The next day, Emera and I once again attempted to explore the Royal Capital. This time, we managed to navigate the main avenue, though it was still teeming with people.

The reason we were able to move through the crowd was simple: people were giving us a wide berth.

"Hey, look! It's...!"
"The Tyrant! The one who overwhelmed the Berserker and Bardict!"

Such whispers came from every direction. Trying to escape the murmurs and stares, we hurried through the bustling street.

Despite the avenue's width and length, the sea of people showed no sign of thinning.

I had hoped to buy Emera some trendy clothes from one of the shops here, but the overwhelming crowd made me sigh. I glanced at Emera, who was trotting beside me.

"I'm sorry. I don't think we can keep this up much longer."

"Oh, that’s fine! Should we head back?"

Emera’s bright smile as she looked around the avenue, seemingly still enjoying herself, made her words almost surprising.

I stopped walking and scanned the surroundings before addressing a young woman nearby.

"Excuse me. I'd like to buy some clothes for this girl. Could you recommend a good shop?"

The woman, startled, blinked rapidly before pointing further down the avenue.

"There's a large trading company’s shop a little further ahead. You should be able to find something there."

"Thank you."

I gave my thanks, and the woman, still visibly flustered, bowed repeatedly as she watched us leave.

Following her directions, we found a shop with a storefront lined with goods. Clothes were visible further inside.

"This must be it," I said, walking straight into the shop and grabbing the nearest clerk.

"Pick out some clothes that would suit her," I instructed.

The young woman looked up at me with wide eyes.

"T-Tyrant Matt of the Sprex Gladiator Troupe!? It’s you, isn’t it!?"

She practically jumped, her high-pitched voice echoing as she darted about in excitement.

Ah, so even in this world, there are those enthusiastic fans. I couldn’t help but chuckle, memories of my past surfacing.

"Laughing...!?"

The clerk froze, her face bright red, standing stiff as a board.

"...I'd like to shop, if that’s alright."

Just picking out some clothes took far longer than expected. I also bought three shirts, pants, and jackets for myself to mix and match. But watching Emera panic as she tried to choose a single outfit was too amusing, so I ended up buying about twenty for her.

The sheer volume of goods was too much to carry, so the shop offered to deliver them to the coliseum later.

For now, both Emera and I changed into the latest Gong-style clothing and left the shop.

The clerk jokingly proposed marriage as we were leaving, but I waved it off lightly. Such fan admiration wasn’t for who I truly was but for the idealized image of me as a gladiator.

There’s no defeating a version of yourself inflated by someone else’s imagination, nor any need to shatter their dreams.

As I pondered this, walking back the way we came with Emera, someone called out to us.

Among the onlookers keeping their distance, a plump, mustachioed man in fine black clothing emerged. His rotund frame and tailored outfit made him stand out as he approached, raising one hand in greeting.

"Well, well! Matt! Could I have a word?"

The stranger, whom I’d never seen before, spoke in an overly familiar tone as he stopped in front of me. He appeared to be in his forties, though his exact age was hard to discern.

"Who are you?"

Suspicious, I questioned him. The man twirled his mustache and introduced himself.

"I am Bearhug, the Promoter of the Bearhug Gladiator Troupe, whom you faced recently. My, my, Matt, you’re quite strong! Yes, indeed, truly remarkable."

Bearhug grinned, his gaze fixed on me.

"...Bearhug Gladiator Troupe. What do you want?"

In response, he gave a slimy smile and nodded several times.

"Well, you see, thanks to you, Bulld hurt his back during the match. So, I thought, how about inviting you to join our troupe instead?"

As he spoke, Bearhug stared intently into my eyes, his unsettling gaze causing Emera to cling to my leg in fear.

Noticing the growing murmurs from the surrounding crowd, I glared back at Bearhug.

"The Gladiator Tournament isn’t over yet. The Sprex Gladiator Troupe still has matches to fight."

Bearhug’s grin widened as he nodded repeatedly.

"Yes, yes, of course. Compensation, right? Naturally, for someone of your caliber, let’s say five gold coins upfront for joining us. Then, one gold coin per match. For major bouts, three coins. How does that sound?"

His proposal drew a mixed reaction from the crowd. Some exclaimed it was a high offer, while others shouted that it was too low.

For a gladiator, and especially a slave with debts to repay, the terms were undeniably generous.

Still, I shook my head.

"If I leave, Sprex might lose his mind. I’ll pass."

"No, no, no! That old fool shouldn’t concern you. Besides, the Sprex Gladiator Troupe is nearly certain to be spectators on the final day, aren’t they? Meanwhile, our troupe is currently ranked second. With your help, you could even fight in the grand finale of the tournament!"

Bearhug’s words caused an uproar among the crowd. This was the loudest reaction yet.

The grand finale of the Gladiator Tournament—many gladiators would see it as their ultimate dream.

But I shook my head again.

"If I’m going to make it, I’ll do it on my own. Watch and wait for that day."

At this, Bearhug gave me a bored look, as if I’d said something naive.

"Ah, young people who don’t understand reality... Well, fine! Enjoy watching the final match from the stands."

He turned to leave, but I stopped him with one last question.

"...Why didn’t Cradle fight in the last match? I fully expected to face him."

Bearhug shrugged with a light laugh.

"I won’t say. But had you faced Cradle, you might not be alive right now. After all, even Bulld couldn’t hold a candle to him."

With that, Bearhug disappeared into the crowd.

As I stared after him, I felt the soft sensation of Emera’s hand gripping mine.

"...Let’s go home, Yamato," she said gently.

I nodded silently in agreement.