Sandra’s arm reached for Arwan—and for some reason, he didn’t move. Was it pride, the kind that made nobles believe they were untouchable? Or was it fear, the kind that froze you before danger?

Whatever the reason, her hand closed tightly around his arm as strands of sand began to rise, spiraling into the air.

“Release me, peasant,” Arwan barked, his voice still laced with anger—only to meet something far hotter.

Sandra’s eyes, burning like the desert sun, pierced through him. His rage faltered.

He panicked inwardly but masked it with pride.

He knew that look—cold, unblinking, the gaze of a noble staring down a servant.

But why was she the one looking at him like that?

He broke eye contact, snapping his head to the side as if to escape her gaze—and coincidentally saw them still lazing around.

“What are you fools doing?!” Arwan shouted in a sharp, commanding voice.
His followers flinched, shaken from their stupor, and began to move as if finally remembering they were supposed to act.
Arwan smirked, satisfied—until the one they forgot began to move.

With a low rush of sound, Rydan slid into the scene on his surfboard, carving through the sand like a wave before coming to a clean stop between them.

He said nothing.
But his eyes spoke volumes.

Arwan’s followers froze again, hesitation gripping them.
Arwan grit his teeth, seething. “Useless,” he muttered under his breath, cursing their incompetence.

Then she screamed, “Please stop!”

The maid clung to Sandra’s leg, still on the ground, forcing a small, shaky smile. “There’s no need to fight the nobility for me. It’s fine.” She didn’t want Sandra to get in trouble—standing up to someone like Arwan could only end badly.

Sandra turned to the maid at once, as if Arwan’s presence meant nothing at all.
‘You dare look away from me?’ he wanted to shout.
But another part of him… was relieved.

Seeing the maid's determined eyes, Sandra eased, then let go.
If the one who had been wronged said it was fine, then there was nothing more to be done.
She crouched down, picked up the tray, and began gathering the scattered meat.
The maid smiled and immediately joined her.

Arwan, finally freed, regained his composure and kicked dirt at them before rushing off, his minions scrambling after him. He had only wanted to assert his superiority—not provoke her further.
Rydan tensed, ready to give chase, but seeing Sandra quietly picking through meat with the maid, utterly unbothered, made him pause. There was no point.

A brief silence settled over the group as the moment eased.

Feeling the weight lift, Marianne approached Rydan. “That was unnecessary,” she said, cheeks faintly flushed. “But… thanks.”

“Anytime,” Rydan replied with a wink. “Always ready to help a beautiful girl in distress.”

Seeing Sandra safe and having made a new friend, Rydan cast her one last proud glance—an unspoken acknowledgment of her strength. Then he turned away and slipped back into his growing crowd of admirers, as if the whole scene had been a stage crafted just for him.

Marianne sighed and wandered off, shaking her head. It was exhausting just watching him.

She made her way toward Sandra and knelt beside her, joining in to help gather the fallen meat.

“My… my lady?! Please leave this to us!” the maid exclaimed in a panic, seeing Marianne dirty her hands.

But Marianne simply smiled and shook her head. “That was very brave of you two. Thank you.”

“No need to thank us, my lady. We’re just doing our job,” the maid replied with a bright smile.

“I don’t need your thanks,” Sandra said flatly, eyes still locked on the scattered skewers.
“Just bring me more meat.”
Some of the skewers still glistened with sauce; others clung to dirt and gravel. Her fingers hovered over one, thoughtful.

She wasn’t exactly the type to fuss over cleanliness. Food was food.

Maybe…

Her eyes narrowed slightly, weighing it.

As if reading her thoughts, the maid flailed slightly. “I-I’ll get you a fresh plate! Please wait just a bit longer!” she cried before scurrying off.

Sandra gave a casual shrug.

Marianne giggled softly, watching the maid rush off in a flurry of flustered footsteps. For a moment, things felt lighter.

But as her gaze drifted back toward the stage, a familiar warmth tugged at her.

Clair. Still smiling. Still radiant. She waved cheerfully—eyes bright and clear, as if she'd seen everything... and decided none of it could ruin her night.

***

At the back of a modest house not far from the party, Arwan slammed his fist into a sturdy coconut tree, the sharp crack echoing through the quiet night.

