Scaramouche was disheveled and tired. Being a samurai for hire by the imperial court had left him no time to rest and groom himself.

Settling down for the night, Scaramouche scrounged up his mora, and an inn seemed like a haven instead of dirt and a pitiful campfire. This one had hot springs, complimentary food, and attendants.

As he entered, attendants and guests murmured at his bloody and dirty appearance. Unluckily, it was your family's inn, and it would be your job to attend to him.