Morning Chaos at the Adventurer's Guild
The Adventurer's Guild in Molingta is always bustling in the morning. The receptionists' mornings are always hectic.
"Hey, you bonehead! How many times do I have to tell you to only grab requests matching your rank?!"
"The reward for the new labyrinth discovery will be paid out after we verify it separately, so please be patient and wait."
"Ah, you there! If you're gonna fight, take it outside... you fucking bitches! Aaaah!! Guards! Call the guards!!"
It's enough to make your head spin. But even in this chaotic hellhole, there's a temperature difference.
"Yaaawn~"
"Heh, my nails look pretty nice today."
Unlike the female receptionists waging war without weapons, two male receptionists sit brazenly at their desks, yawning sleepily and filing their nails.
With their delicately pretty faces and skinny, reed-like builds that hardly scream "man," our fragile little Slim A and Slim B are, as always, luxuriating in their leisure while the women work themselves into a vein-popping frenzy.
"Ahem, ahem. Ahh~ Ahem! Smith? Go grab me a cup of water."
"Yeah, me too."
And they boss people around like crazy. Of course, the "Smith" those assholes are calling is me.
"Ah, sure."
Seo Min-su, a fourth-year drifter in this world and K-youth, disguised as a Sahara tribesman named Smith in this frontier desert city, scraping by for survival.
"Fucking pricks."
I slip out the back door, hawk a loogie on the floor with a 'Ptooey!', then head to the storage room for an empty oak barrel and make for the well.
"Oh, sweet."
Water's precious everywhere in this world—even a tub for washing at an inn costs money—so registered adventurers usually bathe at the guild's well. That's why it's always swarming with adventurers except late at night, but today, for some reason, it's dead empty.
"I'm gonna... someday stuff those fuckers in a barrel and toss 'em down this well."
Filling the oak barrel from the water skin on the pulley, I mutter under my breath. This little grumble time while pumping water is one of my rare simple pleasures lately.
I'd love to just flick their foreheads—thwack!—and watch 'em double over yelling "Ow!"—but unfortunately, unlike me with no proper citizenship, those two are locals born and bred in this city. I can't touch 'em.
"Whew, this much is a breeze now."
Leaving just a third of space, I hoist the full barrel easily and head back through the rear door, up the familiar stairs to the second-floor guild kitchen.
"Hey~ I was just thinking you'd be here soon—pffft~!"
A woman with short orange hair shimmering warmly, freckles around her nose that suit her signature fierce grin perfectly. Kitchen manager and big sis Amelia downs a beer refreshingly and flashes a smile.
"Same as always, sis—no rest for you."
"Huh? No rest? You little shit, then I'll eat this myself."
"Hehe, sis, your shoulders look super tense."
Seeing her poke at the plate of well-charred meat chunks with that fierce grin, I set the barrel down roughly and hurry to her side.
"You little shit? When did I say you could eat?"
"Mmphphmerh…."
"Aaaah!! I told you not to talk with your mouth full, you little shit!!"
Her mouth's foul, but unlike her words, she's grinning as she watches. I shut up, shove some mystery beast meat in, and gulp it down.
"Still busy as hell, huh."
"Duh, anyone who doesn't wanna drop dead shoves somethin' in their gut, so yeah, busy's normal, asshole."
"Words of wisdom."
Like downstairs, the kitchen's slammed. Cooks hacking away like maniacs, heaving heavy iron griddles onto hot plates and shaking 'em furiously. I glance at sis, the only idle one here.
"Lunch'll be meat-loaded salad, please."
"You're nuts. Why the hell would salad have meat?"
Leaving her chuckling in disbelief, I grab a round wooden tray and a few cups, head back to the barrel, fill 'em just right with practiced hands, set 'em on the tray, and head downstairs.
"Kahk~ Ptooey!"
Of course, before delivery, I don't forget to add my special MSG for Slim A and B.
