It took two days for Rick and the others to finally emerge from the mangrove forest without further incident, stepping once more onto dry land.
In those two days, Balzac never reappeared. The only troubles they faced were the mangrove's amphibious carnivorous insects, which made Rick's job significantly easier. Moreover, Shust had undergone a remarkable transformation after the antidote incident—at least he no longer radiated murderous intent. He spent all day sleeping and eating in the cart, doing nothing, but also causing no trouble.
At one point, Rick suspected Balzac was dead, but Shust coolly told him the man was tailing them, then fell back asleep as if the matter had nothing to do with him.
Shust could brazenly ignore the threat, but Rick couldn't. The poor fellow stood on the cart roof for two days and nights without sleep, dragging his exhausted body.
As if that weren't enough, the day before leaving the mangroves, Moya fell ill at the worst possible time, shivering with a high fever. According to Lav, this was a typical reaction to implanting the new modified insect egg, and she'd warned Moya earlier—she hadn't treated him immediately because he'd been rude to her. In short, in her view, Moya had brought it upon himself.
Ordinarily, Rick would have been glad to see Moya suffer for his sharp tongue, but now he desperately needed Moya's help. After begging Lav for ages, she said the treatment would take a day. This left Rick stunned—among the four, only Moya and Shust could drive, but Shust pretended not to hear, making it clear he wouldn't help. Rick had no choice but to cut a long tree root and pole the cart like a boat for a whole day to escape the damned mangroves.
In just two days, Rick lost weight and looked ten years older from exhaustion. But at last, he stood on solid ground, Moya's fever had broken, and he could finally sleep.
Moya seemed unchanged after the fever, which disappointed Rick slightly, but Moya taking over the wheel delighted him—otherwise, Rick would have had to push the cart to Benning Town.
Ducking into the back of the cart, Rick collapsed onto the seat and fell asleep instantly, soon snoring loudly.
Benning Town.
Perched on Terry County's edge, Benning Town boasted a landscape unlike any other. It was hard to believe that just 400 miles away lay the humid mangroves, while here, the air was so dry it chafed the throat. North of Benning Town, a simple fence separated it from the sandstorm-ravaged Tanzan Desert, filling the air with fine dust and casting a gray veil over the sky. Occasional howling winds whipped up sand, forcing passersby to scramble for shelter.
Tattered wooden houses, a desolate main street, and drunk vagrants huddled under eaves to escape the wind—from any angle, Benning Town was a obscure northwest hamlet.
By the street stood a dilapidated inn with a weathered sign so faded its letters were unreadable. The owner seemed in no hurry to repair it, letting it clatter in the wind.
Inside, a wizened innkeeper with wrinkled face dozed over the counter, while the only clerk listlessly arranged tables and chairs.
Suddenly, the sound of an insect cart stopping outside rang out. The innkeeper blinked awake, peering through the cracked door that let in gusts of sand.
Bang!
The tattered door flew open, kicked by a leather-booted foot. A swarthy man with muttonchops and gaudy clothes stormed in, followed by three teenagers—two boys and a girl.
The man scanned the inn with hawk-like eyes, finally fixing on the innkeeper. Jolted by his gaze, the innkeeper sprang up like a cat with its tail stepped on, all drowsiness vanishing.
"Hey, Shust, you scared him." Rick's tired voice sounded as he bypassed Shust and sat on a dusty barstool. "Old timer, we've traveled far—got anything to eat?"
"Oh, yes, yes!" Recovering, the innkeeper found Rick much friendlier than Shust and unusually barked orders at the clerk.
Soon, four plates of charred food were set before them. "What the hell is this? You can't expect us to eat this!" Moya skewered a piece with his fork, waving it at the innkeeper.
The innkeeper blushed, embarrassed by his cooking. "Apologies, sirs. The shop hasn't had customers in ages—my skills have rusted."
"Rusted into a miracle." Moya teased, frowning as he took a bite. "Huh?" His frown lifted, and he took another bite. "Hey, this is good! What is it?"
Proud that his cooking was liked, the innkeeper puffed out his chest. "This is our Benning Town specialty—sand lizard meat."
