The last grains of sand swirled down around her ankles, catching the faint gleam of gold as the storm vanished without a trace. The air, once dry and blistering hot, now stung her nose with something sharp and foul. She didn’t know the word for it, but she already hated it.

The wind carried the cries of strange birds, and before her stretched something massive, blue, and endlessly wrong.

A never-ending body of water.

She stared in silence.

“…What in the scorched dunes is that?” she muttered.

Wrapped tightly from head to toe in a long white cloak, with even her neck and ears buried beneath a snug scarf, her form was concealed entirely—save for a narrow slit at eye level. Her golden eyes—sharp and sun-colored—were visible there, though even they were mostly hidden beneath tangled black bangs. All that marked her presence were the bare footprints pressed carefully into the foreign sand.

She stepped forward onto the wet sand—and recoiled as her toes sank into the grains. They were wrong. Damp. Slippery. Filthy. Not the warm kiss of sunbaked dunes but something clinging, shifting, and cold.

It wasn’t sand. Not really. It was broken.

This place is wrong. Wet. No dunes. No caves. No peace.

She growled under her breath, hand clenched at her side.

‘Nearly…’

The Jackal.

It had appeared like a mirage: an entity of living shadow, its body carved with pulsing gold runes. She had sensed it prowling the ruins—something old, powerful, and foolish enough to cross her path. She had chased it down, jaws open, hunger roaring through every instinct she possessed.

But just as she lunged, reality twisted.

The sands collapsed into light.

And she landed here.

Her stomach growled low and beastly.

Snarling, she kicked a rock into the surf and stormed down the shoreline. Dozens of humans lounged on the beach, wearing bafflingly little—just scraps of brightly colored cloth stretched over damp, glistening skin. Some stared at her openly. One child pointed.

She scowled behind her scarf.

‘Why are they half-naked? Did I mess up the transformation?’

A quick check—arms, legs, hands, teeth. All correct.

‘Why won’t they stop staring?’

Her irritation simmered, but then a sudden rumble from her stomach stole her attention.

She caught a scent—rich, sizzling, smoky. Meat.

Her feet turned before her mind did, carrying her down a boardwalk toward a smoking grill stand. She stopped just short, inhaling deeply—the sharp, smoky scent curling around her senses. The man behind the stand barely looked up as she lingered there, still sniffing the air.

“Grilled squid,” he said with a grin. “You buying?”

She fished into her pouch and dropped several silver coins onto the counter—ancient, worn smooth, marked with old desert glyphs.

He raised an eyebrow.

“Uh… that’s not local currency.”

She tilted her head slightly, one brow lifting beneath her bangs.

The vendor waited.

Nothing.

After a long pause, he sighed.

“Sure… but I can’t buy squid with a history lesson.”

She frowned, annoyance creeping in.

‘Figures—it’s not that easy to just take what I want... the normal way that is.’

An unseen, sinister smile formed beneath her scarf. She clenched her fist, ready to assert herself when suddenly she felt a sharp, unsettling stare. Her reflex made her glance around—only to find a man standing nearby, wearing nothing but a brief-type swimsuit and a watermelon worn over his head.

'It doesn’t even have holes... no way he can be staring,' she thought, judging too quickly—only to feel the weight of his gaze pressing on her.

The vendor, clearly uncomfortable with the silence, quickly broke it.

“There’s an Adventurers Guild just down the beach,” he said. “They don’t turn anyone away. You look like you could handle yourself.”

The girl’s attention snapped back to the present.

“Adventurers Guild? What’s that?” she asked, her voice muffled by the scarf.

He began explaining—something about quests, monsters, a ranking system, even paperwork—but she clearly wasn’t listening. Even the strange figure with the watermelon for a head—whose gaze had momentarily disturbed her—slipped from her thoughts as her attention fixated on the curling smoke and sizzling meat.

“…and they pay decent,” the vendor added, almost as an afterthought.

That part caught her attention.

She turned her head slightly.

‘They’ll feed me?’

Now he had her full focus.

She narrowed her eyes behind her bangs.

“Where is this adventurer something you’re talking about?”

“Just a short walk from here.”

Without another word, she turned and walked in the direction he pointed, her steps soft and deliberate as the warm sand shifted beneath her feet.

