Wearing only comfortable clothes all the time makes it unbearable when you occasionally have to put on formal attire.
“Ah, this will do, I suppose.”
I used the magic of Foresight to look down at myself from a bird’s-eye view and muttered. Originally a spell intended for deploying the “Invisible Hand” multiple times for wide-area combat, its versatility makes it incredibly handy.
Since I had to visit the Adventurers’ Guild in the morning, I thought I’d set out right away… but not without changing clothes first.
This is because, despite how bothersome it may be, walking around in armor with a sword dangling at your side does not automatically convey a proper appearance.
When one has business with the organization one belongs to, it is necessary to dress appropriately. Just as writing a letter and dropping in without an appointment can be considered rude, this is an issue of basic courtesy and protocol.
This much never changes anywhere. At the very least, you wouldn’t go meet a superior in your company without even wearing a jacket or tightening a tie, would you? Even if they greet you with a smile, your impression will undoubtedly be smeared with an unkind stroke on the evaluation form.
Moreover, there’s a degree of meaning that measures up to the trouble it entails. Wearing formal attire signals a declaration of respect to the other party, but it also silently intimidates—”since I’ve made a proper appearance, don’t take this lightly.”
Hence, we each possess a set of clothing meant for meeting distinguished individuals.
However, these aren’t particularly high-end ones; they’re simply the nicest-looking items we’ve managed to pick up at a thrift store after turning our meager pockets inside out. They pale in comparison to the simple yet finely tailored outfits I used to wear as Lady Agrippina’s servant.
After all, tailoring clothes from scratch is incredibly expensive. You’d want to prioritize your funds towards gear instead—it’s almost tempting to say so.
Unfortunately, this is unavoidable. Would someone who has spent all their earnings on equipment and expendables, while fully preparing for adventures without indulging in womanizing, loosen their purse strings for an outfit they rarely use?
The main point is that as long as it’s decent and matches the occasion, it should suffice. Besides, if rootless adventurers wear overly formal attire, it just ends up looking arrogant.
Though slightly worn, a neatly laundered doublet and trousers are perfectly adequate.
Honestly, it was a relief to be freed from the constraints of formal wear after leaving the Imperial Capital. If fancy ceremonial outfits were prepared for us, there would be no end to the trouble. Not wearing the clothes offered by the higher-ups and leaving them untouched would surely be considered disrespectful, resulting in nothing but trouble.
In any case, everything is prepared. There are no flaws in the attire, the hair is properly tied up, and the sachet bought with a bit of indulgence in my pocket emits a sweet fruity scent, leaving a good impression.
The only thing left is to drape the coat over myself and conceal a fairy knife inside the sleeve for self-defense before leaving the room. As I did, Siegfried emerged from the opposite room, almost simultaneously.
Our outfits were similar—both of us sporting dark doublets and slim-fit trousers, along with a smart semi-coat. There was nothing particularly objectionable about it…
“Huh, what’s up?”
“It’s nothing, really. You look sharp, Siegfried.”
“Are you mocking me, bastard?”
I didn’t intend it as a taunt, but honestly, he didn’t look quite right.
It’s hard to describe, but it’s like… Imagine a bald, lively young boy forced to wear a knee-length suit for his entrance ceremony. That’s the impression I’m getting here.
It’s clear Kaya must have tried to manage Siegfried’s hair with some hair oil, but it still bounces around uncontrollably. The clothes aren’t damaged or dirty, but they just don’t suit him. It’s as if the ensemble doesn’t quite gel, or something is slightly off.
Though it’s not entirely terrible, it feels like one or two elements are missing. That’s the vibe his outfit gives off.
As expected, warrior attire suits him the most. The last time he fulfilled his wish and acquired a new brigandine armor, he appeared like a formidable warrior, which even the members of the Sword Friends Association couldn’t help but admire without any teasing—truly, it suited him.
Though it’s painful to ask him to endure it, there’s no helping it as the leader of the group participating with the Sword Friends faction.
Walking down the corridor with my grumpy combat buddy who’s muttering complaints all along, an unexpected cry reached our ears.
No, not a cry but more of a whine—like the high-pitched squeak of a kitten calling for its mother.
“Hmm?” Around the corner of the corridor, an incredibly faint presence suddenly appeared.
With an oddly endearing embroidered apron, a gentle-looking young man who effectively doubles as the heir to the inn—”Saint” appeared before us.
“Good morning, you two. You’re dressed up so early… is there another trouble?”
