State Your Business

Mr. Hood vanished into the canopy, disappearing from sight in a heartbeat.

Naturally, that left our four-man party as the sole remaining target.

"Hey, that team has the top scorer from the First Gate."

"And look at the build on that monkey guy. He's a monster."

"No way. Don't even think about it."

Most of the manhunters prowling through the woods in search of easy victory points didn't dare lay a finger on us. Thanks to that, our group ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠was completely at leisure to shoot the breeze.

"Hiring you as an escort for good money has certainly paid off," Giselle remarked smoothly.

"Gwahaha! If you're that grateful, feel free to tip a little extra!" Son Ocheon boomed.

"Is there something in particular you wish to purchase?"

"Good liquor doesn't come cheap, you know."

"Liquor?"

My ears instantly pricked up. How could I not be interested? The Food Compendium included beverages, after all. And if drinks counted, there was no earthly reason why alcohol wouldn't! It was always best to register what you could, while you could.

"Oho, what's this? A little pipsqueak like you wants a sip?"

"I love anything you can eat or drink!"

"Then want to give this a try?" Son Ocheon grinned, unhooking the gourd flask from his waist and holding it out. It was the very same gourd he had been carrying at his hip ever since Mount Shinjung, through the airship journey, and all the way past the First Gate.

"You've had that on you forever! Wasn't there water in that flask?!"

"Why would I carry around something that boring? It's booze, obviously."

What an absolute lush. Just how much alcohol does this guy chug on a daily basis?

"Well, go on. Take a whiff."

"Ugh. That stinks."

I wondered how much I needed to drink before the system registered it for collection. A single cup? A whole bottle? If ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠it was in a bottle, did I have to empty the bottle, and if it was in a gourd, did I have to drain the entire gourd?

Frankly, I had plenty of confidence in my drinking capacity. Back before a capsule malfunction caused my sudden death and bought me a one-way ticket to another world, I often went out on wild drinking sprees alone with my childhood friend Sia. She was a total lightweight, yet she'd always puff out her chest and challenge me, declaring, "Tonight's the night I drink you under the table!" Watching her pass out first every single time was quite the spectacle. Now that I thought about it, she used to drunkenly babble something about how she'd make sure my alcohol tolerance was lower than hers no matter what, didn't she?

"……."

Hrm. Now that I think about it, this might be risky.

In the game, all you had to do was select [Drink], and your character would down it instantly, a timer would tick down, and you had a fixed percentage chance of catching the Intoxicated debuff. But in reality, where everything came down to pure physical tolerance, there was no dice ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠roll to save me. Orknodi's body was that of a child, and children were notoriously vulnerable to alcohol.

"I must ask you to refrain from feeding liquor to a child," Giselle interjected, adjusting his glasses. "Not only is it detrimental to her health, but we are currently in the middle of a trial."

Even so, alcohol was an essential target for the Food Compendium. Once I had some breathing room, I'd have to find a way to log it. Yeah… that's the play. Preferably when that hairy ape is sound asleep. Once this exam wraps up, I'll sneak in and steal a swig in the dead of night.

"Hey, pipsqueak. Aren't you worried about getting lost? The guy in the lead is already long gone."

"We just have to track him. It's easy."

There were clues scattered everywhere.

Thanks to the tracking mechanic that automatically progressed whenever eye-tracking picked up a trail, my ability to spot and pursue environmental clues was remarkably sharp, even in reality. Truth be told, I was just as confident in my tracking skill as I was in my stealth.

"Oho. What, does our little runt have actual hunting experience?"

"Of course I do."

"With that tiny frame of yours, what did you bag? A rabbit?"

"Excuse you! I hunt monsters, okay? And sometimes people—oops."

"People? You're joking, right?"

"O-Of course it's a joke! Hehehe."

Phew. That almost killed the mood entirely. Or wait… did it already?

An abrupt silence crashed over the clearing, turning the atmosphere suffocatingly heavy.

Damn it. I had been hoping to grind some combat EXP, but a slip of the tongue ended up leveling useless social stats instead.

