Ah, the smell of freedom…

  …and rotted wood.

  As I stepped inside, I readied my temporary mob-character gameplay plan, while I silently braced myself for bullying.

  You know the usual tropes, like the bandit adventurer:

  “Hey you. You’ve got some cash on you, don’t ya?”

  Or the arrogant one:

  “How dare you mock adventurers with your weak existence?”

  Or even the classic drunk:

  “I’m bored. Fight me, Random!”

  The standard isekai guild encounter where everyone looks down on protagonist-kun… until he suddenly beats them all to a pulp and the entire building erupts into:

  “Wow! He was strong and just hid his power the whole time!”

  And then everyone claps.

  The atmosphere, however, was very-very different.

  Worried faces were buried in maps and inventory checklists.

  People quietly counted coins while others discussed strategies or special attacks in hushed voices.

  No shouting.

  No boasting.

  And no arrogance...

  They stood quietly at their tables or in front of the quest board, carefully balancing danger with payment.

  Of course they did.

  This was a living world, after all, where the arrogant are the first to die. The ones who keep living are cautious.

  After all adventuring wasn’t a dream job for them like it was for me.

  No.

  They had reasons to be here.

  Actual good reasons!

  Some may have committed crimes, their options reduced to the few jobs willing to accept mercenaries and assassins.

  Some might have a little sister whose smile had to be protected.

  Others could be supporting a bedridden parent in desperate need of medicine.

  This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  My gaze drifted toward a man in dark-green clothing sitting alone at a corner table, studying a map in complete silence.

  His body was covered in scars. Burn marks and stitches ran across one hand. Thin cuts crossed his lips, his eyes, even the bridge of his nose.

  He looked like the edgy type of character, but I bet he was forced to be here.

  You're earning money so your little sister can go to school. HOW NOBLE! Sniiiiiiiiiiif!

  He looked at me with weird panic, as if he could read my mind; then quickly dismissed the whole ordeal and returned to his map, pretending I do not exist.

  I, naturally, stared impolitely—analyzing his wounds, trying to guess what cool nickname he got from them.

  Something epic, like “Night’s Edge.”

  Or “Shadow Traveler.”

  Or maybe “The Completionist.”

  Because he’s never failed a quest before.

  My thinking session was interrupted by a very loud bald man who appeared out of nowhere, half drunk. Normally, he’d be the type of character you’d hate on sight, but I personally liked him.

  Why?

  Well… ehehehe.

  Because he was shorter than me.

  Finally.

  A victory!

  Despite my instant fondness for him, I didn’t interfere. He was heading toward The Completionist to be annoying, and seal his own fate—the guild had been far too peaceful anyway.

  I'll bring a beer to your grave, short baldie!

  (????′; - ;`)

  I let nature run its course.

  “Hey,” he hiccupped. “How’s it going, Scar?”

  I froze.

  Did he just call him… Scar?

  The edgy character was about to reply.

  “Eh, survivin—”

  “Haaa!?”

  I burst out loud before he could finish.

  “Your name is Scar? Really? That’s your name?”

  I pointed accusingly as both men turned toward me.

  “That is the most uncreative name imaginable! Don’t set people’s expectations so high only to pick the most bland, generic name possible!”

  Silence filled the room.

  Oops.

  There goes my mission of being a background mob character.

  They stared at me in confusion, as if I were a modern-day cookbook that suddenly fell from the sky in a very dramatic manner.

  Understandable reaction, not-understandable naming process.

  Whatever.

  I shrank back down and quietly let them continue their conversation while I retreated toward the receptionist.

  ( `???`)

  Far from the main entrance stood a massive desk. I slowly approached it, analyzing the surroundings.

  To my left: a staircase leading upward, most likely the Guild Master’s office.

  Classic.

  To my right: two guards, Level 44 and Level 42. They stood beside a giant stone slab.

  Weird...?

  I ignored the big rock and reached for the desk.

  The receptionist was still some distance away, gathering files from a library that covered the entire wall behind her.

  A small bell sat on the counter, it's purpose was obvious. I rang it and waited patiently.

  She glanced toward me when the bell rang.

  For a brief moment her eyes widened and she sighed.

  “…Another cute, young one,” she muttered under her breath.

  Huh?

  After finishing whatever she was doing at the giant archive thingy, she planted her feet against the wall and pushed.

  The chair rolled in my direction.

  Fast, very fast.

  It shot across the floor like a runaway cart and slammed to a stop in front of the counter with a loud—

  THUMP!

  Suddenly we were face-to-face, like…

  nose-to-nose.

  Her smile was…

  …a little crazy.

  She wore the standard low-modern receptionist uniform — neat, professional, and classy.

  “Hello there, cutie!” she said brightly.

  “H-hi…” I stammered. “I’d like to join the Adventurers’ Guild, please.”