As the jingling of small coins grew louder with each addition, so too did the frequency of people remembering my name.
These people included the vibrant ladies manning the guild’s reception desks and fellow adventurers with whom I shared odd jobs. Whatever the case, it’s a good thing that there were more people who greeted me with a raised hand as we passed by.
“Here’s your reward for today.”
“Thank you.”
On the tray extended over the counter by Lady Corally lay three large copper coins.
This was my reward for handling three nearby requests, amounting to a tidy seventy-five as. Unlike when I first arrived, I’ve since learned the ropes and the lay of the land, making my work more efficient and profitable.
“Ah, you’re quite diligent, aren’t you?”
“Am I?”
As I was signing the receipt for the reward that lay on the tray alongside the coins, Lady Corally idly tapped a wooden chit while making this comment.
Marked with six-digit numbers and symbols, this chit was proof of a completed request. Whenever a request is accepted, the guild pays the reward upfront—though it seems there’s also a deferred payment system that uses these chits. In return, the guild issues these tokens. Not just proof of acceptance, they demonstrate that a request has been successfully completed.
We go to the clients who commissioned the quest, carry out our tasks, and then present the proof of completion to the guild. Once the token is submitted, the guild deducts its service fee, which is twenty percent, and pays out the remainder.
It feels like being a temp worker, and it diminishes the adventurous spirit, but this method is rational, so I bear with it with a slightly sour expression. Without this system, disputes about payments and the fairness of rewards could arise, leading to trouble between clients and adventurers, so the guild’s involvement is necessary.
Indeed, without their intervention, the guild would lose its purpose as more than just a bulletin board. They provide management and mediation to ensure trust.
“Day in and day out, you rest once every three days and work diligently on the others. Plus, if there’s a cluster of nearby jobs, you take them all on efficiently. No shortcuts either; everything’s done cleanly.”
But isn’t that just normal practice? Many of the tasks are akin to errand-running, so grouping nearby requests together for efficiency is common practice, whether in a game or in real life.
After all, we can’t simply teleport to a location instantly. Considering daily earnings, efficiency is paramount.
“Moreover, so far, you haven’t failed any jobs.”
“There have been two instances where I didn’t receive a token.”
“That’s not considered a failure.”
It’s not as if I’ve executed everything perfectly. There were indeed two instances where I couldn’t get a token: once, during a delivery job, I was scolded for being too rough, and another time, I received complaints about being too slow during a wall repair job.
While I might have been compensated after submitting a report, if I hadn’t convinced them, it would be deemed as failure in a tabletop RPG.
Of course, clients who nitpick at work to try and save on fees exist. The guild monitors these cases closely, and if a token isn’t issued, the case can be reported for review. If they determine the work was done satisfactorily, payment will be given even without a token.
Although it’s not disclosed to us, just as we’re evaluated, clients are also given ratings. The system feels akin to banks from the Meiji Era, but its bank-like nature is somewhat interesting.
“Your reputation is good, and it seems you might advance rather quickly.”
“Really?”
“I can’t give an exact time, but I’d say you can look forward to it. You and your adorable partner both.”
This was heartening news.
“Advance” refers to progressing from the lowest rank and moving beyond the title of coal-black adventurers. The implication is shedding the label of a new recruit and achieving the cleaner, red rank.
If that’s the case, I must continue to improve.
After thanking Lady Corally, I left the reception desk. Having already handled three jobs today, it’s still early with plenty of daylight left, but I’ll head back for now.
Margit has already taken the luggage back to the inn, so I might grab a snack on the way. Even though I’ve matured, this body is still in its growth phase, and hunger always finds me.
Oh, manual labor is grueling. Back in my school days, when I was in a cultural club, I couldn’t understand why my sports club friends always carried snacks, consumed large bowls of beef bowls, and still ate dinner afterward. Now, I completely understand those guys who devoured giant instant noodles as “snacks.”
Ah, I miss the taste of those greasy, unhealthy oils.
No use dwelling on what I can’t have—there’s plenty I can enjoy, though. Perhaps I’ll go for some boiled sausage from the stall I’ve been frequenting lately—it’s delicious.
As I walked along, thinking leisurely, I found my path blocked at the plaza in front of the guild.
Three figures stood in front of me: one human, one werewolf, and one rat goblin. Their clothing seemed cobbled together from rags, and their unclean faces, streaked with grime, suggested they hadn’t visited a bathhouse in ages. They were a disheveled bunch.
They looked every bit the part of lower-tier adventurers.
“You, return the wallet.”
Before I could ask what was happening, a poorly pronounced imperial language phrase was hurled at me. The werewolf stood at the center of the group, likely the leader.
“Wallet? Truly, I have no recollection of such an item.”
“My associate claims you’ve targeted many of his comrades.”
What are they talking about? I tilted my head in confusion but then remembered the wallet returns. Just the other day, I surpassed thirty returned wallets. It seems my clean appearance invited more attempts. So, this is why those who came without wallets have been showing up—it all makes sense now.