Prep done, I slowly crack open the back door to the counter with the tray full of cups—for today's reputation-building at the guild.
At the same time, a chill crawls up my spine.
Cheap banter and shouting should be spilling out, but from the half-open door, nothing—just the creak of this worn knob in my grip.
So I know, even if I don't wanna. My one assigned adventurer after two months on the job—the city's only Silver-rank adventurer—is here at the guild.
Fuck. I'm screwed.
Suddenly my mouth's dry as sand, legs shaking. Like that time as a kid when I bought a toy cockroach to prank Mom, only to get "filial son" treatment turned physical. Pure terror, anyway.
But the door's half-open, and without guild guarantee I can't even leave town—pitiful slave that I am—so I have no choice but to push it all the way and step in.
And sure enough.
"……."
"……."
Our Silver-rank adventurer Siron—red hair, fierce slightly curved eyes full of deadly charm—glares at me from my counter, head cocked way sideways.
Gulp. My throat moves on its own, dry-swallowing nonstop.
"You little shit. How long you gonna stand there?"
"Y-yes? C-coming, ma'am."
That irresistible voice makes my head spin. Legs wobbling, I somehow shuffle back to my spot and set the tray down roughly.
Thud!
"Uh……."
"What, asshole."
"N-nothing."
I just shut up, watching her grab my special MSG cup and chug it.
"Hm, this water tastes kinda salty… you, you little shit."
"Y-yes?!"
"Somethin' in the water?"
"N-no way! J-just pumped from the well."
"……Yeah?"
Distrustful, she eyes the other cups—chilling me to the bone.
"S-so, what brings you here? You usually come evenings, but early morning today…."
"You little shit? So you're bitching I came in the morning?"
"No no! No way."
Her gaze shifts from cups to me—success—but my head spins again. Long live the infantry. Realizing now, you're a saint, buddy. Beauty or not, this bullshit makes tears well up.
"Moron. Whatever, why else would I come? To report a completed request."
Disdain dripping, she slams a fist-sized cloth pouch on the counter.
I peek at her eyes, untie it quick. Inside, a stack of request forms stamped by the caravan leader—ones from half a month ago for escorting a merchant group. Looks like she brought 'em as rep.
"G-good work."
Forcing a natural smile, I yank open the drawer below, grab the reward pouch, and offer it politely with both hands.
Thud! Siron snatches it roughly.
"Ahem. Anyway, check my contribution points?"
"……? One sec."
Her eyes relax level as she pockets the heavy coin pouch. I open another drawer, check her points.
"Lemme see… 2450, plus today's requests… makes…… 2980…."
"What the fuck, asshole?!"
BAM! The counter splits halfway.
"Bullshit!! No way!! You!! You must've fucked up the math, moron!! Hey!! You there!!"
"Eek?!"
Siron, eyes ruby-red blazing brighter in rage, points at Slim B—he looks ready to faint, twitching spasmodically.
"You, asshole. Recalculate it!!"
"Aaaah!! Y-yes, ma'am……!!"
Even taking a faceful of flung contribution papers, he just trembles and obeys.
Meanwhile, dread hits me. What if—no way, but what if I actually screwed up? Fuck. They say humanities majors die faster than STEM in another world. Looks true.
"Why's it takin' so long?!"
"D-done!!"
"Yeah? So what's the score?"
"Uh……2980…."
"Aaaargh!!"
"Hiiieek!!"
Siron screams in frenzy; Slim B finally foams at the mouth and passes out.
"What're you lookin' at, you fucks!! Move, shitheads!!"
Her near-mad roar parts the adventurers like the Red Sea. She kicks the guild door like it'll shatter and storms out.
I dunno why she's like that.
"Kek, kehheheh."
Mopey over the split counter at first, but seeing him flop on the floor foaming and twitching? I nod happily.
Then, miracle of miracles, I grab a surviving cup from the tray and chug.
"Pffft…!!"
Shit. It was the spit one.