I Am Not Goblin Slayer
Chapter 65: Parting Ways

Two hours after nightfall, it was the busiest golden hour in the small town.  

Inside a two-story stone house with a chimney spewing black smoke, the place was packed with people. Occasionally, someone would push open the wooden door that creaked sharply, bringing the tavern’s raucous noise spilling out onto the street.  

“You didn’t see it! Even though I dropped my weapon back then, I just slapped that goblin’s head off with one hand!” The half-orc warrior pounded the wooden table, bragging about his strength to his companions, spittle flying under the oil lamp’s light.  

The clatter of overturned cups sparked noisy commotion, rough thumb war challenges echoed, and waiters shouted loudly, carrying trays and urging customers to make way.  

Drunken murmurs, off-key hoarse singing, heated quarrels, and whispered conspiracies all swirled above the tavern, forming a noisy yet strangely harmonious background.  

In the corner, the bard stubbornly tried to make his lute heard amid the cacophony.  

The strong, slightly sour scent of ale drifted through the air, mixed with the aroma of roasted sausages and grilled meat. It awakened appetites while also making people feel pleasantly tipsy in the alcohol-tinged air.  

The Night Owl Squad gathered inside the tavern, where the warm yellow glow from the oil lamp in the alcove lit up their faces.  

A few of them sat on wooden chairs, resting their chins on their hands as they observed the tavern’s atmosphere, their expressions showing rare relaxation and ease.  

For new adventurers, the noisy environment might feel unfamiliar at first, but after a few visits, they would quickly unwind amidst this rough and genuine bustle.  

A group of low-tier adventurers, who constantly flirted with danger, gathered together to numb themselves with alcohol and food. Neither dignified nor elegant, they possessed a wild and resilient vitality unique to fringe adventurers—like weeds thriving on the edge.  

“Come to think of it, this is the first time our team has had a meal together since Gauss joined.” Levin raised his huge wooden cup and took a sip of frothy ale.  

Gauss thought for a moment and realized it was true. He had been with the team for almost a month, and before, after missions, everyone was usually exhausted, filthy, and just wanted to disperse quickly to rest.  

But the recent goblin commission had a short route and hadn’t drained much energy, so everyone was still in good shape.  

At Levin’s invitation, they had taken a bath and gathered in the tavern to eat together.  

“Gauss, want some drink?” Levin noticed Gauss’s cup was empty.  

Gauss was about to refuse out of habit but seeing that everyone else, including the two female members, had their cups full of ale, he swallowed the words back.  

“Alright, I’ll give it a try.” He didn’t say he was a teetotaler. In his previous life, he occasionally had a small glass of red wine before sleep.  

He just hadn’t tried this world’s cheap ale before. Every time he smelled it, it had a suspicious sourness. But seeing other customers drink it happily, maybe this was its original flavor.  

Levin poured Gauss a little over half a cup.  

Gauss sniffed it, and a strong, stale fermented grain sourness hit his nose, like wet cereal or sour rice left too long.  

There was no malt aroma like the beer in his past life, only a raw and rough fermentation scent.  

He carefully took a sip.  

“Sour!”  

A sharp sourness stabbed his tongue’s taste buds immediately. After the sourness came a sudden rush of alcohol burning and a lingering unpleasant taste in his throat.  

Was this stuff really tasty?  

“Ahem!” Gauss coughed a few times, his face flushing slightly.  

Seeing his intense reaction, the others at the table couldn’t help but burst out laughing.  

Having witnessed Gauss effortlessly slicing through enemies on the battlefield, seeing him embarrassed like this was a novelty.  

“As expected, Levin, I guessed Gauss wouldn’t drink!” Daphne took a big gulp of ale and winked at Levin.  

“Gauss, are you even a normal person? I’ve been drinking since I was a kid, treating alcohol like water.” Doyle laughed heartily, feeling somewhat proud to have finally beaten Gauss at something.  

“Of course I can drink; I just don’t like the taste of this place’s booze.” Gauss defended himself.  

“What do you mean ‘this place’s booze’? This is just the most ordinary drink.”  

Archer Oliver looked at Gauss suspiciously.  

“By the way, your background must be made up, right? You look like it’s your first time drinking ale.”  

“……”  

Gauss was silent, seemingly unable to explain.  

In this world, drinking culture was widespread. Many started drinking from childhood, even treating low-alcohol drinks like water was not unusual.  

This cheap ale was basically consumed by the vast majority of commoners.  

Except for this oddball here.  

Those who had guessed the “truth” saw Gauss reluctant to say more and assumed there was some inconvenient secret. They laughed it off and thoughtfully changed the subject.  

After all, Gauss, with his outstanding background, had still “fallen” to associating with a group of muddy-legged folks. Clearly, he had suffered a major upheaval.  

......  

When Gauss got up from the familiar straw bed, it was already the next day.  

He shook his head; his body still felt heavy.  

Thinking about last night, he couldn’t help but shake his head.  

It was way too wild.  

They had eaten and drunk until late, and just as they were leaving, a small incident happened. Doyle noticed someone harassing Daphne and got into a shoving match at the tavern’s entrance, which escalated into a fight.  

The Night Owl Squad didn’t hold back and overwhelmed the opponent, then ran off before the patrol guards arrived.  

In the end, Gauss had to escort the drunk Doyle back to his place.  

Gauss smiled.  

He felt himself becoming more integrated into this world.  

First time in the wild, first monster kill, first commission, first team-up, first time drinking cheap ale, first brawl...  

Strictly speaking, he didn’t dislike this experience. These rare firsts in his past life made him truly feel alive.  

“Want some hangover soup?”  

When he arrived at the main hall on the first floor, Sophia, who had just finished serving meals, looked at Gauss walking down the stairs.  

“By the way, it costs money.”  

“Sophia, can’t it be free? After all, we know each other well now.”  

“Of course not. I bought it myself. Businesspeople can’t always be charitable.” Sophia turned and headed to the kitchen to ladle the soup.  

Although Gauss joked, he felt a bit warm inside.  

He knew Sophia probably prepared the hangover soup especially because of his heavy smell of alcohol from last night.  

After drinking some hangover soup, Gauss felt somewhat better.  

Sitting by the counter, watching other tenants dining in the hall, he fell into thought again.  

Although the dinner last night was pleasant, in the following conversation, he understood what Levin and the others wanted to convey.  

Levin hadn’t said it outright but spoke vaguely, yet Gauss’s emotional intelligence wasn’t low enough to not understand.  

He realized that because of his presence, the others recently hadn’t been able to use missions to effectively train themselves.  

If the others were mercenary-type adventurers in their forties, having lost their dreams and only working for money, they would be glad to have such a powerhouse in the team.  

But clearly, they were not that kind of people.