SSS-Ranked Surgeon In Another World: The Healer Is Actually OP!

Chapter 266: The Taste Before The Storm…

“Your regular?” she asked.

“Of course,” the Traveler replied, already turning away. “Don’t keep destiny waiting.”

With that, he strolled toward the corner of the shop and dropped into his usual seat like the place belonged to him, stretching out comfortably, one arm slung over the back of the chair.

Bruce followed more quietly, his gaze sweeping the shop once as he sat across from him.

It was surprising for an eccentric person like The Traveller to have such hobbies. Not in secret realms. Not in isolated sanctums. But in a place that smelled like warmth. And coffee.

A place where legends could pretend, just for a while, that they were ordinary men passing through.

And judging by the way the staff smiled as they moved to prepare his order, the Traveler had been doing this for a very long time.

It didn’t take long before two cups were placed gently on the table between them, porcelain meeting wood with a soft, careful sound. Steam rose lazily from the dark liquid, curling upward in thin ribbons that carried a rich, layered aroma through the air. It was the kind of scent that reached deeper than the nose, warm, faintly sweet, carrying a promise of calm before the first sip was even taken.

The Traveler reached for his cup first.

He lifted it with practiced ease, fingers settling naturally around the handle, and took a slow, deliberate sip.

Then, he closed his eyes.

For a brief moment, it felt as though the world itself had paused, the low murmur of the café fading into something distant and unimportant. The Traveler exhaled softly, shoulders loosening as if a burden he’d been carrying for years had momentarily slipped free.

“…Ah,” he breathed, voice low and deeply satisfied. “This taste… it’s like waking up in a peaceful town after surviving a battlefield the night before.”

He took another sip, slower this time, rolling the coffee across his tongue as though savoring every layer. “Bitter at first,” he continued, a faint grin tugging at his lips, “but honest. No lies. No pretending. Then comes the warmth, slow and steady, like someone telling you everything’s going to be fine, even when you know it won’t be.”

A soft chuckle escaped him.

“And that lingering finish?” he added, tapping the rim of the cup lightly with one finger. “That’s regret. The good kind. The kind that doesn’t hurt, but makes you want another sip anyway.”

He opened his eyes and turned his gaze toward the woman who had served them.

“Lady Ann,” he said warmly, voice stripped of its teasing edge, “your coffee is as good as always.”

“I’m glad it’s to your satisfaction, sir,” Lady Ann replied, bowing slightly with a polite, practiced smile that carried genuine pride beneath it.

Bruce lifted his own cup and took a sip.

The heat reached him first, not sharp or scalding, but gentle, spreading across his tongue like a slow exhale. The flavor followed immediately after, deep and smooth, the bitterness perfectly restrained by a subtle sweetness that never tried to dominate. It lingered just long enough to be noticed before fading cleanly, leaving behind a rich aftertaste that settled comfortably in his chest rather than weighing him down.

It was… grounding.

“…It’s good,” Bruce muttered quietly.

The Traveler laughed under his breath, clearly pleased.

“Of course it is,” he said. “I might not dare brag about many things, but this, this is the number one coffee spot in all of Velmora.”

Bruce nodded once. Coming from someone who had crossed every kingdom, who had tasted countless cultures and comforts, the statement carried undeniable weight.

“You flatter me, sir,” Lady Ann said, a faint blush touching her cheeks as she stepped back from the table.

“Nonsense,” the Traveler replied easily. “I’m just stating facts. No sugarcoating.”

Lady Ann smiled, bowed once more, and moved on to attend to other customers, her steps light and unhurried. With an A-rank cook class, it was no surprise that her creations carried consistency, care, and quiet excellence in every cup.

Bruce took another sip.

This time, he noticed more, the faint earthiness beneath the surface, the careful balance of roast and aroma, the way the warmth settled instead of pressing down, as though the drink itself had been designed to steady the mind rather than stimulate it.

And for the first time since the meeting, since SSS-ranked auras, war preparations, and the quiet weight of an entire world pressing down on his shoulders, Bruce felt himself relax, just a little.

