"I don't have any money..."
The words slipped out in a defeated whisper as I sprawled across the creaky inn bed, flipping open my wallet like it was a bad joke. Empty. Pathetic. A handful of coins rattled inside—barely enough to make a sound.
"Five hundred lien... This is a disaster."
That pittance wouldn't snag me a proper room for the night. Heck, it might stretch to a couple of rock-hard loaves from the baker's discard bin, if I sweet-talked the guy. My stomach growled in protest, already imagining the dry crumbs.
"Damn it all! How did I end up this broke?!"
I knew exactly how. Laziness? Sure. But the real culprit? No work. Zero quests. Zilch income. I'd always scraped by with a quick gig here, a monster hunt there—just enough to refill the coffers before crashing back into hibernation mode. But now? Trapped. Cornered.
"It's all because of that blasted hero..."
Rage bubbled up. I nearly hurled the feather-light wallet across the room, watching it sail like a sad, deflated bird.
Flashback to twelve days ago: Pink-haired tornado bursts in, demands I join her party. My genius plan? Ghost her. Hole up in this flea-ridden inn, wait for the storm to pass. "She'll give up and leave town," I told myself. "Problem solved."
Wrong.
"Why is she *still* lurking in this city?"
Yesterday proved it. Desperate for cash, I slunk to the guild hall, eyes darting for pink. There she was—Letty—bellowing at the receptionist, arms flailing. "Black-haired adventurer! D-rank! Lazy eyes! Have you seen him?!"
Panic. U-turn. Sprint. Heart pounding, I bolted back to hiding. Overheard snippets as I fled: "Still searching..." "Hero's orders..." Yeah, they weren't letting go. That stalker princess had the whole guild on alert.
Staying cooped up? Impossible without funds. The innkeeper was already side-eyeing me for overdue rent. Venture out for a job? Risk capture. It was a no-win cage.
"...No choice. Gotta take a quest."
After pacing the floorboards raw, I caved. Money first, freedom later. I'd hit the guild at dawn—before her crew stirred. Slip in, snag something easy, vanish into the sunrise. Brilliant. Foolproof.
---
Guild hall. Pre-dawn shadows. No pink in sight. I crept to the request board, scanning frantically.
One poster screamed jackpot.
**ESCORT MISSION: TO THE NEIGHBORING KINGDOM OF ETTAL**
- **Requirements:** Combat prowess against monsters and bandits en route.
- **Open to all ranks—no exceptions.**
- **Party size:** About 10 guards.
- **Perks:** Luxury carriages supplied; pack your own grub.
- **Payout:** Flat 150,000 lien base—bonuses for extras.
- **Client:** Kept confidential.
Ettal? Five cozy days by carriage. That's *30,000 lien daily*—insane for escort work. Peasants paid peanuts; this reeked of nobility. Or desperation.
"Shady client? Whatever. No rank check? Perfect for a D-rank ghost. And heading *out of town*? Sayonara, Letty!"
Hesitation lasted two seconds. Lucrative gigs like this vanished fast—snatched by pros. I slammed my acceptance at the desk clerk. "Details?"
"Departure: Tomorrow morning. Sharp. They're in a rush—hence the fat purse."
Jackpot. Early exit meant dodging the hero hunt. With the advance, I'd eat like a king tonight.
Slipped back undetected. Haggled my last 500 lien for stable space—hay bed, horse breath included. Shoved the affectionate stallion away ("Not tonight, buddy"), ignored the hunger pangs, and crashed.
---
**Dawn. Caravan rendezvous. Foggy square.**
A familiar voice chirped through the mist.
"Long time no see! You never filed the party app, so I brought the form myself! Just sign right here—permanent ink!"
Pink hair. Sparkling garnet eyes. Letty. Waving papers like victory flags.
My blood froze. The world tilted.
"Why are *you* here...?"