Escape from an Ancient Civilization Ch 140

Chapter 140

It was an alley roofed with layers of awnings; hardly any light got in, and only the two of them stood in the shaded space.

What is this—does he have something to say… uh…?

As soon as people were out of sight, Medeus caught Nataek by the arm, freezing his hand midair in surprise.

Why all of a sudden?

“Wh… what is it?” Nataek blinked.

“You didn’t notice?”

“Notice what?”

“That man was looking at you… strangely.”

Nataek replayed the scene. Sibiera had rolled his eyes at the jewels and cast suspicious looks at Medeus. As for Nataek… there hadn’t seemed to be any special reaction. He raised a brow.

“A strange look? That was toward you more than me, wasn’t it?”

“…No.”

Medeus stared down at him, restless.

What is it now—what’s making him this uneasy?

By instinct now, Nataek responded to Medeus’s anxiety—wanting to soothe, to reassure, rising straight from the heart without passing through thought. Slowly he lifted his arms and set his hands on Medeus’s waist.

“Medeus, could you tell me what you’re worried about? Aside from when he suspected you, I didn’t sense anything amiss. And he has no reason to be wary of me.”

“…”

He didn’t press for an answer; he just stroked Medeus’s waist, gently, as one calms a tense animal—asking without words what was wrong. The rigid shoulders gradually loosened.

“If the one he meant to bring really was Lagab… if he sees you…”

“Sees me?”

Head tilted, eyes up, Nataek waited. Medeus moved his lips but couldn’t get the words out.

“Do I have something about me that would offend him?”

After a long hesitation, Medeus ran a hand down his face.

“The opposite. He might… set his eyes on you.”

“Pardon?”

Nataek blinked at the answer he hadn’t expected.

What’s that supposed to mean—me? Lagab would… find me to his taste?

With that absurd thought came a flash of memory.

“Lagab is ranked second among the Guti—infamous for brutality. As for his appetites, he’s greedy for sex, taking men or women without distinction.”

Pumarsin’s intel surfaced. Even knowing Medeus’s concern, Nataek felt more bemused than ever. He glanced down at himself. Even if the man took anyone, there had to be some line; if it was physique, Nataek was solidly built compared to most men. He wasn’t small by ancient standards, even if he looked slight beside Medeus. If it was looks, he doubted his features matched ancient tastes—just a feeling, never asked.

Even Lagab must have preferences.

He looked up at Medeus: down‑slanted eyes with long lashes, white skin, lips like stained with fruit juice, a smooth, sculpted face.

Hey. Medeus… you…

“Haa… Medeus.”

“…Mm.”

As Nataek sighed, Medeus’s pupils trembled. Nataek reached to his brow and flicked up and down the brim of the hood with a fingertip.

“If that’s the worry, shouldn’t I be the one worried for you, not the other way around?”

He smiled softly, but Medeus did not yield so easily this time.

“Even the possibility is enough to worry me.”

Meeting the careful gaze, Nataek exhaled lightly. Then, with both hands, he tucked stray hair back into the hood and pulled up the slipped face‑veil.

“Don’t worry. It won’t come to that—and if it does, there’s the fighting you taught me.”

He had no idea why he was the one reassuring Medeus, or how odd the mood had become; he had simply grown used to how naturally everything flowed this way.

Back at their quarters, Nataek sent a letter to the Soothsayer at once—explaining the situation to date and adding a note for the princess written in his own script, just in case some prying eyes might intercept it. At such times the Soothsayer’s existence had never been more useful.

By the time the errand runner left with the letter, another day had already slipped by. From here on, he needed a plan—thorough, precise. Standing at the window, drying his wet hair on the night breeze, he organized his thoughts.

A week remained. Within it, he must:

• Finish the “Hidden Ally” quest. 
• Discover a clue to Lagab’s weakness. 
• Judge whether the tavern’s proprietress could be trusted. 

Prioritizing clarified the tasks. But for the side matter he had to resolve apart from the quest, no clear path appeared.

“I want to answer now, but I need time to sort myself out—to understand Medeus, and my own heart.”

He had to keep that promise. He could no longer pretend ignorance of Medeus’s feelings on the hope it was nothing. He didn’t want to see him struggle or despair anymore.

Truth was, he wanted to say he had feelings too. He had begun to worry over Medeus and think of him beyond the boundary of sex. But if he confessed honestly, he would also have to tell his own circumstance—that one day, he must leave him.

Cut this tie—or begin it. It all lay in his decision.

He could, in theory, wriggle out with a glib excuse…

“This time I’ll be completely honest. Please give me a few days.”

He had pledged on Medeus’s heart. No room for any lie.

What should he do… what should he say… he couldn’t just pour out such a tangled heart as‑is—aaaargh.

He squeezed his eyes shut and raked his hair.

“Teresi. What’s wrong? Headache?”

He felt Medeus approach. Nataek dropped his hands at once.

“No. Nothing. Just… sorting my thoughts.”

“Which thoughts? That business at the mansion? Or the man in the tavern?”

“Uh… yes. The tavern.”

He answered vaguely and stared back out the window.

“For him, asking the proprietress tomorrow would be most reliable.”

“Will she tell us?”

“We’ll have to make her talk.”

Nataek nodded without enthusiasm. With incidents and entanglements mixed together, his head felt ready to burst, time was bleeding away in real time, and the plan needed to stack with Tetris‑like precision. Let there be no mishaps—Ur’s conquest, and what lies between you and me.

It was a night so dim even the moon’s light was smeared by cloud. Arms folded, head resting on the lattice, Nataek heard a rustle from below. He pressed his brow to the grille and narrowed his eyes—there, a silhouette carrying something like a basket in the crook of an arm.

Peering left and right, cautious as a thief, the tavern proprietress slipped out the back gate.

At it again. Where is she going?

Watching her, Nataek remembered item three on the week’s list:

Judge whether the proprietress can be trusted.

“…Medeus.”

“Mm?”

Nataek beckoned urgently; Medeus, catching on at once, looked where he pointed. Having shut the back door, the proprietress glanced around again, then crept down the left‑hand lane.

“If not tonight, there won’t be time. Let’s follow.”

At his words, Medeus grabbed cloak and sword; without a word, both slipped out.

Long legs made it easy to keep up. They shadowed her at a distance—close enough not to lose her, far enough not to be seen—never forgetting to check behind.

Her path led not to the central market, nor the mansion, nor any temple, but outward, and farther out.

“What business has she here?” Nataek whispered; in the moonlight Medeus’s face matched his doubt.

“Giving out leftovers, perhaps.”

Ah. That could be.

Still only a guess. She walked on to a remote part even within the slums, beyond clustered homes, farther and farther. Just as Nataek’s irritation was rising, she stopped before a house.

Knock, knock, knock—

Pressing her face to the door, she murmured, “It’s me.”

Creak—the door opened, and a man stepped out. Nataek and Medeus pressed together behind a tree and hid.