On the bright side, the bothersome lurkers I'd been worrying about how to shake off decided against ambushing us alone. It was an accidental byproduct, but a relief nonetheless. Solo-operating, ambush-happy evil examinees were remarkably dangerous, even for someone of Son Ocheon's caliber.

"It's okay. Nothing like that will happen anymore."

Seeing me lost in thought, Isabelle must have misunderstood something, as she reached out and gently patted my shoulder.

"Nothing like what? Ah, you mean hunting? If a situation comes up where we need to stage an ambush, we should definitely do it. How else are we going to pass?"

"It's all right. You leave those things to your older brother and sister."

I mean, having them do the heavy lifting was great for me, but still, no way!

"What if you get hurt, unnie?"

At those words, Isabelle clutched her hands to her chest, her expression melting into overwhelming tenderness as she soundlessly stomped her feet in sheer emotion.

Hehehe, what a simple, innocent soul. She had no idea I was merely laying the groundwork so my chef wouldn't use minor injuries as an excuse to dodge complicated, high-tier recipes. If she knew the scheming thoughts running through my head, she'd probably die of shock.

Even after that, Isabelle kept gazing into the distance and brushing the corners of her eyes with her sleeve.

"Miss Isabelle."

"You can call me unnie."

"Unnie… are you crying?"

"No. It's just my pollen allergy acting up."

"Ah. That must be rough."

"Yeah. It'll get better in a bit, so don't worry about me."

Isabelle was not only a bit silly, but an outright liar. There wasn't a single blooming flower in this entire dense forest, yet she spent the next several minutes furiously wiping away tears.

Piece by piece, the harrowing picture of Orknodi's past training began to assemble in Isabelle's mind.

Poison tolerance conditioning. Advanced tracking drills. Swordsmanship and archery. Hunting wild beasts, and even… experience hunting human beings.

There's no mistaking it. That's assassin training.

No matter which way she looked at it, it was undeniably the brutal upbringing of an assassin.

"Hunting isn't that big of a deal," Son Ocheon said, attempting to cut through the heavy mood. "Back when I was her age, I went around hunting orcs too."

"Really?"

"One bastard tried to claim a deer I brought down just because he wedged a stone hatchet into it! Cheeky brat. So I buried that hatchet right back into his skull!"

Seeing Son Ocheon's boisterous laughter, Orknodi smiled and chimed in cheerfully, easing up.

"Ah, that really is annoying when it happens."

"…Runt, did you send a few packing like that too?"

"Not with an axe. With a bow."

"……."

"J-Just kidding! It was a lie! A total joke!"

"…Is thaaat so?"

Far from lightening the mood, the atmosphere plunged into an even darker abyss. Inside Isabelle's head, the tragic backstory of young Orknodi unfolded like a vivid nightmare.

An isolated, sunless island. Captive slave children gathered from across the continent. Only one child permitted to walk away alive. An merciless crucible where boys and girls who broke bread together were forced to point cold steel at one another's throats just to survive… And now, Orknodi forced herself to act cheerful, desperately trying to blot out the lingering, horrifying sensations of slaughter.

This poor child…!

Even after enduring such an unspeakable tragedy, the innate goodness within ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠her had not been completely extinguished—she had reached out to save Isabelle and her companions. In truth, she must despise taking human life; she had only killed because duty compelled her. There was no other way to explain her bright, trusting, affectionate nature.

"Let's take a break here, everyone," Isabelle announced, voice slightly tight. "There's a stream nearby, making it the perfect spot to dress the mongoose meat and cook a meal."

At the mention of meat, both Son Ocheon and Orknodi began drooling, immediately scattering into the underbrush to gather dry firewood.

"Giselle. A moment."

"Yes?"

"The two of you… you're traveling with her to protect her, aren't you?"

"Was it that obvious?"

"I've pieced together what kind of background she comes from," Isabelle said softly. "She must have had an unimaginably dark past."

"Please, do not make it too evident in front of the child," Giselle whispered back, adjusting his spectacles. "She tries so very hard to remain bright and carefree. Her smile is something I wish to protect at all costs."

