“Sorry. I was surprised.”

“What is Hobbiton?” Al asked.

“From Lord of the Rings,” I said.

“I don’t know what that is,” he said.

“We watched it with Lis before Al joined us,” Mahya said.

“Oh! It’s a movie. I’ll let you watch it at the first opportunity; it’s really good,” I said.

Two people walked down the path ahead of us, engrossed in conversation. We followed quietly, listening to their language. It was melodic, full of flowing vowels, like a lyrical mix of Spanish and French. It almost sounded like they were singing the words rather than speaking them. They eventually disappeared into a house, and we shifted our focus to three women chatting nearby. After half an hour of careful listening, we retreated into the forest and practiced the language until we had it down.

We returned to the town and saw a young couple holding hands. Mahya waved to them. “Can you tell us where the inn is?”

The girl smiled at her and pointed toward a building. “The strange house there.”

It was a strange house. Built into the hillside, it had two round doors tucked into the base, almost like burrows, and narrow, arched windows peeking out from the upper floors. A small wooden bridge stretched over a pond at the front. The roof had red tiles, and vines crept along the stone walls.

We crossed the bridge, the wooden planks creaking under our steps, and followed the curved stone path up to the front door. Wildflowers lined the path’s edges, their colors bright against the moss-covered rocks scattered around the yard. It was quiet, except for the soft hum of insects and the occasional splash of water from the stream.

Mahya glanced back at me. “Looks cozy.”

“Hobbiton,” I said with a shrug.

She laughed.

Inside, the cozy atmosphere continued. The walls curved, following the natural shape of the hill, and covered in shelves crowded with jars of preserves, stacks of books, and small wooden carvings. A woven rug stretched across the stone floor, its edges fraying with age. Mismatched chairs and tables filled the space; each was slightly different, but all worn smooth from years of use. A wide hearth dominated one corner, and a few dried herbs hung from the ceiling beams, their scent mixing with the smell of food and wood smoke. The inn looked more like someone’s home than a business.

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A cheerful redhead wearing a pink dress waved at us with a big smile. “Welcome! Welcome!” Her grin faltered the moment Rue stepped into the inn.

Mahya walked over to talk to her while Al and I took a seat at one table. As they spoke, the woman kept casting quick, nervous glances at Rue, but slowly, her shoulders eased, and her smile returned.

“I got us three rooms,” Mahya said as she joined us at the table. “No suites, just single rooms. Dinner’s in ten minutes, and she’s making something that sounds like hot sangria.”

The lady disappeared into the back, and two blond girls brought out the drinks. The girls couldn’t have been much older than twenty. They both wore simple dresses, one with her hair in a loose braid, the other letting hers fall freely over her shoulders. Their laughter was soft, almost shy, but their eyes had a playful glint as they set the drinks down in front of us.

“You’re not from here,” the one with the braid said, her gaze lingering on me for a beat longer than necessary.

I smiled. “What gave it away?”

The other girl giggled, leaning in slightly. “Your clothes. And the wolf.” She glanced at Rue, sprawled near the table, ignoring them completely.

Al cleared his throat, already looking annoyed. “Thank you for the drinks. We’ll be fine on our own.”

The girl with the loose hair stiffened, clearly surprised by the blunt dismissal, but she covered it with a polite smile and turned her attention back to me.

“And you?” she asked, tilting her head. “Do you need anything else?”

I could see Al giving me a look from the corner of my eye, but I just shrugged and leaned back in my chair, still smiling. “I’m good for now. But thanks.”

They lingered a little longer, the one with the braid brushing a hand against my shoulder as they left. Al sighed and shook his head when they were out of earshot.

“Really?” he muttered.

“What?” I asked. “I’m just being polite.”

The drinks did resemble hot sangria—warm wine with pieces of fruit floating in it. The scent was rich and spiced, similar to allspice, but not quite. Their flavor was sharper, with a tang that lingered on the tongue, leaving a slightly different, almost peppery finish.

Dinner arrived shortly after—a hearty stew with chunks of meat and root vegetables, served with fresh bread and a thick, dark gravy. It smelled fantastic, but after the first bite, I frowned. No salt.

Rue didn’t seem to mind, happily gobbling down a huge serving with relish, but Mahya and Al both frowned after their first bites. I pulled a salt shaker from my Storage, sprinkled some into my stew, and set it on the table. My reward was a radiant smile from Mahya and a nod of approval from Al.

The salt shenanigans didn’t go unnoticed. The girl with the braid, who’d been glancing our way all evening, immediately perked up. Her eyes locked on me, wide with curiosity, and she nudged her friend before making her way back to our table.

“That was magic, wasn’t it?” she asked, leaning in with that same playful smile. “You can conjure salt from thin air?”

I chuckled. “Not exactly. I’m a merchant and have the Inventory skill.”

She grinned. “Most visitors just suffer through it. We don’t use much salt around here—it’s too expensive.” Her eyes stayed locked on me, her interest plain as day. “You must be pretty successful if you can pull off things like that.”

Al cleared his throat and gave her a stern look.

