Anomaly (3)

Excluding Evel and Zepeto, it had been ages since I'd had such a long conversation with anyone. No, this was probably the first time ever. It felt like today I'd spilled more words than in all my time in this world combined. I suddenly rediscovered a truth I'd long forgotten: social interaction is exhausting.

"Wait here a moment."

The guild master seated us in the reception room and left. I rubbed my stiff nape and sank into the sofa. The plush, luxurious cushion enveloped my back, easing some of the fatigue.

He was a man utterly lacking in intuition. Two Heart Image magic users had come to join his guild, yet instead of groveling in gratitude, he dragged his feet with screenings and formalities. No flexibility at all. People like him usually went bankrupt in business.

"Here you go. Temporary adventurer registration tags. And the basic supplies you were so eager for."

After a short wait, the guild master returned, his face etched with weariness as he handed over the items. I gazed at him impassively before speaking.

"It's Iris, not 'you'."

That was the second thing about him I didn't like. He had this nasty habit of lumping people into vague pronouns instead of using their names. A name is the foundation of all human relations, the basic measure of respect for another person. Substituting it with a pronoun? That either means you have zero respect for them or your intelligence is pitifully low. And this name? It was given to me by Zepeto himself.

"Thank you."

I took the items from... Rainerus? Whatever his name was. Two small wooden tags engraved with my name and Evel's, plus a hefty leather pouch. I counted everything meticulously to ensure nothing was missing, then left the guild.

The worn-out inn's first-floor dining hall. Steam rose invitingly from the grease-stained wooden table.

"Meat!"

Evel grinned, gripping her wooden spoon. Before her sat a hearty stew loaded with chunky potatoes and mystery meat lumps.

"Tasty?"

"Eh, it's okay."

Said the girl stuffing her cheeks like they might burst. I silently tore off a hunk of hard rye bread and dunked it into the stew. It wasn't exceptional, but it filled the gnawing hunger just fine.

Three nights, dinners included. Our funds ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠were now exactly zero. And hitting rock bottom meant a survival threat.

Let's sort this out. What needs doing next? For planning, start with a macro goal. Aimless marching is torture. Pin down one big destination, then build micro steps toward it.

The top macro goal: healing my corrupted Heart Image.

When Zepeto passed, I vowed it. You'd poured care into this life like watering a plant, so I'd make it bloom. That meant restoring my Heart Image—reclaiming my original emotions, never drying up again.

Now, micro steps to achieve it.

First: immediate survival. Zero cash means homelessness in three days. Dive into the labyrinth and scavenge something ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠sellable, pronto.

Second: seek artifacts that can interfere with the Heart Image. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠It's just rumors so far, but any possibility makes it priority one. That's why we're in this labyrinth city, why we're entering the maze.

Third: stricter control over Dusty. The forest cabin was lax, but Anomaly is different. No more needless misunderstandings or trouble. Like that lobby incident earlier—unfair as it felt, I hadn't ignored or enabled its menacing aura. I swear, I had no clue it was leaking. Can't rein it in if I don't notice. Anyway, to prevent repeats, more vigilance. But I'm not hiding it away forever. When needed, I'll use it without hesitation. Plenty of wizards wield far weirder magic, as Zepeto said—no need to over-hide.

"Mm."

Perfect. As systematic as it gets. Satisfied, I opened the leather pouch from the guild master.

Clink.

Modest contents spilled onto the table: several crudely drawn maps of Labyrinth Level 1 on parchment. Two vials of low-grade healing potion with pale red liquid. And something compass-like.

Standard rookie survival kit—bare minimum to keep newbies alive. Grateful for it, with no lunch money tomorrow.

Head back to the guild early morning. I recalled a request board in the lobby. Money's the urgency, so snag something labyrinth-adjacent.

"Phew."

"All done?"

"Yeah."

"Then up to bed. Busy days ahead."

After dinner, we headed to our room for sleep. Back at the cabin, separate beds each. Sharing one? Uncomfortably ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠cramped. Worst, Evel's body was freezing…!

"Ugh…."

In the dimming night, I shivered and vowed: tomorrow, rake in cash and escape this misery….

"Uh… um… no good."

"Why not?"

I stared down the receptionist at the guild's first-floor counter—the same woman who'd greeted us yesterday.

"Uh… the requests you brought… their difficulty… um…."

She was fine otherwise, but that trailing-off habit… Yesterday it frustrated me into demanding the guild master. Same today. I slid the parchments across the counter again.

"What's wrong with the difficulty?"

"Too high… for your adventurer rank… um…."

"We're Heart Image magic users."

"Even so… um… yeah…."

"Get the guild master."

She headed upstairs, soon returning with him.

"What's the issue?"

"Sorry, but does she always talk like that?"

"State your business briefly."

"I want this request."

His eyes fell on the parchment.

"No."

"Why?"

"Can't you read 'minimum qualification'? Look at what's around your neck."

I glanced down. The small wooden tag from yesterday hung there.

"Wooden block, huh."

"Then bring requests matching that rank."

Lowest wood rank for fresh registrations—basically temp status.

"I'm a Heart Image user."

"…And?"

"Don't skilled folks get perks? Start at silver or something."

"Guild ranks consider ability, but credit matters more. Talent's useless if you botch requests and tank our reputation."

Start from the bottom to build trust, in other words.

"Plus, didn't you say you're short on cash? Skip the west labyrinth—entry fee's steep."

"…Entry fee?"

I thought I'd misheard. They charge to enter? Already fleeced two silvers at the gates, now more for the maze? Double-dipping?

I checked my pockets. Empty.

This blocks the labyrinth entirely.

"No guild welfare or aid?"

"Earn a higher rank first."

To rank up, enter labyrinth. To enter, pay. No money.

"We have no money."

"No worries. Wood ranks have plenty outside the maze."

He nodded toward a shabby board—worlds apart from the main one I'd plucked from. Approaching, I scanned the plastered requests: find lost dog, clean sewers, exterminate horned rats in warehouse….

Barely lunch money. What about comfy rooms? Private beds? Show me big payers! We're third-stage Heart Image mages! My hand itched. Time for a reflection essay, maybe.

As I reached into my bosom for parchment—

"Iris."

Evel's voice from behind.

"Look at this."

"Huhuhu… huhuhuhu…!"

What she'd quietly pointed to: a gaunt man, dragged along by Evel like a rag.

"Huhuhu… you two… the new Heart Image mages from yesterday… huhuhu."

My brows furrowed. Evel picked up another weirdo. He wore a threadbare gray cloak pulled low. Tattered pant hems caked in dirt, skinny hands clutching stained wooden dice that clattered like he'd just gambled.

Sunken, hollow eyes stared at nothing, spilling creepy chuckles nonstop.

"Huhuhu… Heart Image mages… so young… impressive… hehehe."

I sized him up. What a freak.

"Are you a mage, by chance?"

The question slipped out.