Chapter 143 — Promotional Activities

  In just two days,

  Frontier Town entered frenzy mode.

  Three costumes.

  Three completely different vibes.

  That was all it took.

  Corvix Boutique’s appointment slots were fully booked for two months straight.

  Tomas Bakery sold out within hours—every single day.

  The guild quest board? Empty. Completely empty.

  Adventurers even returned with minor self-inflicted injuries just for an excuse to enter the guild clinic.

  And quietly—very quietly—several shops designed their own mascots and submitted direct promotional quests addressed to:

  [Silver Ward]

  Adventurer Guild – Main Hall

  Mireya’s tail puffed out like an over-stressed dandelion.

  A mountain of personal commissions towered over her desk.

  “…This is a nightmare.”

  Across from her, Ivaline and Seraphine stared at the stack in silence.

  “…If I decline these quests?” Ivaline asked carefully.

  “The guild notifies the commissioner and posts them publicly on the board.”

  “…I’ll browse them first. Seraphine, help me?”

  “Of course.”

  They sorted through the pile.

  Edwyn.

  Edric.

  Harlund.

  Brannic.

  Another bakery.

  Butcher stall.

  Smithy.

  Guard post.

  “…Guess today is another fashion show,” Ivaline muttered.

  Seraphine smiled faintly.

  Behind her, the Four Bastion trailed along with dangerous curiosity in their eyes.

  Chronicle, observing from somewhere beyond, wisely chose silence.

  Edwyn Bakery

  “My, my… we don’t see each other for a while and now you’re Tomas’ adopted daughter? Tsk.”

  “Jealous?”

  “Completely. Want to be my daughter too?”

  Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

  “I don’t mind. But Papa, Daddy, and Father will.”

  “…Right. Not worth fighting Corvix and Suniel for custody.”

  Edwyn sighed dramatically and handed her a costume similar to Tomas’.

  “You don’t need to hand out bread. Just hold this sign and smile. Two hours.”

  “After this, I go to the butcher, smithy, and guard post.”

  “Butcher and smithy I understand. But what does a guard post need a mascot for?”

  “I… don’t know.”

  That morning, Edwyn baked extra.

  It wasn’t enough.

  Within hours, he was wheezing behind the counter while Ivaline fanned him desperately with a thin cloth.

  Seraphine and the Four Bastion handled the crowd control and distribution.

  Edwyn?

  One step away from ascending to heaven.

  Butcher Stall

  “BWAHAHAHAHA! Edwyn collapsed already? Figures!”

  “My costume?”

  “No costume!”

  “…Then what am I doing?”

  “Eating.”

  “…What?”

  Edric began grilling meat over open flame, sprinkling his personal spice blend over it.

  The aroma spread like a tactical assault.

  “All you need to do is sit there, eat, and react honestly.”

  “That’s all?”

  “YEP!”

  Ivaline lifted a skewer.

  Blow. Bite.

  Juice burst free. Tender fibers tore apart effortlessly.

  She paused.

  “Chronicle.”

  A brief consultation later—

  “The meat is juicy and tender. The herb blend leaves a lingering aroma. A slight charcoal char enhances the natural flavor beautifully. It’s simple… and delicious.”

  “BWAHAHAHA! GOOD! TRY THIS ONE!”

  The onlookers stared.

  A beautiful girl blowing on grilled meat, lips glistening with juice.

  Seraphine appeared instantly, wiping her lips with a cloth and hissing at the crowd with territorial hostility.

  Aldric and the others formed an orderly queue system.

  By noon, Edric’s stall was nearly stripped clean. When grills couldn’t keep up, customers bought cured ham, bacon, and spice blends to recreate it at home.

  Four Bastion collapsed from exhaustion.

  Edric paid them in meat.

  Fair trade.

  Harlund Smithy

  “You look fine. Your friends, however…”

  Aldric, Bram, and Nyssa looked like they had survived war.

  “Do I change costume?” Ivaline asked.

  “No. Just demonstrate my weapons.”

  “…I can handle swords. Spear, somewhat. Dagger. But axe and bow—”

  “You brought friends.”

  Silence.

  “…Aldric,” Nyssa whispered.

  “We didn’t accept this quest—”

  Bram was already posing with a morning star.

  “Free maintenance. Discount on new gear. Direct commission without waiting.”

  “WE ARE GLADLY DOING IT!”

  Adventurers gathered quickly.

  Seeing competent fighters test weapons in front of the smithy stirred desire.

  Sales didn’t explode instantly.

  But long-term? Brilliant strategy.

  By evening, multiple adventurers were calculating their savings and heading toward new quests.

  Harlund smiled quietly.

  Guard Post

  Brannic greeted them with a grin.

  “I thought you’d refuse me!”

  “Costume?” Ivaline asked immediately.

  “No costume. Spar with my men.”

  “…Why?”

  “Recruitment session in three days. I want people to see what our guards are capable of.”

  The town square had been converted into a makeshift arena.

  Bell rang.

  First guard—eliminated instantly.

  Second—lasted thirty seconds.

  Third—one full minute.

  Only Brannic himself posed a genuine challenge.

  The crowd roared.

  By sunset, applications for the guard post had tripled.

  Mission: Success.

  Aftermath

  Ivaline declined the remaining promotional quests.

  But it was too late.

  Confident adventurers began accepting those commissions themselves.

  Some succeeded and became exclusive mascots.

  Some failed and reapplied.

  For nearly a month, Frontier Town transformed into a walking fashion festival.

  All because three overenthusiastic fathers wanted to dress up their daughter.

  Chronicle recorded the event in his next archive.

  And laughed alone.

  Meanwhile—

  Ivaline had become Seraphine’s personal mannequin.

  They strolled through town together, Seraphine thoughtfully selecting outfits that “might suit her.”

  By the end of the month, their home contained enough clothes to wear a different costume every day for an entire season.

  Ivaline stared at the pile.

  “…This is how it begins, isn’t it?”

  Seraphine only smiled.