"Sand lizard? These aren't extinct?" Moya gaped. No wonder he was shocked—in an era dominated by insects, non-insect species were nearly extinct. To find non-insect meat in this border town was incredible.
"Maybe rare elsewhere, but here, sand lizards are more common than ants. Without them, this town wouldn't exist. Official caravans visit two or three times a year to buy sand lizard cans and hides—only then does the town liven up."
"No wonder. If it stayed like this, it'd vanish from the map soon." Moya tore into the meat, speaking with a full mouth.
Meanwhile, Shust had finished his plate, wiping his mouth with a handkerchief. "Bring us something to drink."
"All we have is wheat insect wine." The innkeeper cowered before Shust, answering softly.
"Only this inferior wheat insect wine? Nothing better?" Shust frowned.
"Um..." The innkeeper wiped cold sweat with a dirty sleeve, looking miserable. "Sir, transportation is poor here—luxuries rarely arrive. In this town, only two or three shops serve wheat insect wine to customers."
"Fuck, what a shithole." Shust spat on the ground.
"Stop picking on him. Just drink it." Rick intervened like a savior, tossing two golden beetle coins to the innkeeper. "Bring three glasses of water and prepare three guest rooms—we need to rest here for the night."
"Wow, first time seeing you so generous." Moya whistled teasingly.
"See my dark circles? I just want to sleep. Money means nothing to me now." Rick rested his chin on the bar, eyes barely open.
"Don't worry, sir. Right away!" The innkeeper happily pocketed the coins, then yelled at the idle clerk: "Idiot! Didn't you hear the young master wants rooms? Get upstairs and clean them, or I'll break your legs!"
Cowed, the clerk scrambled upstairs. The innkeeper served wine and water, then chatted with them while the clerk prepared the rooms.
"Sir, your girlfriend is beautiful. Don't you want to take her to tonight's market?"
Hearing Lav called his girlfriend, Rick perked up. Glancing at Lav, who blushed and stayed silent, he laughed: "Your market? Come on, I don't want to inhale sand at night."
Offended that his hometown was belittled, the innkeeper frowned. "Normally, yes, but tonight's different. The official caravan arrives tonight. All nearby lizard hunters are coming, and villagers from neighboring hamlets bring local goods. It's lively—no less than a big town."
"Really?" Rick peeked at Lav, who seemed interested. "Alright, we'll check it out. But first, can I sleep? I'm dead tired."
"Of course, of course! Right away!" The innkeeper dashed upstairs. "You brat! How long does cleaning a few rooms take? No dinner for you if you don't finish!"
The sun set, and a pale crescent moon rose. In the blink of an eye, the day ended. Lav sat by the windowsill, resting her chin on the ledge, watching pedestrians in varied clothes carrying bags arrive from all directions.
Glancing at Rick, still snoring in bed, Lav sighed, pouting. "Hmph, he promised to go to the market with me... So untrustworthy, sleeping this late."
As night fell completely, stars lit the sky, brightening the town. The street below roared with noise, threatening to lift the roof. The once-quiet inn now bustled with travelers, their footsteps and laughter audible a kilometer away—yet Rick still slept.
Lav lost patience, her pretty face long and stormy. "He must be doing this on purpose!" She clenched her fists, glancing out the window wistfully. This raw, rugged market was a new experience for her, raised in the city. The innkeeper said such markets happened only two or three times a year—missing this meant waiting who knew how long.
"I have to go shopping—now!"
Summoning courage, Lav tiptoed to Rick's bed. Waking a sleeping unmarried man in his room was unthinkable for a noble-bred girl. Looking at Rick, drooling and sleeping badly, she hesitated—but the bustling market spurred her on. "Just this once; Grandpa won't know."
"Rick, Rick. Wake up!~~~" Lav sat by the bed, shaking him gently.
"Um!..." Rick turned over, falling back to sleep.
