Whispers and low bets rippled through the guild hall as the changing room door creaked open after a few long minutes.

The chatter softened, eyes flickering toward the narrow doorway where the cloaked figure had disappeared.

“How dark do you think she’s gonna be? I’m saying medium tan.”

“Nah, desert sun’s harsh. She’s probably deep bronze.”

“Maybe lighter—like sun-kissed, you know?”

Eyes fixed eagerly on the door as it slowly swung ajar, anticipation buzzing in the air.

Out stepped the girl, shedding the last of her desert shadows. She wore a simple two-piece swimsuit—white with gold trim along the edges—and a semi-transparent white cloth tied loosely around her waist that fluttered softly with every movement. The gold rings around her wrists and ankles now gleamed clearly in the light, catching the eye. Her skin was strikingly white, as if untouched by the blazing sun, immune to its fierce heat.

A low murmur rippled through the crowd. “I thought she’d be darker, you know, from all that sun.” someone whispered. Another voice chuckled, “Bet her skin never burns, not like us.” Eyes narrowed in curiosity and disbelief, the adventurers leaned in, watching her closely.

Then, a gentle sea breeze stirred her long ponytail, making it sway lightly, while her long bangs danced around her face, teasing loose strands just enough to reveal the sharp, sun-like glow of her golden eyes—bright and piercing, impossible to ignore. She stood there for a moment, unmoving, her expression unreadable beneath the cloak of silence she always wore inside.

She hated the attention—but hated the silence worse.

‘Why won’t they stop staring?’ she thought, irritation bubbling beneath the surface.

People were still watching—but this time, it wasn’t just awkward curiosity. There was awe. Appreciation. A few jaws might’ve even dropped. She was, whether she liked it or not, strikingly beautiful.

Not that it helped her mood.

She was about to move when the guild hall door burst open with a clang.

“Yo!”

The room’s noisy din shifted immediately. An adventurer strolled in like he owned the place. His open floral shirt billowed slightly in the sea breeze, board shorts rode low on his hips, sunglasses perched on his head, and a surfboard was tucked under one arm.

“Rydan!” someone called, a burly man with a booming laugh raising his mug. “Back from the waves, huh?”

“Welcome back, man!” chimed a tall, lean figure with quick, darting eyes, waving from across the room.

A few others called out too—a red-haired woman from the Coral Bloom party giving a cheerful shout, and a couple of unknown faces joining in the welcome.

Sandra exhaled quietly as the weight of their eyes lifted from her.

She took her chance, slipping past the crowd toward the quest board.

The wooden board was cluttered with parchment scraps—quests of all ranks pinned up with seashell tacks and sun-bleached corners. She scanned quickly, looking for anything marked F or E.

Something quick. Something quiet.

She grabbed one with a jellyfish symbol and tucked it under her arm.

No one was looking.

Perfect.

Her bare feet brushed the warm wooden floor as she moved, almost free—

But Rydan, in the middle of retelling a wild tale about a sea serpent and three barrels of rum, turned just as she passed.

Their eyes met—briefly.

Just a second. Maybe less.

Then an overly eager adventurer clapped him on the back, demanding another story. By the time Rydan looked again, she was already gone.

He blinked, scanning the field for traces of the girl, then involuntarily muttered,

“…She’s hot.”

***

Rydan stood tall at the heart of the Ever Summer Beach Branch, surrounded by fellow adventurers like the tide circling a familiar anchor.

His open floral shirt flapped lazily in the breeze, a surfboard slung under one arm, sunglasses pushed up over windswept ocean-blue hair. His skin carried the sun’s touch—neither pale nor weathered, but the healthy tan of someone who lived by the sea and liked it that way.

He looked more like a beachside lay about than one of the guild’s higher-ranked fighters. And yet, no one dared underestimate him.

He was a Rider, a class built on forging bonds with creatures—mounts earned through fair fight, sealed by mutual respect, and sharing the same elemental affinity as the user. Rydan had one: a powerful water beast he’d bested long ago. Though “beast” wasn’t exactly the right word.

When out at sea, he rarely called on that creature. Instead, he rode something else entirely—the waves, the currents, the ocean itself.

He didn’t ride monsters.
He rode water.
And more than that—he rode magic.

The surfboard wasn’t some class-assigned gear. It was his own thing—part sport, part weapon, part attitude. He’d carved it himself, refined it in countless quests, and made it iconic in Ever Summer.

When mages hurled spells at him, he didn’t block. He danced with them.

He’d summon a surge, ride the ripple of a fireball or arc of a wind blade, pivot midair, and launch himself toward the caster with a grin.
Then came the finisher: a full-body board smash, timed to the crest of a conjured wave. Brutal. Flashy. A little unhinged. And wildly effective.

That was Rydan—B-rank Rider, spell-surfer, and coastal chaos in motion.

At his waist, a small net swayed with every step, carrying a demon core—fresh from his latest quest against a sea monster that had tried to turn the tide of the southern reef. Bad idea.

The guild buzzed with life, adventurers lounging in their swimwear, swapping stories of quests and near-death escapes over tropical drinks.

