Week 2.5 (3)
Week 2.5 (3)
"Yep."
Valerie, leaning stylishly half against the wall, gave a curt nod.
Unintentionally, it seemed I'd kept her waiting a tad longer than expected.
Eh, not really my fault, but I apologized anyway.
"Sorry, did you wait long?"
"Ah, well... it wasn't that long, so it's fine. More than that, was there something going on inside? Normally, immigration checks at the Great Checkpoint take like 2 to 3 minutes tops."
Just like she said, her question carried pure curiosity rather than any real blame. I unloaded my gripes like I'd been waiting for the chance.
"No way, she was the one named Anna, and after asking this and that, she suddenly malfunctioned all on her own. Looks like it's her first time doing inspector duties or something."
"What? No way... There's no such thing as a rookie at the Great Checkpoint? She's gotta be a vet who's been at it forever somewhere."
Valerie scratched her cheek, looking a bit puzzled, then snapped her fingers like something clicked.
"Aha, by any chance, Master-nim, did you say you came from Ruelier?"
"Yeah, yeah. Then, what about you, Valerie-ssi?"
No way our territory's that embarrassing?
I shot back on reflex since it didn't add up, and she hit me with a look like what kinda obvious bullshit is that?
"Of course. I just threw out some vague crap. No point inviting weird misunderstandings."
"Nee? No, what misunderstanding?"
"So, I told you before we left, right? Master-nim, your territory's rep is rock bottom of rock bottom? Say you're from there, and boom—they eye you like a suspect on sight. Sure, they won't block entry or whatever, but those shitty looks? Total mood-killer."
"Ugh, ugh..."
Valerie straight-up pummeled me with words, no breather.
Proper comeback? Fat chance. And hearing it, even I started buying into it.
Ah, did I really get the side-eye just for saying I'm from Ruelier?
Tears prickling, sweat pouring from my hands and feet.
"...Don't take it too hard, Master-nim. Sounds like I was too harsh for no reason."
She patted my deflated shoulders. That stung worse.
I kept heaving earth-shattering sighs, and she got this troubled look, smacked her forehead with an ah, really, and said,
"Originally, we were gonna keep the Ruelier thing on the down-low, but Master-nim done spilled it all already... Eh, since it's out there, let's spin it positive. We tweak the territory's image even a smidge and head back, right?"
"...How?"
"Well, that's..."
She snuck a glance my way—like gauging my mood—then answered with a sheepish grin.
"If we just show folks us chatting normally...? Wouldn't that chip away at it bit by bit?"
"...So right now, we're seen as incapable of normal chat?"
Some deep-rooted fuckery started bubbling up.
Thinking back now, recruiting folks willingly? Straight-up impossible from jump.
The butler's disbelieving snort flashed through my head outta nowhere.
"...Should we just head home?"
"Ehey, why you gotta? Man draws his sword, he's gotta hack some reeds at least, yeah?"
She nagged with max ham, prodding me along.
Yeah, well... we're here now, so even if it flops, gotta try. Motivation? Zilch.
And hey, she wasn't totally off-base.
Us acting normal in the city? Territory's image gets a tiny polish for sure.
Sighing my guts out, I trailed her lead into the city anyway.
*
"—Okay, you remember everything I said earlier, right?"
She turned back for a double-check.
Anxiety kicking in, I mumbled,
"Uh, do we really gotta go this hard? Acting's not my thing..."
"I'm handling most of the acting—Master-nim just stands there all dignified."
My half-assed vibe pissed her off; she griped.
But "stay dignified"? High-difficulty gig for me.
I'm feather-light by nature—stern overlord vibes clash hard.
My dead-fish attitude got another deep sigh outta her, then she hammered it home:
"Hey, Master-nim. I'm repeating myself, but initiative's key? Guild can't see you as a pushover."
"I know, I know."
Worry tsunami incoming.
I'll fuck it up 100%. Fact of life.
How slickly I botch it—for her to cover—that's the game.
One last sigh, lips locked tight.
"—Let's go."
"That's my Master-nim."
She flashed a cocky grin, face snapping serious as she gripped the door slow.
How this blew up outta nowhere? Few hours back.
*
"—My take? Normal routes to fix the image? Dead on arrival."
Valerie dropped it like gospel.
Mid-stride chit-chat, her curveball hit; I clawed for context.
"Master-nim's not clocking the severity yet, so here's the straight dope. Might sting, but no tears, 'kay?"
"Hah, tears? Gimme the rundown already."
Never bantered this long solo with Valerie—turns out her vibe clicks with mine weirdly well.
Her cheeky banter style, or me just being a joke-receiving pro nerd? Who knows.
She paused dramatic-like, then:
"Your territory? Infamous as the 'man-eating territory.'"
"...Ain't wrong."
"Yup. No-return rumors... I half-doubted 'til I lived it, but hindsight? Legit."
"Probably."
Nodded along for her sake, but Tombstone lore: fire mercs, they bail the territory.
Sure, usually ground to paste first—fired wrecked but breathing.
One escapee? Kills the "zero returns" myth dead.
Pre-possession territory deets? No clue. Truth? Locked for now.
"So yeah, us vets treat this as straight facts."
"...Spill."
"Ruelier's Ark City high-roller's secret dump—undesirables ghosted there like trash. Rumor has it."
Dead serious, voice low.
Fresh gut-punch for me—never framed it that way.
Like noir flicks: "Beat his ass and chuck him in the East Sea"—our spot's the damn East Sea?
"I saw it myself, so I know it ain't all that... but optics? Brutal. Prime misunderstand material—even to me. Doc got guild-booted, then estate-dumped, right?"
"C-Come think... yeah?"
Totally tracks, like she said.
Kali proves it—some Ark bigwig eyeing Ruelier as easy "East Sea"? Believable AF.
Not pure "misunderstanding" vibes.
That image? No wonder folks dodge.
Bonus Q: How'd Ray and Valerie waltz in willingly?
She dodges that topic slick—never pressed.
"So, step-by-step grind. Hard promo won't flip it overnight—Master-nim knows that, yeah?"
"Yup."
"Like: Spread word the territory's got real rules, structure—runs smooth vs. the rep?"
"Normal business open" sign vibes?
Yeah, gets it. Starting point? Solid.
"And best quick fix for that—"
She dragged it out, jabbed my chest.
"Put you front and center, Master-nim."
"Eh, me?"
Blanked, blurted it.
She snickered:
"Master-nim, you trip over your own Lord-ness sometimes."
"Ah, uh, do I...?"
Just weeks back, wasn't even this world's denizen.
Staring down my awkward grin, she laid it out:
"Show proper authority. Mercs under thumb firm. Bonus: crank the cruelty dial."
"Nee? Won't that backfire?"
Front half? Checks out. Lord punked by hires? "Lord's a wimp too—total political landfill confirmed."
But cruel mandatory?
She smirked at my Q, nudged my shoulder sly:
"Master-nim, memo this: Mercs? 'No pushover' rule numero uno. Slack, they swarm."
"Like you?" auto-throated—gulped it down again.
She rolled on:
"Pump that prestige. Lord authority rock-solid? We mercs eat that trust up."
—"I'll back your play," she tacked on.
First hear? WTF. Result? Me here, Mercenary Guild eastern Ark City branch, saddled with Ruthless Sovereign acting gig.
...Sigh auto-deploy. Knew it'd be this bullshit, shoulda hunkered in the Labyrinth quiet-like.