It’s common practice to simply retaliate in these parts, where the reach of law enforcement doesn’t extend. In fact, self-help is far preferable to leaving oneself open to theft.
Besides, for someone to confront me after such an exchange—it’s a rather half-hearted move.
“So, once again, I must say, I have no memory of your wallets. Any evidence? I assure you, shaking me upside down will only produce my own possessions.”
That said, it’s always wise to use official channels when possible. I smiled brightly, maintaining a courtly manner, as if to say, “I’ve never done a single bad deed in my life.”
The werewolf wrinkled his nose—an expression characteristic of his species that indicated distaste.
“Shut up, kid. Don’t mess with us. Drifters’ Pact, it’s no good to disrespect.”
How very pedestrian and unoriginal. Also, it’s “na-meru,” not “na-maru.”
The Drifters’ Pact is one of those “certain groups” that Kevin warned me about. It’s a faction formed by transient adventurers who live outside the city walls in makeshift tents and shacks, notorious for their cut of earnings.
It’s easy to predict these drifters’ actions when they lack funds—there’s no need to speculate further.
I see. The petty thieves wandering the inside of the city walls might be part of this group. If so, they’re likely extorting even their own kind.
“Return the stolen gold by tomorrow. We demand one gold coin.”
Ha! Such bravado. Suppressing my dry laugh proved challenging.
One gold coin? Surely, they must be bluffing. Even if all the wallets I’ve retrieved were added together and doubled, the amount wouldn’t reach half a gold coin.
Still, just because they’re trying to act unlawfully doesn’t mean I should, especially with the possibility of advancement looming.
“This is the third and final time I say this—I know nothing of your associates’ wallets.”
It’d be far easier to simply knock them out or insult them, but doing so would cost me far more than it’s worth.
“Should you insist that someone stole your wallet, you’re free to lodge a complaint anytime. Fortunately, the guild is right there, and as far as I can see, there’s no sign that it’s closed.”
With a flourish, I gestured toward the guild, noting how the tension between us increased. They know they can’t follow through with a complaint.
Crime does not exist without evidence. Would anyone seriously believe a notorious thievery faction accusing a seemingly reputable newcomer?
Technically, the fact that I’ve been returning stolen wallets makes me complicit in crime too—but how do they intend to prove it?
So, I will continue to conduct myself entirely within legal bounds, avoiding any mention of illegality.
Come now, didn’t an avatar of one of the Evil Gods with an APP over eighteen famously say, “It’s not a crime if you don’t get caught”?
“Until then, I’ll be taking my leave. I’m hungry from a day’s work, and someone’s waiting for me.”
With that, I turned to leave, deliberately heading toward where a city guard stood.
From this encounter, I would gain neither honor nor experience.
“You’re underestimating us.”
“Your woman might not be safe.”
There are, however, lines that should never be crossed.
Unconsciously, my steps halted as my fingers instinctively reached for the fairy dagger hidden under my sleeve. Today, this was my sole armament, but if I’d had my “Sword of Desire,” I might have gripped its hilt instead.
The cheering roar of battle and the creak of familiar whispers resonated in my mind. Thirsty for action, my “Sword of Desire” cried out in hunger. Surely, there’s a far more suitable tool for this here.
I breathed deeply, calming myself—here, a brawl would not do. If these troublemakers are well-known, I don’t want their retaliation affecting my progress. Even though I had the urge to sever limbs, I thought better of the costs.
…Alright, I’ve regained my composure. Ideally, I’d like to smoke a cigarette and cool my head, but I must resist.
In this case, it’s unlikely to escalate beyond a minor skirmish. While an underling might be involved, it probably won’t bring the entire organization down on me. They wouldn’t dare report it anyway, not with their livelihood depending on their thievery.
How would they explain to their boss that they were played by an amateur? They’d likely get punished for their incompetence, so they wouldn’t dare mention my name until the matter is settled.
A cheap provocation, indeed. Very cheap.
“Well, I just noticed something, but I forgot to mention it.”
So, let me offer a cheap retaliation instead.
“Your shoelaces are tied strangely.”
Without waiting for a response, I hastily left the plaza. They attempted to follow, but the sound that followed was a trio of falls and groans.
The onlookers gathered around, probably perplexed by the sight.
It seemed the three of them had fallen in a heap, their shoelaces mysteriously tied together.
With an invisible hand, I’d undone the bootlaces and then reknotted them using intricate rope-work techniques, making them nearly impossible to untangle.
They should learn a lesson—once spit out, one cannot take it back. And some realms are best left untouched.
I know that Margit is no ordinary girl and wouldn’t be easily bested by such adversaries. Frankly, they wouldn’t last a moment against her.
However, this is not about what she can or cannot do. It’s about showing intent.
Perhaps this will lead to some complications. Giving in wasn’t an option, and even passive defense would have drawn attention.
There might’ve been a better way to handle it, but what is done is done.
I thought earlier that being recognized could be advantageous, but it can also bring unwanted attention.
Let me step aside and rest somewhere before heading back. I’ll grab a cup of tea and a smoke. It’s wise to clear my head before returning to the inn… with such uneasy interactions ahead.