"Argh!—" Lav trembled with anger. Since she'd already broken the rules, what was one more? Biting her lip, she grabbed a corner of Rick's quilt, closed her eyes, and yanked: "Wake up, you dead Rick!—"
"Brrr!~~~~" A sharp intake of breath jolted Rick from sleep. Desert nights were cold, and Lav had left the window open. The sudden draft chilled him to the bone, sweeping away all drowsiness.
"Achoo!" Rick sneezed, sitting up shivering, rubbing his eyes. "Where am I? Why so noisy?"
"Don't 'where am I' me! Look at the time! The market's been open ages—I've waited since dinner!" Lav opened her eyes, hands on hips, yelling.
"Oh right, promised to go to the market." Rick yawned, scratching his head. Another cold wind blew in, and he felt a draft in his pants. Looking down...
The two stared at something simultaneously, then looked up at each other, dumbfounded. Their faces turned beet red in an instant.
"Monster!~~~~" Lav covered her face and slammed the door behind her.
Inside, Rick twitched, hands over his face. "Great, she saw it..."
About ten minutes later, Rick emerged fully dressed. Lav stood timidly by the door, still blushing. Rick, however, acted nonchalant.
To Rick, it was no big deal. Growing up on the streets, he'd rarely worn pants without holes and often stripped to swim in the river. After the initial embarrassment, he brushed it off.
"Now we're even. Let's go." Rick clapped Lav's shoulder casually.
"Even?" Lav blinked, then realized. "Oh right! He saw me once, so it's only fair I saw him too!"
Understanding this, her blush faded. Still, the image of that "monster" popped into her mind. I should ask him what that was later. With this thought, she skipped after Rick.
Stepping out of the inn, a cold wind made Lav shrink. Living in Terry County's year-round spring, she'd never felt such temperature swings, inching closer to Rick.
"Cold?"
"Mn." Lav huddled, blowing warm breath into her hands.
"Should've brought Moya's cold gear." Rick took off his coat, draping it over Lav and pulling her close. The warmth was unprecedented.
Stealing a glance at Rick in his thin shirt, Lav whispered: "Aren't you cold?"
"Not really." Rick sniffed, smiling nostalgically. "I was born in Kester, where seasons change. I rarely wore more than one layer growing up. For scum like me, filling my stomach came first. If I was cold, I'd just run around."
"Sc-scum..." Lav stared at Rick, stunned. His world was alien to her—she couldn't imagine living like that.
Seeing Lav lost in thought, Rick tugged her toward a barbecue stall. "I haven't had dinner. That looks good."
"Right! It smells amazing. Let's try it." The aroma made Lav hungry, and she dragged Rick to the stall.
After wolfing down fifty-odd skewers of grilled meat, they patted their full bellies. The meat was also sand lizard, but compared to the innkeeper's cooking, it was divine. Rick thought the innkeeper had wasted such good ingredients.
Sated, they strolled the market like first-time lovers, hand in hand. Benning Town's primitive market was indeed unique. Without fancy shops, the hawkers yelling beside their goods felt more intimate. Even Lav, used to fine things, was drawn in, happily picking out rough handicrafts.
Wandering through the crowded market, Lav went from shivering to flushed. Her hands held a bunch of odd carvings and unknown larva specimens. Rick didn't get why she bought them but let her be. He noticed bartering was common here, with sellers quickly becoming buyers, creating a vibrant atmosphere—even if the town only came alive a few times a year.
"Look, what's that over there? It looks so lively!"
Girls on a shopping spree had endless energy—Rick, who prided himself on stamina, now had aching feet, but Lav showed no fatigue, pulling him into the crowd.
Unlike other market areas, this section had order despite the crush. Dozens of cargo carts surrounded by uniformed men busily traded goods.
"These are commercial guild caravans, what the innkeeper called the official caravan." Lav explained Rick's confusion.
"Commercial guild?"
"You don't know the guilds?" Lav gaped. "Like the Insect Association, they're one of the world's three great powers, alongside city lords. City lords govern territories and control egg modification. The Insect Association coordinates hunters. Guilds handle trade, connecting cities and filling shortages."
"That's why Kester gets Iso City's highland barley insect wine!" Rick, though uneducated, grasped the logic quickly.