Albrecht scanned the room, his mind shifting into problem-solving mode. There was no back door, no easy way to drag the bodies out without someone seeing.

  'If I can't take them outside, I need to make them disappear here.'

  His gaze flickered to the fireplace to his left, unlit and barely used. Small, but big enough to start something.

  'Not ideal, but it'll have to do.'

  He moved quickly, grabbing a burlap sack from beneath the bar and shaking out the old, rotting vegetables inside. Then, one by one, he stuffed the corpses inside, their limbs folding awkwardly, already stiffening from death.

  Albrecht reached for a bottle behind the bar, uncorking a high-proof spirit. He poured the liquid over the logs in the fireplace, letting the alcohol seep deep into the wood.

  Next, he gathered the thickest cloth he could find, wrapped his hand, and grabbed a burning candle from the bar counter.

  'Here goes nothing.'

  He dropped the flame.

  The fire erupted instantly, climbing the logs hotter and faster than a normal flame thanks to the alcohol. Thick smoke curled toward the ceiling, the scent sharp and acrid.

  Albrecht wasted no time. The bodies went in one by one, burlap sacks and all.

  The first body hit the flames with a dull thud, and Albrecht forced himself to watch as the fire devoured it, licking at the fabric, blackening flesh beneath.

  'It's not enough. Now it would be handy to know a fire spell…'

  Bones didn't burn easily. Cremation required extreme heat. A fireplace like this might not be enough.

  'Or I just need something stronger.'

  His eyes landed on a wooden barrel near the kitchen entrance. He opened the lid.

  It was Lye.

  A cleaning agent, soap ingredient… and potential corpse disposal tool.

  He didn't hesitate. Scooping a handful, he tossed the coarse white powder into the fire.

  The effect was immediate.

  The flames flared blue-white, burning hotter than before. The flesh blackened faster, and the bones cracked and softened under the heat.

  He added more. The flames raged, turning bone into brittle fragments and flesh into nothing but curling ash.

  For over an hour, Albrecht fed the fire, ensuring that by the end, nothing was left but white embers and scattered cinders.

  The bodies were gone, but there was still one last problem: the smell.

  Even with the windows cracked, the scent of burnt flesh and charred fabric lingered in the air. If someone walked in, they'd notice.

  This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

  Albrecht moved quickly, grabbing another bottle of alcohol, this time, one infused with citrus and herbs.

  Pouring it into a kettle, he set it over the still-burning embers, letting the scent of rosemary, lemon peel, and spice fill the room.

  Within minutes, the stench of death faded, replaced by the comforting aroma of a warm, spiced drink.

  With one last look around, Albrecht stepped back.

  The tavern was clean.

  It smelled of herbs and burnt wood.

  And no one would ever know three men had died here.

  Albrecht washed his hands, scrubbing away the last flecks of soot and ash.

  He glanced down at them—his fingers steady.

  He had disposed of three bodies without flinching.

  No trembling. No hesitation. No guilt.

  If anything, he felt worse about scamming Isla than he did about watching three people die.

  'Am I really this kind of person?'

  Or had this world already begun to change him?

  With the tavern finally clean, Albrecht stepped outside. The crisp morning air was a stark contrast to the lingering warmth of the fire he had just used to erase three bodies.

  'I need information. Maybe a map…'

  Across the street, Isla's clothing shop stood exactly as he left it. The main street stretched out to either side, lined with various shops and stalls, the architecture blending timber, stone, and metalwork.

  The town felt far more vibrant than it had in the early morning. The streets were now brimming with people.

  Many people were dressed like merchants, and a few carriages were pulled by horses over the cobblestone floor, seemingly carrying goods like fish and bread.

  Albrecht chose to head left from the inn, following a sign that read "Market Square."

  As he walked, the street gradually sloped downward, leading into a bustling marketplace. Two additional streets fed into the square from the left and right, merging with the lively scene.

  Beyond the marketplace, a river flowed between stone walls, separating this town section from another. A grand arched bridge spanned the water, linking the marketplace to a street on the opposite side that followed the river's path.

  Small wooden boats bobbed along the edges, moored beside trading stalls and open-air cafes.

  This was a magical sight, literally. A performer captivated the crowd by performing magic, his hands weaving through the air as shimmering streams of water spiraled around him.

  With a graceful motion, he sent droplets soaring, where they froze midair, forming intricate crystalline shapes that sparkled under the morning sun.

  A flick of his fingers shattered them into a glittering snowfall, only for the ice to reform into a magnificent sculpture, a towering dragon of frost, before dissolving back into mist.

  With one final motion, he conjured a swirling vortex of water, splitting it into dancing orbs that floated around the onlookers before vanishing into thin air, leaving only a refreshing coolness behind.

  Albrecht stood before a blacksmith's stall, his eyes scanning the weapons displayed on thick wooden racks. Swords, axes, lances, and daggers gleamed under the morning sun, their polished edges reflecting the flickering forge fire nearby.

  A worn sign nailed to the front of the stall advertised weapons for sale and repair service, with the blacksmith hammering away at an anvil behind the counter.

  His gaze drifted toward the price tags scratched onto small plaques. The cheapest sword, a simple iron blade with a leather-wrapped hilt, was listed at 14 silver coins.

  The more refined ones, decorated with engravings, hovered at around 50 silver coins.

  The most expensive one, a longsword with a faintly glowing edge, was priced at two gold coins.

  'Weapons aren't cheap.'

  It was Albrecht's first real glimpse at the world's economy, and without money, he was at a severe disadvantage.

  Fortunately, he didn't have to search far to find something even more valuable than a sword: information.

  Just behind the blacksmith stall, a small shop caught his eye. Unlike the open-air markets, this one was a proper stone-and-wood building with a carved wooden sign hanging above the entrance:

  "Wanderer's Quill – Bountys & Maps"

  'Perfect.' he thought, stepping inside.