At the entrance of the Ever Summer Beach Branch Adventurers Guild, two figures stepped inside—one radiating casual confidence, the other dripping wet and visibly shaken.

The first was all smiles: shirt half-unbuttoned, sunglasses cocked on his head, sea breeze still clinging to his salt-kissed hair. Rydan looked every bit the laid-back local hero—except for the nervous glance he cast at the receptionist desk.

Trailing behind him was a girl who might’ve walked straight out of the ocean—though not gracefully. Her soaked black hair clung to her face in limp strands, and a towel wrapped tightly around her like armor. She moved stiffly, every step betraying her discomfort, as if the ground might suddenly become water again.

A veteran playboy and a trembling newbie.
One moved with the tide.
The other had nearly been swallowed by it.

Rydan gave a long sigh as he walked up to the counter and placed the completed quest form on the desk. “Jellyfish cleared. Got a little extra water involved, but all done.”

The receptionist Eluviel looked up, smiling at first—until she caught sight of Sandra, wrapped in a damp towel and glaring at the floor like it had personally betrayed her.

“What did you do to her this time, mister?” she asked, smile still on her face, but her tone sharp.

“Nothing! I just helped her out,” Rydan said defensively. “She dove into the water headfirst… and, well, turns out she doesn’t know how to swim.”

Eluviel blinked. Then stared. “She what?”

“I know, right?” he added, raising his hands. “Didn’t even hesitate. Just plop, like a stone.”

Eluviel’s smile flattened into a grimace as she looked at Sandra. “Not knowing how to swim is a pretty big risk if you're going to be an adventurer here. Especially here, of all places.”

Sandra raised her head slowly. Her hair still clung to her cheeks, and her golden sun-like eyes held a rare uncertainty. She was trembling—just a bit—but her voice was steady.

“I was just… surprised the water had salt.”

There was a pause.

Rydan coughed into his fist, trying to hold back a laugh. Around them, a few other adventurers exchanged amused glances, their chuckles quietly rippling through the group.

Eluviel closed her eyes for a long, silent moment, then sighed. “Sure. Maybe for now, pick quests that don’t involve diving into the ocean.”

Sandra nodded once.

She may have nearly drowned, but her pride wouldn’t let her back down. Not in front of all these strangers. Not when she’d just started.

The receptionist gave her a gentler look. “Welcome to the Ever Summer Guild, Sandra.”

Looking at the two of them, Rydan couldn’t help but smile. ‘You know what’s better than watching a girl? Watching two girls’, he thought jokingly—then suddenly remembered the reward. Sure, he’d done the whole quest alone, but it wasn’t really his.

He tossed a pouch toward Sandra. “Here. This is your reward. You earned it.”

She caught it—and held it there for a long, quiet moment. ‘You earned it?’ she thought. ‘Is he insulting me?’ Her eyes narrowed slightly as a sharp, annoyed look crossed her face.

“What did I do?” Rydan raised his hands defensively.

Without a word, Sandra wound up and threw the pouch right back at his face. Then, with her head held high, she turned and walked out of the guild—quiet, composed, and proud.

She wouldn’t allow herself to accept the money. Her pride wouldn’t let her.

“Seriously, what did I do?” Rydan asked Eluviel, only to be met with a quiet giggle.

***

The next day, the Ever Summer Beach Branch Adventurers Guild was already alive with the usual chatter, the scent of ocean salt, and the occasional clang of mismatched armor against flip-flops.

Near the quest board, a girl stood silently—her skin pale, not from lack of sun, but because the sun had never dared lay claim to her. She studied the quest board with a predator’s focus, her sun-gold eyes scanning each parchment as if weighing the worth of prey.

No diving. No boats. No water. Especially no salt.

She had learned her lesson.

So absorbed in her hunt, she didn’t notice the light footsteps behind her.

A puff of air blew against the back of her neck.

Reflex took over.

With a sharp spin… her arm whipped backward in a tight arc, the back of her hand slamming squarely into someone’s face. A satisfying smack echoed through the hall, followed by a dramatic grunt of pain.

Rydan stumbled back, clutching his face, his easygoing beach-bum charm drowned in sheer disbelief. “Oww—what was that for?!” he yelped, staggering back. “Are you a berserker or something?!”

Sandra turned to see who it was, her expression immediately dropping from “threat-assessing” to “oh, it’s just this guy.” Her eyes lost all interest as she stared at him like someone glancing at a broken seashell. She didn’t even answer. Just turned back to the board.

“Hey, don’t ignore me!” Rydan called from behind her, one cheek now visibly swelling.

She didn’t flinch. Her concentration was back on the board, as if the smack had never happened. She wouldn’t mess this up. Not today.

Eventually, her finger hovered over a small paper pinned at the bottom corner.

F-Rank Request: Clam Gathering.
Client: Coral Cove Eatery
Reward: Paid per basket

Perfect.

She plucked the slip from the board and headed straight to the counter without a word, leaving a grumbling Rydan behind nursing his pride and his cheek.

