Porter: Johann 9
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Start Village
The cradle of all adventures.
The birthplace of countless heroes.
A place where nameless warriors, determined to defy the world's tempests and etch their names into history, awaken alongside throngs of adventurers dreaming of striking it rich under their wings.
Start Village is always bustling. It's packed with adventurer parties eager to delve into the nearby dungeons, a place with no quiet days amid the constant clamor. That noisiness is one of the village's defining traits.
Most villagers make their living selling goods or services to those adventurers. Local merchants buy up pricey treasures from them and trade with the outside world. At its core, the village thrives on those dungeons.
That's why the busiest spot in town is the Adventurer Guild. Countless adventurers flock here to register for dungeon expeditions.
But the guild isn't just about dungeon business. It also brokers requests from adventurers who come seeking work.
Adventurers skilled enough for dungeons are versatile enough for any job, and there's always demand for talent like that. Requests even pour in from outside the village now and then.
"Let's see. Who's available and worth a damn?"
The guild's veteran receptionist scratched his head as he reviewed the request left by a mage. It was from a hero party bearing the Flame Stigma.
These flame heroes had real potential. Barring any mishaps, they'd go far. Keeping on their good side would benefit the guild in all sorts of ways.
He never half-assed anything, but he was putting extra care into this one. The mage's demand was simple: cheap labor.
"Labor costs keep climbing. For pocket change like this, only outsiders are an option."
Outsider
Rare humans who drop into this world. Strangely, they speak the local tongue.
Some say they're summoned by the Demon King's magic. Others claim they're heroes sent by the gods.
No one knows for sure what outsiders really are. Even they just say they were sent here without warning.
The rookie hero heating up the guild right now was a fresh outsider, dropped in just recently.
"If another one like that fell here, it'd be a goldmine."
He muttered to himself, and as if on cue, the bell by the guild's front door tinkled softly.
Ding-a-ling.
With people constantly coming and going, the bell rang nonstop—it was routine. The other receptionists ignored it. But this veteran glanced up, eyes flicking to the newcomer. A pro greets everyone professionally.
"Welcome."
The man who entered was stunningly handsome, the kind of face that made eyes widen. Unforgettable at a glance. His mere presence shifted the guild's atmosphere.
"So this is the Adventurer Guild?"
He seemed new, muttering as he awkwardly shuffled around like a country bumpkin fresh in the big city, gawking at everything.
His brown robe wasn't fancy, but it didn't scream naive villager either.
That overly cautious posture despite the rags... Gotta be an outsider. One hundred percent.
The receptionist, who'd seen plenty of outsiders, pegged him instantly. He wasn't wrong.
The man approached the counter. Simple reason: the seat in front was empty.
"Is this the Adventurer Guild?"
He repeated his earlier mutter verbatim. The receptionist nodded.
"It is. You just arrived in this world, I take it."
At those words, the man's eyes sharpened. If he were a cat, his fur would bristle, tail straight up. He radiated wariness.
"Relax. Outsiders aren't that rare."
"Outsider... So that's what you call people from other worlds here."
"Exactly."
The man nodded, easing up at the explanation. Good that his emotions were easy to read. The receptionist thought so.
"People told me this was the place for info."
"You've come to the right spot. How long have you been in this world?"
"Just got here. Asked around till I found the info hub. Everyone pointed me to the Adventurer Guild."
"You're adapting fast. Ever been through something like this before?"
The receptionist half-joked, and the man just smiled without a word.
"What info are you after?"
"Looking for someone."
"Someone? Didn't you just arrive? Ah, from your world, right?"
Splitting up with a companion upon arrival—classic. The receptionist figured.
"Yeah."
"Info's no problem, but it costs. New to the world, you probably don't have coin."
The man pulled a small, heavy pouch from his robe pocket. It jingled—definitely money.
"Fair warning: no foreign currency."
"Gold coins. What's gold worth here?"
He produced a small gold coin, intricately minted—high craftsmanship. The receptionist took it, turning it over to inspect.
As a guild receptionist, appraising items was basic.
It was legit, valuable—not some cheap alloy.
Locals knew receptionists could appraise, but outsiders sometimes tried scams. Dealing with them was part of the job.
"Pure gold. Payment accepted."
"Tell me about a guy named Vints."
"Oh ho. He's from your world, eh?"
"Your reaction says he's already famous."
The man looked uneasy. The receptionist nodded and rattled off Vints' info.
Stuff anyone nursing a drink at any tavern could hear. No refunds, though.
"...That's everything I know."
"He showed up about three months ago?"
"Yes."
The man's face darkened.
"Different timelines, huh."
He muttered cryptically, then met the receptionist's eyes, stroking his chin.
"Any idea where Vints headed?"
"Heard he left Start Village. Beyond that, no clue. Probably Demon King Castle?"
"Demon King Castle... Where's that?"
"Here's a map."
The receptionist pulled a fresh map from a drawer. Cheap at any general store—bargain for a gold coin.
The man scanned it, nodded, and stood. Eager to chase Vints right then.
"Nosy question, but you planning to follow Vints?"
"Yeah. Came to this world for him."
"Complicated backstory, huh? Won't pry. But if he's Demon King Castle-bound, going solo's dangerous."
"That so?"
"Vints has a solid party. Classic balance: mage, priest, thief."
Party. The man's eyes lit up like magic lamps.
"A party... Can I join one?"
"Only one's hiring right now. But..."
The receptionist trailed off. The man crossed his arms, displeased.
"But?"
"They're after a porter, not a fighter. Better than solo, though."
"Porter?"
"Yep. This party's info."
He showed a file with the hero party's basics, including photos.
Seeing the photo, the man licked his lips like a serpent, smiling.
The receptionist startled. The man's vibe shifted—more like a mask slipping.
Did I screw up?
Too late. The man snatched the file.
"Perfect. Introduce me."
"Uh... It's porters they're after. You sure?"
"Can't be picky right now."
Already paid. The receptionist nodded, ignoring the unease, and gave the inn's name.
"Guild token. Show it—they'll get it."
He handed over the guild badge. The man took it and left.
"Feels like a storm just blew through."
The bad vibe lingered, but the fat gold coin chased it away.
"Should be fine."
The receptionist shook his head.
"Mage. No porter yet?"
"Quit whining. Told the guild. They're desperate for hands too."
"Yeah? Hope he shows before the delve."
The hero slurped soup, spoon in hand. The priest beamed as usual, chiming in.
"Totally. Delusion of the Grub is that dungeon we flubbed last time. Extra hands would help."
"P-Priest. It wasn't a fail—just off our game."
The hero grinned sheepishly, correcting her. Foolish look.
The priest laughed, Oh right! So carefree. Or shady?
"Eat hearty. Dungeons mean starving."
The mage said sternly.
"Ugh, hate that. No rest spots in Delusion of the Grub—real downside."
"I'm fine! Did fasts at the monastery. Holidays and such."
"Fasting on holidays? Backwards, no? Priests are tough."
"Hehe. Not like you, Hero."
The hero and priest bantered, laughing. Then one approached.
"Looking for a porter?"