The warmth was glorious. The fuzzy blanket of alcohol wrapped around Kaito's mind, muting the sharp edges of the world and painting everything in soft, friendly colors. Roland's booming voice was a comforting rhythm, the laughter of the guild a symphony of belonging. For a few precious minutes, Kaito was not an amnesiac god or a cosmic anomaly. He was just a man, sharing a drink.
He reached for the third tankard Roland had procured, a happy, determined glint in his eye. He brought it to his lips and took a long, deep swallow.
And nothing happened.
The bitter taste was there. The liquid filled his stomach. But the warm, dizzying sensation… vanished. It was as if a switch had been flipped inside him. The mental fog lifted in an instant, leaving behind a crystal-clear, almost painfully sharp sobriety. The noise of the guild was no longer a comfortable din but a chaotic assault of individual sounds. The pleasant buzz that had radiated from him, the gentle aura that had been boosting the mages, snapped off as if it had never been.
[Analysis: Ethanol molecules identified and neutralized. Biological adaptation complete. The vessel is now permanently immune to the neurotoxic effects of C₂H₅OH.]
Kaito set the tankard down with a soft thud. The sudden clarity was a bucket of cold water. He looked at the half-finished drink, then at Roland's expectant face, and felt a profound, weary disappointment. He hadn't even gotten a proper hangover; his body had simply… learned. It had adopted the state of "drunkenness" and filed it away under "ineffective."
He sighed. It was a deep, quiet exhalation that held the weight of a thousand unremembered lifetimes. The sound was so full of a sudden, mature exhaustion that Roland's boisterous smile faltered.
"Hey, you alright there, kid? You look like you just saw a ghost," Roland said, his voice losing some of its volume.
"I'm… fine," Kaito said, his voice now steady and clear, all trace of the previous slur gone. "I think I've had enough."
The sudden shift was jarring. The cheerful, drunk F-rank was gone, replaced by this calm, unreadable young man whose eyes seemed to see right through the celebration. The mages in the room felt the change too. The effortless flow of magic vanished, replaced by the normal, stubborn resistance of the world. The fire mage's bird-shaped flame sputtered and died. The enchanter looked at her perfect dagger with a newfound confusion, as if waking from a dream.
Seraphina, who had been meticulously mapping the energy field, froze as it dissipated. Her head snapped towards Kaito. The cessation was as telling as the effect itself. It wasn't a spell that had ended; it was a state that had been consciously, or subconsciously, revoked. Her intellectual hunger sharpened into a razor's edge. He hadn't just been the source; he had absolute control over it, even in a supposed state of inebriation.
Kaito gave Roland a small, apologetic smile. "Thank you for the drinks. It was… a new experience." He stood up, his movements sure and balanced. "I should find my room."
He walked away from the table, leaving a confused spearman and a deeply fascinated mage in his wake. The brief, beautiful illusion of being normal was over. His body had, once again, reminded him of the truth he could never speak. He could wear a human face, pin on an F-rank badge, and sip ale with heroes, but he would forever be on the outside looking in, a sober king in a world of happily drunk subjects