SSS-Ranked Awakening: I Can Only Summon Mythical Beasts - Chapter 312 - 312: Late Night Dinner
The restaurant sat just down the road from the Mercenary Guild building, glowing like a warm hearth under the starlit sky.
Its wood-paneled walls and flickering lanterns made it feel more like a tucked-away cottage than a public dining space, and it had long earned a reputation for being the last place to close each night.
Damien arrived just as the lanterns outside were being trimmed low for the night.
He stepped off Aquila, patting the griffin lightly on the neck. “Good work,” he murmured.
The mana beast let out a soft, low chuff in reply, its feathers ruffling slightly as Damien dismissed it with a thought.
Blue light shimmered around the beast’s form as it vanished into a flickering portal—gone in an instant, like a dream dissolving.
Luton, however, remained firmly perched atop Damien’s head. The little red slime wobbled once in defiance of gravity but didn’t move an inch otherwise.
During his brief rooftop escapade with the burglar, he’d left both summons outside. Aquila for muscle, and Luton because… well, the gelatinous creature had no taste for combat. But now that they were back near base, Aquila was unnecessary.
Luton, though?
A necessity. Always.
Damien pushed open the restaurant door.
The familiar warmth wrapped around him instantly—scented with roasted meats, herbs, fresh bread, and something vaguely fruity in the air.
A few of the usual night crowd turned toward him—mercenaries, off-duty guards, and regulars who raised their mugs or nodded in quiet greeting.
But Damien’s attention was already locked on a table near the window.
Arielle.
Seated alone, one leg crossed over the other, a half-eaten plate of meat and greens in front of her. She was leaning on one elbow, gaze thoughtful, slowly swirling a cup of tea between her fingers.
For a moment, Damien paused.
‘She’s been here all this time?’ he wondered.
But then again, it wasn’t like he’d gone searching for her. He’d had his own errands, his own pace.
And for all he knew, she’d arrived only minutes before he did.
He made his way over, hands tucked in his coat pockets.
“You’ve been here long?” he asked as he reached the table.
Arielle didn’t answer.
Instead, she looked up and narrowed her eyes at him.
“Where the hell have you been?”
Damien blinked. “…Out.”
“That’s not an answer.”
He raised a brow. “Shopping.”
She tilted her head, unimpressed. “Shopping doesn’t take three hours.”
Damien slid into the seat across from her, Luton bobbing quietly atop his head.
“I found a burglar,” he said calmly.
That got her attention.
“A burglar?”
He nodded. “Jewelry shop. Broke in, emptied boxes. I waited until he finished.”
“You waited?”
“Didn’t want to interrupt the process.”
Arielle stared at him, then slowly leaned back—and burst into laughter.
Not a chuckle. Not a smirk.
A full, hearty laugh that drew a few glances from nearby tables.
“Gods, you’re ridiculous,” she said between laughs.
Damien shrugged, already signaling to one of the workers nearby. “He’s tied up. Left the loot beside him.”
“You didn’t report it?”
“He’ll wake up ashamed when they catch him. That’s worse.”
The waitress arrived, smiling brightly.
“Welcome, Damien. Your usual?”
“Yes,” he said. “And one more to go—wrapped.”
“Of course.”
She disappeared into the back as Arielle sipped her tea, still shaking her head.
“You’re impossible,” she muttered.
“You’ve said that before.”
“Because it’s true.”
He gave a slight smirk, resting his elbow on the table. “You’ve been here the whole time?”
Arielle shook her head. “No. I arrived about twenty minutes ago.”
“Where were you?”
“Town Lord’s estate.”
Damien raised a brow.
“Did you mention we were leaving?”
“No,” she replied. “That wasn’t the point of the visit. I went to talk about the guild building.”
Damien leaned back slightly, listening now.
“He needs to know,” she continued. “Most of the town’s structures were rebuilt after the demon horde attack. But the guild? It’s been the same since before I even got here. Maybe decades.”
“Still standing.”
“Barely. The roof leaks when it rains. The walls creak. The foundations have old wards that don’t even activate anymore.”
Damien nodded slowly. “And his answer?”
“He agreed to fund reconstruction… partially. Town’s low on coin. He’ll either have to raise taxes or convince the townsfolk to support the rebuild.”
“Will they?”
“Some might,” Arielle said. “The guild keeps this place standing even during demon waves. They know that.”
Damien folded his arms. “And Lyone?”
Arielle glanced sideways. “He asked about the boy.”
“Of course he did.”
“I told him the truth. What you told me. That you’re watching over him. That he’s not a threat. That they don’t need to worry.”
Damien gave a slow nod.
Their food arrived moments later—his usual: grilled meat layered with herb sauce, root vegetables, and a square of honeyed bread.
The second plate was boxed and wrapped neatly in thick cloth and paper.
They ate in quiet for a while, the clinking of cutlery and low murmurs of the other diners fading into background noise.
Eventually, Arielle set her utensils down and wiped her hands.
“So,” she said. “When are we leaving?”
Damien swallowed, then replied, “Two days.”
“Why not tomorrow?”
“I’ve got some loose ends to tie up.”
She nodded, not pressing.
“And tomorrow,” he continued, “we go see the Town Lord together. He’ll want to hear it from both of us.”
Arielle sighed. “He’s going to be furious.”
“He won’t stop us.”
“No,” she said, sipping the last of her tea. “But he’ll try to guilt-trip us into staying. Especially me.”
“Let him. I have nothing to feel guilty about.”
They stood together, gathering their things. Damien picked up the wrapped meal and tucked it under one arm.
Luton gave a satisfied little *bloop* and bounced slightly as they stepped outside.
The walk back to the guild was quiet.
The streets were near empty now, the moon casting long shadows between buildings. Arielle walked with her hands behind her back, head tilted up at the stars.
Damien glanced at her once but didn’t say anything.
When they arrived, the guild building stood quiet, lanterns flickering in the windows.
They entered without a word.
Upstairs, they made their way to Lyone’s room and opened the door gently.
The boy was fast asleep—curled under his blanket, one leg thrown over the side, mouth slightly open as he breathed softly.
Damien stepped in and placed the meal on the small table beside the bed.
Arielle stood in the doorway, arms crossed, watching in silence.
“He’s still just a kid,” she said quietly.
“I know.”
They stepped out, closing the door behind them.
At the hall, they paused.
“Good night,” Arielle said.
Damien nodded. “You too.”
And then, with barely a sound, they each vanished into their rooms—walls between them, but something quiet and solid still held in the space they left behind.