"I understand. That's why I want to help as well."

"Are you certain?"

"I already owe her my life. She saved the comrades I hold dearest in the world. Whoever is pulling the strings behind her terrifies me, but I want to be of use to her in any way I can."

"If your resolve is that firm, then I suppose my dissuasion would fall on deaf ears," Giselle murmured. He then quietly recounted snippets of Orknodi's eccentricities—the butler, the maid, and the uncanny feats she had shown during their journey.

"Is that so… To evade the airship guards so casually at that age…"

"Though I must say, Miss Isabelle, you seem to have lived quite an eventful life yourself."

"Ah, this?"

Even while whispering, Isabelle's hands had never paused, deftly skinning the carcass, removing the entrails, and cleanly butchering the prime cuts. Noting the admiring glance Giselle cast toward her professional butchering skills, she gave a sheepish smile.

"It's nothing like what that child went through. I'm eighteen this year. I only begged my seniors in the adventuring party to teach me because I wanted to pull my own weight."

"I see."

"From my perspective, you're the enigmatic one, Giselle. Your pack is bursting with an absurd assortment of rare items. When she mentioned hating mosquitoes, you coated us in high-grade insect repelling incense, didn't you?"

"Well… my past is hardly something to boast of. I was a ticket scalper on the black market."

"A ticket scalper? And you still chose to take the exam? A single Gold Ticket fetches an astronomical sum out there."

"Haha. My stomach aches far worse than that, I assure you. After all, I had to burn a Platinum Ticket."

"A Platinum?!"

Even after combing through countless examiners alongside her entire adventuring party, Isabelle had never so much as glimpsed a Platinum Ticket.

"Tell me… you aren't harboring some sinister scheme while staying by her side, are you?"

"Heavens, no. That child was raised as an elite assassin for an apex noble house. Meddling with someone like that would cost a black marketeer all nine of their lives."

"…It seems both of us have gotten involved with an extraordinary child."

"Indeed we have."

Whatever their pasts might have been, their desire to protect Orknodi was identical. Isabelle felt a newfound sense of kinship drawing her closer to Giselle.

"Are those two dating, do you think?"

"Don't ask me, runt."

"Should we be polite and wander around for another hour?"

"Hrm. Maybe we should?"

"You two behind the bushes. If you've gathered the firewood, stop spewing nonsense and get over here," Giselle called out with a polite, razor-sharp smile.

Seeing the two culprits pouting in blatant disappointment, Isabelle couldn't help letting out a soft chuckle.

Tempered through years of rugged adventuring, Isabelle's culinary skill was truly exceptional.

"This is pure bliss…!"

"I'm glad you liked it," Isabelle replied, watching me with an expression of immense gratification.

As I exchanged goofy grins with Isabelle while chewing happily, the rustling of undergrowth broke the quiet.

"Quite a crowd is heading this way."

"They must have spotted the campfire smoke."

Just as the men noted, a considerable flock of examinees was converging on our campsite.

"Look at them… they actually roasted meat."

"They even built a proper fire?"

"Haha, unbelievable. Talk about taking it easy."

Tall postures, flamboyant gear, and immaculate garments—they were familiar faces from the First Gate.

"What business does the Western Noble Coalition have here?" Giselle asked, his voice dripping with icy politeness.

"You'd best choose your words very carefully," Son Ocheon warned, rising to his full towering height and gripping his heavy staff, letting his colossal frame cast an imposing shadow.

Faced with the terrifying aura radiating from both men, the noble youths flinched, instinctively recoiling a step.

"Wait, it's a misunderstanding! We didn't come here to pick a fight!"

"If not to fight, then what?"

Following a suffocating standoff, the aristocratic examinees finally opened their mouths in desperation.

"Please, just teach us how to start a campfire!"

"We want to eat cooked meat too!"

"I can't fall asleep without a mattress… waaaah!"

"Forget all of that, just get rid of these mosquitoes! The buzzing and biting is driving us completely insane!"

"……."

The sole business of these highborn young lords and ladies was, quite simply, begging for help.