The seasoned adventurer, who not only taught us the basics but also how to deal with higher-ups as we climbed the ranks, shows no signs of weakening in stature.
Except, the adorable fur ball cradled in his arms tells of the passage of time.
The child of Saint and the innkeeper, with luxurious black fur, a peach-colored nose that beckons to be touched, and perfectly shaped isosceles triangular ears, is a true one-in-a-million offspring of the couple.
“Good morning. It’s just some errand?”
“Yeah, it’s not a big deal.”
“Though you two tend to say it’s not a big deal, and it usually turns out to be quite serious. Still, be careful,” said the Saint. While consoling a baby crying in his arms whose character sheet is filled with a bright future, he gave us a slight grin. He seemed focused on looking after Safira, their firstborn named “Pure” in the central continent’s language as she was born simultaneously with the awakening of the God of Fertility.
It’s only natural. After so long of adventuring without having children, the couple’s long-awaited child must be incredibly precious indeed. They dote on her as if she could fit in their eyes without causing pain.
It wasn’t easy to bring Safira into the world amidst so much celebration. Fidelio, in his concern for his heavily pregnant wife, completely ceased adventuring. And how many times did I have to endure the complaints-filled drinking of the disgruntled Hansel?
Given the situation where the innkeeper couldn’t easily move around, we ourselves had to temporarily take up duties and busily run things on the front. The baby’s arrival now is a wonderful memory. But if I ever plan on children, I know there must be a lot to prepare for.
…Speaking of which, when my brother was my age, Herman was already around.
Indeed, adventure truly is a frivolous profession. With no proper wife, no home setup, and merely living day by day—such adventurers often face criticism. There’s no helping it.
“Then, we shall be going. Safira, don’t bother your father too much now.”
“Yeah, don’t cry so much it becomes a full-time job!”
As Safira, who is still small and resembles a real kitten, is busy crying, I tried to greet her by stroking the bridge of her nose or gently scratching beneath her jaw, but she seemed too busy crying to smile back. Hmm, what could be troubling her, I wonder?
“Ah, it seems I’m no good at this. Even grandfather doesn’t help, so perhaps mothers truly are great beings after all…”
With a lullaby-like hymn, “Saint” disappeared down the corridor, likely taking her to the courtyard for a stroll in the wind.
“…Children, huh?”
Seemingly lost in thought, Siegfried murmured something profound. Looking at him, I noticed a more rugged look of reflection and melancholy in his face.
“Is there something you’re expecting?”
“Of course not, you idiot. First of all, Kaya and I… we’re not like that.”
“Heh? Are you so set in your bashful denial?”
When I laughed and teased him, surprisingly, he didn’t shout back but simply gave me a serious look.
“I… It’s none of your business, let’s go.”
Swallowing some bitter words along with it, Siegfried turned away. He must have his own thoughts regarding their current relationship, which we onlookers simply cannot understand.
Above all, he left the Manor aspiring to be a hero.
With no epic poems written about him yet and convinced that his childhood friend contributes more to their faction, it’s natural he contemplates his self-worth deeply. After all, he hasn’t visited his hometown despite the appropriate interval—indicating how heavily he weighs himself.
Deep down, he doesn’t acknowledge himself. He believes himself to be immature, that he “hasn’t become anyone yet.”
I want to tell him that he’s wrong. I too had a period where I was truly young, and I have acted as a younger adventurer drawing from those experiences, so I understand him.
Yet, there’s also a reason others’ words cannot be accepted, no matter how much of a fighting companion they were; especially someone they fought shoulder to shoulder with. They know it’s like that during youth—that piercing, sour, and aching feeling of “What do you know about me?”
Even as you understand the other person just as little.
It’s rather embarrassing. Every time I see my younger self in him, I refrain from speaking pretentiously—though seeing him carry that sour, heavy burden gives much to ponder on.
Still, Siegfried, you could stand to take pride in yourself a bit more.
It’s not like in one of those convenient romantic comedies where Kaya falls for you by some random chance. How much determination must’ve gone into the daughter of a powerful witch doctor leaving her Manor to help you?
She devotes her blood and sweat to cherish every one of your small actions and subtle shifts in emotion.
It’s not just Kaya. As much as they like to tease following my lead, the members of the Sword Friendship Association acknowledge you. First of all, the strong-willed adventurers who left their homelands to be included in epics merely because they were comrades-in-arms wouldn’t call you “elder brother” or “senior” if they didn’t feel it sincerely.
They too became adventurers with some awareness of their skills, and those who even challenged me in the past wouldn’t bow their heads out of respect just for being part of my old faction. That makes no sense.