She shot him a quick, dismissive glance before turning back to me. The girl lingered, clearly looking for an excuse to stay longer. Finally, when dinner wrapped up, she made her move. “If you’re not busy after this… maybe we could talk more?” Her cheeks flushed slightly, but her confidence didn’t waver.

Al rolled his eyes. “I’m going to my room.” He stood abruptly and left without another word.

Mahya stood, too. “I’ll take Rue with me tonight,” she said, giving me a knowing look. “I think he’ll appreciate the space.”

Rue’s ears perked up at his name, and he padded over to Mahya without hesitation. She gave me a wink as she walked off with him.

“Well,” I said, turning back to the girl. “Looks like I’ve got the evening free.”

Her smile widened. “Good. Let’s go upstairs.”

She was enthusiastic—more experienced than a twenty-year-old had any right to be. Her confidence made it easy to get lost in the moment, but something was different this time. Everything was different. Every touch, every breath, every shift in the air between us hit with a clarity I hadn’t known before. My enhanced senses turned what should have been a simple, pleasant experience into something overwhelming in ways I hadn’t expected.

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The heat of her skin wasn’t just warmth—it was layered, shifting with every movement, the temperature fluxes minute but unmistakable. The scent of her hair carried hints of flowers and wood smoke, subtle before but now hitting like a gust of wind straight to the lungs. Every sound—the rustle of fabric, the creak of the mattress, the faint, steady rhythm of her heartbeat—came through with startling clarity, as if the world had cranked up the volume and refused to dial it back down.

For a brief moment, I even considered using one of Al’s “endurance” potions, not for the usual reasons, but to see if enhancing one sensation might dull or balance out the others. But the idea felt ridiculous the second it crossed my mind. There was no turning this off, no hiding from my body’s awareness. I’d have to learn how to manage it, how to stop feeling everything so intensely before it became unbearable.

And yet, despite the sheer flood of input, it was… nice. Different, but nice. The intensity blurred the lines between too much and just enough, making the entire experience oddly surreal—like standing in the eye of a sensory storm, caught between control and chaos.

The following morning, the light filtered through the small, arched window, casting a soft glow on the stone walls. I stretched under the blanket, my muscles relaxed for the first time in days. The scent of wood smoke lingered faintly in the air, mixing with the smell of fresh bread baking somewhere downstairs.

The girl—what was her name again?—was already awake, sitting on the edge of the bed, lazily braiding her hair. She glanced back at me with a warm smile.

“Good morning,” she said softly, her voice a little husky from sleep.

“Morning.” I sat up, rubbing my face.

I felt surprisingly at ease. For once, there were no dungeons, monsters, or travel plans to worry about—just a peaceful morning. I reached for my clothes, pulling on my shirt as she stood and adjusted her dress.

As I tied my boots, she cleared her throat. “So… I’m glad you had a good time.”

I looked up, smiling. “Yes, very much.”

There was a pause. She fiddled with her braid, her eyes flicking toward the door before settling on me again. “I don’t usually stay this long. You know…”

I blinked, confused. “What do you mean?”

Her smile turned a little awkward. “I mean… not everybody can afford a full night.”

I froze mid-motion, my bootlace slipping from my fingers. “Wait… what?”

Her expression softened. “I have a family to take care of. I don’t stay unless…” She hesitated. “Unless you’re paying.”

It took me a moment to process what she was saying. I stared at her, the dots slowly connecting in my head. “Oh.”

Heat crept up my neck, and I was sure my face had turned tomato red.

She gave me a patient look, as if this was something she’d explained before. “Most visitors know how it works.”

“Oh,” I repeated, feeling more heat creep up my neck. “I, uh… I didn’t realize.”

My brain scrambled for a response, but all I could manage was an awkward laugh as I rubbed the back of my neck. “I thought… I mean, I didn’t know you were—”

“An entertainment girl?” She raised her chin, a hint of amusement in her expression. “Yeah.”

I stood, brushing off my clothes as if that would smooth over the situation. “Right. Of course. I just—well ...” I had nothing. My brain was blank.

She patted my shoulder. "Don't be embarrassed."

I cleared my throat, trying to regain some semblance of dignity. “I don’t usually—uh, I mean, I didn’t expect to…”

She smirked, clearly enjoying my discomfort.

I took out ten gold coins. Is this enough? I had no idea. “Here. Sorry about that.”

Her eyes widened when she saw the money, but she snatched the coins and tucked them into her dress. “Thanks. You know where to find me if you need anything else before you leave town.”

I nodded, still feeling my face burning as she headed for the door. She paused with her hand on the latch and gave me one last grin. “You’re cute when you’re flustered.”

As the door closed behind her, I sank back onto the bed, groaning quietly into my hands.

“Idiot,” I muttered to myself.

When I got downstairs, Mahya, Al, and Rue were halfway through breakfast. The minute the two traitors saw me, they broke into wide grins—Al included. They didn’t need to say a word. I knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that they were fully aware of who—or more precisely, what—the girl was. And the traitors hadn’t said a thing!

I just shook my head. With friends like that, who needs enemies?