The Drunk's Blunt Advice and the New Hidden Quest
Tarte's frustration with the drunken man's advice had faded into something sharper, more thoughtful. When you peeled it back one layer at a time, the old man was right about one thing. You didn't learn swordsmanship with a body that didn't suit it. Save the beauty for people who could actually use it. But context mattered here, just like in language. Everyone had context. Their situation and the life they'd lived. Logical loopholes like "a pretty face wouldn't work on a beast or monster" could be set aside for now. Tarte's blood was boiling. Did he think she was fighting with her life out of some hero worship? *Why the hell am I even listening to nonsense from that drunk uncle?* It wasn't just any drunk uncle. It was a strong drunk uncle. Not just strong—a dangerous, experienced old hand who looked like he'd already carved through more than a few people. Where the hell had he even come from? *NPC my ass.* This wasn't an isekai. This was the Tower itself. A world where everyone died, gave out experience, and dropped items. Whatever backstory the old man had, it was fake, woven by the Demon. And yet here he was lecturing *her*, a real human being, like she was some stupid student. If this were a game, it would be a total loss. Teaching content like this had been obsolete for decades. *Yeah, NPC. Suddenly a sword master pops up.* He wasn't even real. That realization had been enough to cool her temper. Shifting her perspective, a new idea clicked. *Then it's not a power-up event?* Why was he even here? Every element in the village—the elders, the youths, the Forest Druid, the Deer God and Wolf God—had been placed to push the scenario forward. The true protagonist of any Tower scenario was Team A or Team B. Everything that crossed their path had meaning. So this old man wasn't dropped here by accident. For a long while he'd drilled with the sword, mind racing. Swinging it on pure instinct would only turn the real thing into a blade-swinging game. If someone actually knew how to teach it properly... *But how do I convince him to teach me?* The old man clearly hated Tarte. He ambushed her, tore at her until she screamed, then vanished. If he really hated her, he wouldn't have stopped at slipping and letting her drop the sword. He'd have shattered her shoulder, severed her hand, or done something far worse. From that angle, it looked less like hatred and more like reluctant approval. An awkward kindness born from the belief that his opinion was infallible and he could read everyone else's troubles like a book. "Cutting me some slack until I drop the sword." Maybe it was twisted benevolence. "Then how much talent do I need to earn your approval? I only picked up the sword three days ago, and I've been throwing myself into real combat without a single theory lesson. Isn't that enough?" Tarte kept her tone light, laying out her own reality plainly. She believed in herself. After everything they'd been through, she was clearly skilled enough. She'd watched her party members panic and fall apart. She'd seen comrades who couldn't even hold their own body weight. On her very first real fight, she'd earned cheers from the spectators with a performance no one had expected. If that wasn't talent, what was? The old hands always said the same thing: a talented newbie was their favorite kind. "Three days?" The bait had been swallowed. The man who'd been about to leave the inn turned, his gaze pinning Tarte where she stood. "It's no good! Your body's completely unsuited for fighting! The only way for you to survive is to stay the hell away from battle!" "With eyes that can see through a disadvantage, isn't that good enough?" She was basically interviewing herself. Her large breasts threw off her center of gravity, limited her arm's range, and made her a bigger target. But everyone had admitted her eyes were sharp enough. How did she read the battlefield so well during combat? "You've got that level of skill?" "Exactly." "Then guess which hand catches this coin." The man pulled a coin from his pocket, set it on his finger, and flicked it skyward. He crossed his hands and clenched his fists. A simple game: catch the falling coin in one hand or the other. Tarte had watched intently, then pointed at the man's face. "Switching hands mid-air to grab it with your mouth—that's cheating." The man feigned catching it, then flicked it straight into his mouth. The whole motion had happened in the blink of an eye and the man was too perfect. Most people wouldn't have caught it. *This is straight-up circus.* Tarte had thought it. He was the one pulling off the trick, not her. Was he just trying to raise the mood at a drinking party? Or was he running a scam? Either way, the coin wasn't for calculating later. The dirtiest thing in the world was money, and she doubted anyone was supposed to put that in their mouth. True to her worries, the man spat the coin out, pocketed it again. "Your eyes are decent at least. But with that blunt body, you're not cut out for this. You'll die for sure." Tarte's blood heated again at the muttered warning. What was she supposed to do about the body she had? She couldn't cut off her chest. Reading her thoughts, the old man chuckled. "Pity. If you'd been born a man, maybe you'd have made it far." He turned and walked away as if heading for the door. "Hey! Wait!" So it wasn't a power-up event after all. Just a frustrating old man. Or maybe she'd been the wrong person to approach. Maybe she hadn't satisfied the hidden quest conditions. Tarte's eyes caught the man dropping something as he left. She dashed after him and picked up the book. [Basic Swordsmanship Manual] *What kind of trash loot is this? You can buy one anywhere.* The man was already gone from sight by the time she'd even opened the cover. Tarte sprinted outside the inn and scanned the surroundings, but there was nothing. *Running like my legs were on fire just because I blinked for two seconds is kind of funny.* Whether this meeting had ended better or worse, Tarte couldn't say. Time couldn't be turned back, so she had no choice but to make the best of things right now. She spent the night reading the manual cover to cover and practicing until her teammates woke. She'd made them read it too. Without knowing the basics of swordsmanship, leaving the village felt like a terrible idea. That's why the Starry Night Party didn't leave the inn until the day after next. "Not just me. I trained too." Thanks to the inn's privacy mode, the moment Tarte appeared after three days of absence, the viewers exploded with excitement. It wasn't even a broadcast Tarte had started. Without the inn you couldn't pull it off, so it was annoying as hell. But it wasn't all bad. No matter how pretty someone was, they lost meaning if no one watched them. No matter how cool their actions, they became hollow without an audience. Sharing the joy of growth was its own little pleasure. "How strong we've become? We'll show you in the real thing." With the Wolf God's trial over, it was time for the Bear God's trial. When the Forest Druid's mini-map pointed the way and the party prepared to leave the village, a girl stepped in front of them. "Excuse me." She was the same girl who'd attacked Tarte the moment they returned from finishing the Wolf God's trial. "I'm really sorry about that." "It's fine. The situation called for it." Tarte tried to brush the girl's apology aside lightly. Who could blame a girl who lost her parents and went mad? It was just a tragic mess. There had been plenty of misunderstandings too. *Stealing and massacring were two completely different things.* "I heard another group of outsiders were the real culprits." The girl looked far from calmed. She was still burning. "And the Saintess's party is fighting those people. So please take me with you." As party leader, Tarte weighed every factor. The girl's swordsmanship when they ambushed them. How she might fare against Team A. And the value of this girl's life. "That would be difficult." Tarte didn't treat NPCs as real people. She wouldn't shed a tear if this girl died right in front of her. But to the viewers watching, she looked far too human. So they would demand she be protected. She wasn't skilled enough to take on that kind of risk. So she declined. [Hidden Quest] [Help Aira get her revenge.] [Success reward: ???] [Failure: Aira dies] The quest had popped up out of nowhere.
[Help Aira Get Her Revenge]
📍 Location: Village outskirts / Unknown
🎁 Reward: Unknown