In fierce battles, you don’t falter. Even when receiving arrows to the shoulder, you encourage allies, hold the battle line, and hold onto victory. In a clash with rogue knights despite expanding the scar across your cheek, you never knelt in pain, but with an iron will, you wrested the victory. So please, straighten your chest and hold your pride, comrade…
Just before lunchtime, when everyone was beginning to unwind, the Adventurers’ Guild was experiencing a peaceful period after a busy spell.
Spring can be quite hectic, with traveling merchants seeking escort services and the arrival of many new adventurers. Additionally, inexperienced rookies bring a plethora of complaints.
There are legitimate complaints from clients when the work isn’t done properly, ignorant individuals upset at being scammed, and weaklings crying over being dragged into clan disputes.
There’s never any shortage of work, but by the end of spring, the merchant caravans leave the city, rookies find their new hideouts, and many start to grasp the ropes of their work, leading to a period of calm. Summer gets busy as well, but the staff genuinely appreciates this calm period between the busy seasons.
And then they arrived.
The door didn’t open boisterously but opened politely and elegantly, yet numerous clerks murmured “Ah…” upon seeing the sight, sensing something unusual.
Bathed in the bright spring sunshine, the golden hair shimmered like the crown itself. Behind him stood the unfortunate Siegfried with a sour expression.
The sight wasn’t unfamiliar. As adventurers, they regularly visited the Guild, and their faces were well-known.
However, their formal attire sent a message loud and clear—it wasn’t a casual visit. To everyone’s unease, Siegfried maintained his usual, amiable smile.
Just that alone was enough to freeze the atmosphere in the Guild amongst staff and adventurers alike. Adding to the tension was the presence of a grandiose and imposing wizard following behind them. At this point, it seemed almost simpler and more comprehensible if they had donned armor and marched in for a battle.
The duty clerk sitting at the reception sincerely hoped they wouldn’t come to her station for service. The seasoned staff, working tirelessly during the busy periods, were now temporarily replaced by rookies or substitute personnel. Unluckily, Ewa, one of the skilled clerks who often deals with golden-haired visitors, was on her lunch break, thus absent.
Several clever adventurers already bid golden hair a polite hello and quickly left the Guild.
They clearly remembered how frightening “golden hair” could get when he got enraged over being dragged into dirty work. This was a memory recounted amongst the employees—the air itself felt like it could cut the skin, and the intense atmosphere of that battlefield lingered in everyone’s minds.
The experienced staff who managed the Guild’s back office, usually dealing with calculators, approached golden hair. Although he hadn’t released his killing aura yet, the clerk noticed something unsettling as she barely kept her smile composed.
His eyes weren’t laughing.
The pressure in his gentle smile seemed to warn, “if you play around with me, I’ll cut you down.” Yet, his elegant hand movements concealed any trace of menace as he fished out a letter from his robes.
“Apologies for the trouble during your busy period. Could you kindly deliver this to the Guild Leader? It’s not urgent. I understand he’s quite busy, but I would greatly appreciate a response at your convenience.”
Ordinarily, she would simply take the letter, place it into the Guild Leader’s mailbox, and the job would be done. Whether the Guild Leader chose to read it or respond was entirely up to him, and it wasn’t the clerk’s place to interfere. Even if the Guild Leader were mocked as a boss who runs a den of rogues, he still held considerable power and status.
However, it doesn’t work that way. If such a task was all it took, a simple deposit box would suffice. There’s a reason why receptionists are stationed at the desk.
The clerk managed to maintain her composed smile despite the strain and squeezed out her response,
“I’ll take care of it right away, please wait in the lounge…”
【Tips】 Properly dressing according to one’s status is indeed important as a matter of courtesy when visiting. On the other hand, there’s also a technique where someone deliberately dresses inappropriately to provoke the host.
However, failing in this method can lead to the widespread reputation of being unruly. Therefore, it is an advanced technique and shouldn’t be carelessly imitated.
The busy season for the Adventurers’ Guild falls at the onset of spring and autumn. Summer is busy too, but compared to those times it’s relatively calmer, while winter leaves plenty of spare time. Hence, the experienced staff work concentratedly during the busy seasons and take lump-sum vacations during the quieter times.
Think of the tension felt when your usually easygoing boss with a loose tie, casual gray suit, and unbuttoned shirt suddenly tightens a Nicole designer tie on a white shirt and dons a dark double-breasted suit, dyeing his newly visible white hair. Essentially, that’s the vibe we’re talking about.