A few moments later, he slumped into a nearby chair with a sigh, pressing a half-melted ice pack to his face.

“Next time, maybe call her name first,” a lanky elf quipped from across the room.

“Better luck next time, bro!” a beastkin chuckled, clapping him on the back. “Girl’s got reflexes like a jungle cat!”

“Or maybe she just really doesn’t like you,” someone else chimed in, drawing another round of laughter.

Rydan gave a wounded groan but couldn’t hide the faint grin tugging at his lips. “Yeah, yeah. Real funny. Tactical retreat, okay?”

The room burst into more laughter. Friendly, loud, and just short of raucous—it was the sound of adventurers enjoying a rare morning with no disasters on the horizon.

And then the laughter died down like a snuffed flame when he walked in.

“Monkey Business,” someone muttered under their breath.

***

Tall and broad-shouldered, the man wore a tattered pirate hat, a long coat flaring at the edges, and a smirk that reeked of trouble. His left arm was a mechanical construct of bronze and steel, hissing faintly with pressure valves. A gleaming cutlass hung from his belt, while a pistol rested on his right hip.

Strix, the Weapon Master. A-rank adventurer. Dangerous. Charismatic. Unpredictable.

Behind him followed a stout, grizzled dwarf with a hammer slung lazily over his shoulder—Grun the Runesmith, a B-rank known for cracking skulls and enchanting gear in the same breath.

The guild’s mood shifted. Conversations halted. Mugs froze mid-air. Some adventurers lowered their heads, while others subtly stepped aside.

Strix’s gaze swept the room like a hawk hunting prey. It landed on Rydan.

“Yo! Finally used that pea-sized brain to join my crew?” he called out, voice booming with smug amusement.

Rydan let out a dry laugh. “Sorry, already in a party with her.” He casually pointed toward the counter, where Sandra was handing over a slip of parchment—completely unfazed by the shift in atmosphere.

Strix clicked his tongue and strode past Rydan without a glance, boots heavy against the wooden floor. “And that’s why I call you pea-brained,” he muttered.

He stepped between Sandra and Eluviel, cutting off the handoff with a loud thud as his mechanical arm dropped onto the counter, hissing faintly with pressure.

“This is how you handle it, kid. Watch and learn.”

Strix turned his full attention to Sandra, flashing a wolfish grin. “Hey, be my woman. I’ll pay you plenty.”

Eluviel flinched behind the counter, trying to defuse the tension with a nervous laugh. “She’s just new, so maybe… maybe be nice?”

Strix didn’t even glance at her. His eyes were fixed on Sandra, studying her face like it was a puzzle he intended to break.

Sandra shifted a step to the side, effortlessly ignoring him, and handed the slip to Eluviel as if brushing past a street performer.

A few low whistles and snickers came from the onlookers, some amused, others nervous. Even among adventurers, this was tension wrapped in gunpowder. Strix isn’t even angry—he’s amazed, licking his dry lips in anticipation.

Rydan stepped forward, fists clenched. “Back off.”

Strix tilted his head, a mischievous grin spreading across his face like a spark catching kindling. “And if I don’t?” he said, voice low and edged with challenge.

Rydan's fist flew forward—fast, instinctual, reckless.

But before it could land, something heavy crashed down between him and Strix with a clank of metal and the scrape of boots— Grun.

The stout dwarf had moved like a landslide—quiet, sudden, and unstoppable. One thick hand wrapped around Rydan’s wrist mid-punch, halting it with unshakable force.

“Sorry, kid,” Grun rumbled, his voice gravel wrapped in steel. “He’s still our party leader.”

Rydan gritted his teeth, straining against the dwarf’s grip, but it was like trying to wrestle a boulder.

‘Just what the hell is this guy made of?’

It wasn’t brute force holding him—it was something heavier, older. Like the ground itself had decided to hold him down. His pride flared, but even through the heat of it, a chill crept down his spine.

Before he could gather himself, a shadow leaned over him—tall. Rydan was considered tall by most standards, but this figure towered over even him.

With clear amusement on his face, Strix glanced at Rydan with a grin sharp enough to cut. “Haha! And that’s exactly why you’ll never reach the same stage as us A-ranks!”

Rydan’s jaw clenched, but Strix was already rolling.

“You’re too soft. Too delicate. Too… normal.”

He threw his head back and laughed, wild and unabashed.
“To be an A-rank, kid, you need to sacrifice some few screws to lose.” He tapped his temple.

After a brief pause, he went on, “Flash of Death? That killing machine wouldn’t even blink after a thousand deaths. Watermelon Head? Don’t even get me started. And then there’s yours truly—me. A walking disaster.”

Jabbing a thumb at his chest, the mechanical arm hissed as it shifted. “We don’t climb the ranks by playing it safe. We do it by scaring the gods and pissing off the sane.”

Then, for good measure, he spat at Rydan’s face.

The room went dead silent. No one moved. No one dared intervene.

Strix exhaled, satisfied. “I’ve had my fill.” He stretched, neck cracking.

With a mocking bow, he turned and walked off with Grun, their laughter trailing like cannon smoke.