Rydan scanned the room, his gaze settling on the familiar figure behind the front desk. With a confident grin, he weaved through the crowd and approached her.

“Still looking beautiful today, Eluviel,” he said, setting the demon core on the counter like it was a gift for the elf rather than the guild.

Eluviel, the ever-composed elven receptionist, didn't even blink. “Thanks, Rydan. But you can tone down the flattery. You just got back from a quest, didn’t you?”

He chuckled, brushing imaginary sand off his shoulder. “What can I say? Compliments flow like currents.”

She rolled her eyes, inspecting the demon core. It pulsed faintly—clean work. As expected of someone who didn’t even come back with a scratch.

“By the way,” he said casually, leaning on the counter, “who was that girl earlier? The one with the pale skin that almost seemed to glow, wearing that sleek, pure white swimsuit? New around here?”

Eluviel didn’t look up. “Eying your next prey already? I thought you were hitting on me today.”

“What? Me? I’m just curious,” he replied smoothly—like someone who had dodged this kind of accusation a hundred times and landed on his feet every time.

She finally looked at him, one brow arched. “Her name’s Sandra. Just registered. Try not to scare her off, alright? She looked like she barely figured out what an adventurer was.”

Rydan smiled, taking the silver pouch she handed him. “Nonsense. I only help those in need.”

“Whatever you say, playboy.” Her work-smile returned, as sharp as any blade.

Rydan tucked the pouch into his belt and turned to look toward the quest board.

‘Sandra, huh?’

Skin so fair it seemed untouched by the sun’s fierce blaze. The glimpse of her eyes, burning with a quiet fire—enough mystery in that brief moment to make him wonder what kind of storm she was hiding.

‘Interesting.’

***

Sandra stared at the quest slip in her hand.

A big, bold E-rank was stamped in the corner—not that it meant much to her. Ranks, levels, titles... it all blurred into the same nonsense. The paper mentioned something about a jellyfish infestation near the rocky part of the beach. Apparently, they’d been scaring off tourists and stinging swimmers unlucky enough to wander into their swarm.

She tilted her head.

‘Subjugation? That meant killing, right?’

It wasn’t the most dignified job, but she was hungry—and the guild made it clear: complete quests, get paid.

With a grumble from her stomach confirming the mission's urgency, she left the Ever Summer Guild Hall behind and wandered toward the coast. The beach stretched endlessly, shimmering with heat and dotted by colorfully dressed—or rather, barely dressed—locals and adventurers lounging around like sun-baked sea lions.

Sandra sighed. "Yup, I'm lost." She definitely needed directions.

After that short, overheated complaint, Sandra scanned the crowd.

Spotting a group of shirtless men who looked more sober than the others, she approached and held out the quest paper.

“Do you know where this is?” she asked, voice flat but polite enough.

They didn’t even glance at the paper in her hand. Instead, their eyes roamed slowly from her face, to the way her long black ponytail shifted with each subtle movement. Their gazes traced the smooth curve of her neck and shoulders, sliding lower—lingering on the pale, porcelain skin exposed by her swimsuit, taking in every inch as if committing her to memory. Their smirks widened, dumb and hungry.

“New girl, huh? First quest?”

“You really shouldn’t go alone. I can show you the way.”

“Or we could go together. There’s safety in numbers.”

Sandra blinked, feeling her face burn under their eyes. Then she squinted, eyes sharp despite the flush.

Their words were harmless, but their stare made her feel naked. Not dangerous… just hated being stared at. A different kind of predator. The kind that made her regret asking in the first place.

‘Maybe I should just eat them’, she thought, half amused.

She opened her mouth to respond—but before she could, a shadow cast itself between them.

A surfboard scraped across the sand, coming to a graceful stop. A man stepped off with casual ease, hair like ocean spray, sun-kissed skin, and an unbuttoned floral shirt fluttering in the breeze. He dug a foot beneath the board, flicked it upward in a smooth arc, then caught it with one arm like a weapon too laid-back to care.

Rydan.

“She’s actually my acquaintance,” he said with a grin that could tan skin. “Mind if you give us some space?”

Sandra rolled her eyes inwardly. ‘Great, another head to bite off.’

She immediately frowned. “I don’t know him.”

The air shifted.

The smiles on the men’s faces soured as they turned to Rydan. Knuckles cracked. Brows furrowed. Four against one.

“You cutting in line, pretty boy?”

“You think just cause you wax your board, you can flex on us?”

Rydan glanced around at the suddenly shrinking space between him and a potential brawl. His grip on the surfboard tightened slightly. He could handle himself—he was B-rank, after all—but even he had limits. His class Rider wasn’t even meant for brawls, especially with civilians. If he hurt them too badly, it meant paperwork… possibly suspension. Worst of all, Eluviel would scold him again.

A bead of sweat formed on his temple.

“Now, now,” he said with both hands raised in mock peace. “Let’s not do anything rash. I’m a peace-loving guy, you see. Ride the wave — not the fists, right?”

His smile strained as the four men took one step closer.