The Traveler leaned back in his chair, one boot hooked casually over the other, coffee cup cradled loosely in his hand. His posture screamed laziness, but Bruce didn’t miss the truth of it. Those half-lidded eyes, unfocused at first glance, were razor sharp beneath the surface, watching, measuring, never truly at rest.

“So,” the Traveler said at last, swirling the coffee with a slow tilt of his wrist, “you’ve met invaders. More than one. Enough to catch your interest.”

Bruce nodded. “Yes.”

“And that made you start wondering,” the Traveler continued lightly, as though discussing the weather, “about the other kingdoms. About how many are already compromised. About how many people are fighting battles they don’t even know exist.”

Bruce didn’t answer right away. He lifted his cup and took another sip, letting the warmth settle before he spoke.

“In Valkrin alone,” he said calmly, “I’ve encountered more than two in less than a week. One was careful, the other was bold. Different methods. Different levels of patience. That tells me this isn’t coincidence.”

The Traveler hummed softly, neither agreeing nor disagreeing.

“From what I’ve seen,” Bruce continued, fingers tapping lightly against the side of his cup, “invaders don’t operate alone. They probe first. Test reactions. Measure resistance. They use inside help.” His gaze sharpened, thoughts briefly drifting to the Cthulhu spawn, to the dungeon that never should have existed. That thing didn’t act blindly. Someone, or something, made it possible, there must be another hidden reason why the Cthulhu chooses the academy of all places…

Bruce sighed, “If Valkrin is seeing this much activity, the other kingdoms aren’t clean either.”

He paused, then added quietly, “Some might be worse. Smaller kingdoms. Politically fractured ones. Places where nobles fight each other harder than they guard their borders.”

His eyes hardened further. “And the larger kingdoms too.”

The Traveler smiled faintly but said nothing.

For a moment, silence settled between them, filled only by the muted clink of porcelain and the low murmur of the café around them. It wasn’t awkward. It was contemplative.

“You want to move through all of Velmora,” the Traveler said slowly at last. “Not as a conqueror. Not as a savior.” His gaze locked onto Bruce. “But as an observer.”

Bruce nodded. “To confirm and intervene when necessary.”

The Traveler exhaled through his nose, a flicker of amusement surfacing before fading again.

“…You know,” he said, sighing, “I get that you’re the Anomaly and all.”

He leaned forward slightly now, posture shifting, the laziness peeling away just enough to reveal intent. “But isn’t your strength a bit… weak for dealing with beings on that level?”

The words were both mocking and teasing.

“You might’ve run into a few invaders,” the Traveler continued evenly, lifting his cup for another sip, “but understand this, real invaders don’t show themselves until they’re sure they can win.”

Bruce let out a quiet sigh.

“Don’t worry,” he replied evenly. “I can handle myself.”

The Traveler raised an eyebrow.

“I plan to push forward with this,” Bruce continued. “Whether you decide to help me or not.”

For a brief moment, the Traveler froze. Then,

“Hahahaha!”

Laughter exploded out of him, loud and unrestrained, drawing a few startled glances from nearby tables. He leaned back, laughing hard enough to wipe at the corner of his eye.

“Oh, I see,” he said between chuckles. “So that’s how it is.”

The laughter faded into a wide, genuine grin as he leaned forward again, elbows resting on the table. “…You really are troublesome,” he said fondly. “No hesitation. No fear. Just straight ahead.”

He chuckled again, quieter this time. “That’s exactly how people get killed.” His eyes sharpened. “And also how legends are born.”

He studied Bruce carefully now, the weight behind his gaze undeniable. “If I help you,” he said, “things will move faster. Louder. More dangerous.”

Bruce met his eyes without flinching.

“And if you don’t,” he replied, “I’ll still move.”

The Traveler stared at him for a long moment.

Then he smiled.

A wild, excited smile, one that looked far too pleased with the idea of chaos.

“…Tch. What a pain,” he muttered, shaking his head. “Looks like I won’t be bored anytime soon.”

He lifted his cup in a small, lazy toast.

“Finish your coffee, Anomaly,” the Traveler said. “Velmora’s about to get very busy.”

Then, with a crooked grin, he added, “Hopefully you won’t be as boring as Bale.”

Bruce took another sip of coffee, warmth spreading through his chest, eyes steady.