“Find everything you can on that idiot,” he barked.

One of his followers flinched, thumbing nervously through a worn dossier—its pages yellowed from use, its contents unmistakably modeled after Ever Summer Guild records.
Not stolen, but an illegal copy. Unauthorized.
He looked up with shaky hands. “Rydan… Rank B… party with an idiot?”

Arwan’s eyes snapped open wide. “Are you joking with me?!” He grabbed the man’s tie and yanked him close, voice low and fierce.

“No, my lord. That’s what it says here—the party name is ‘With an Idiot,’” the follower stammered, eyes wide with nervousness.

Arwan’s gaze sharpened as he studied the worn dossier in the man’s trembling hands. ‘Is this mistake the follower’s, or the fault of whoever forged this copy?’ he wondered silently, a flicker of suspicion rising.

He released the man abruptly, stepping back and pacing in frustration. “Then start looking for all members of that ‘party.’ I want names, ranks—everything. And make sure this copy isn’t feeding us lies.”

A tense silence filled the cramped room as the follower flipped back through the pages with trembling fingers, his breath shallow. The rustle of parchment was the only sound, each second stretching longer than the last.

Finally, the follower looked up, voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve found them. Members of the party are... Rydan, Rank B—even the girl from earlier is here—Sandra, Rank F.”

At the mention that ‘it was the girl from earlier’, the name Sandra made Arwan freeze.

A strange chill crept over him—something about that name tugged at a memory he didn’t like.

He snatched the paper from the follower’s hands.

His eyes scanned it—and stopped on the attached image.

That face.
His breath caught. ‘Her.’

A flicker of fear rose in his chest—until his gaze dropped lower, to the bold, unmistakable mark beneath her name.
Rank F.
The fear cracked. A grin split across his face.

“Rank F?” he echoed, his laugh laced with cruel relief. “Why didn’t you tell me that sooner?”

He tossed the papers back at the follower. “I would’ve hit her harder!”

Then he paused.

Arwan’s brow furrowed deeply, eyes narrowing as he processed the names. He leaned in, voice sharp with suspicion. “And Marianne? Is she listed anywhere?”

The follower swallowed hard, shaking his head. “No mention of her at all. Just the two of them.”

For a moment, Arwan’s gaze hardened into a cold stare, the silence thickening like a gathering storm. Then, a bitter laugh escaped him—low, sharp, and filled with grudge. “You cunning bitch…” he muttered. “So that’s how it is.”

***

The glow from the lanterns and bonfires around the beach flickered and waned, one by one, as the night deepened. The party, once lively and brimming with laughter, was now quietly winding down under the blanket of stars and the distant sound of waves brushing the shore.

Marianne had succeeded in lifting Clair’s spirits, her warm presence a steady anchor through the evening. Rydan’s voice had carried tall tales of daring feats and narrow escapes, drawing a circle of admiring listeners that seemed to grow with each story. And Sandra—well, Sandra had done what she did best, quietly devouring plate after plate of grilled meat, unfazed by the revelry around her.

“See you all again soon!” Rydan called out with a broad grin, waving to his gathered fans. His confident stride brought him back beside Sandra, who still balanced a hefty plate in one hand, the other casually tucked in her pocket.

From the edge of the gathering, Marianne raised her voice, projecting through the night air. “I’ll send the payment to the guild tomorrow morning—and I’ll add a bonus!”

At the word “bonus,” Sandra finally looked up from her feast. Her chewing slowed for a brief moment as her brain translated the word into “more food.” She blinked once, then glanced back, giving a small, almost imperceptible wave in response. One of the young maids—the same one who had stopped her from devouring all the meat earlier—smiled and waved back, a touch of warmth in the gesture. The crowd dispersed slowly, their laughter and chatter fading into the calm rhythm of the sea.

But not everyone was ready to call it a night.

In the shadows beyond the reach of the last flickering torches, a small group stood watching—silent, unreadable. Their eyes followed the departing adventurers, calculating and cold.

***

Author's Note:
Sorry if this chapter wasn't the big climax you might've expected. As a small apology—and because I really appreciate you reading—I’ll be releasing another chapter later today. Hope you enjoy! 💫