***

The building ahead looked more like a tavern than a guild hall—bright wooden beams, wide open doors, and a giant seashell nailed above the entrance. Painted across the front in bold coral-pink letters was:

Ever Summer Beach Branch Adventurers Guild

Cheerful. Colorful. Entirely too loud.

A girl in a white cloak stood just outside the entrance, still beneath the fabric, her expression unreadable. Her hair fell forward in uneven bangs, hiding her eyes. Her bare feet shifted—not to feel the sand, but out of habit, searching for a comfort that wasn’t there.

Laughter, shouting, clinking mugs—typical adventurer noise drifted out the open doors. But the smell was all wrong. Sweet, smoky, and sharp in a way that made her want to turn around. She sighed through her nose.

Let’s get this over with.

Inside, it was worse.

It was a guild—crowded, chaotic, and overflowing with the sort of energy that made her want to crawl into the nearest dune and wait for it all to burn down.

But it was also… wrong.

Not the layout—tables, quest boards, barkeep in the corner, check. Not the adventurers—there were plenty of the loud, overconfident types she remembered from past towns.

No, it was the clothes. Or the lack of them.

One man leaned on a trident, wearing only floral shorts and sandals. A woman with a bow had a bikini top and a quiver strapped to her bare back. Even the local wizard wore flip-flops, chatting with a knight whose armor consisted of a single shining pauldron and a beach towel slung like a cape.

She froze.

‘What is wrong with this place.’

She took a single step inside.
And every head turned toward her. Again.

Eyes crawled over her sand-dusted scarf, the heavy white cloak that veiled most of her body. Her face was almost entirely obscured—her mouth hidden by fabric, her eyes shadowed by long bangs. And still, they stared.

Some expressions were curious. Some amused. One guy nudged another and whispered something with a laugh.

‘Why won’t they stop staring?’ she thought, a flicker of irritation rising. ‘I’m covered from head to toe. What more do they want?’

She wanted to rampage right then and there, but a quick scan of the room told her otherwise. There were definitely some strong contenders here—and what made it worse was their numbers. ‘Can I win?’ she wondered, tension coiling tighter in her chest.

An energetic call broke the tension.

“Hey! You new here?”

She turned fully this time. Behind the front desk, a woman waved her over.

She was graceful, with fair skin and bright emerald eyes. Her short, wavy pale blonde hair framed her face in loose curls that bounced lightly as she tilted her head. A delicate shell hair clip tucked above her left ear revealed the pointed tip of her ear clearly. She wore a modest two-piece swimsuit with a pin on her chest that read ‘Receptionist.’ A quill and wooden slate rested in her hands. “You here to become an adventurer?” she asked, warm and cheerful.

The cloaked girl hesitated. She was still hungry. Still had no money.

Slowly, she walked to the counter.

“Yes,” she said, voice like shifting gravel.

“Great! Let’s get you signed up.” The receptionist smiled wider. “Name?”

A pause.
She didn’t use her real name in towns. Not when she took on a human shape. But she did have one—an old throwaway from a desert outpost. Something easy to remember.

“…Sandra.”

“Nice to meet you, Sandra. I’m Eluviel.” The quill scratched across the slate. “Alright, what kind of abilities are we working with?”

Sandra frowned. Her powers didn’t translate easily into human terms. Hunting. Swallowing. Moving through earth like wind through dunes.

“Sand,” she said finally. “And transformation, I guess.”

Eluviel didn’t blink. “Gotcha. Sounds like an earth-type druid to me. I’ll write you down as Druid with Earth Affinity. Very versatile.”

Sandra didn’t know what that meant. She didn’t care.

She just wanted food.

“Any preferred weapon?” Eluviel continued.

“None.”

More scribbling.

“You’ll start at F-Rank,” Eluviel explained. “That’s beginner level. You can take any quests on the board over there with F or E on the label—”

Sandra raised a hand. “Do I get money if I do them?”

That seemed more important than letters.

“Of course,” Eluviel said with a grin. “You complete a quest, come back here, and we pay you. Standard guild practice.”

Sandra nodded. That was all she needed to hear.

But Eluviel wasn’t done. Her gaze swept over Sandra’s scarf, and cloak again. She leaned in slightly, voice dropping.

“By the way... you might want to consider changing outfits.”

Sandra’s eyes narrowed, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. ‘What is she talking about? Does she want me to also go naked?’

Eluviel smiled gently, sensing her hesitation. She gestured lightly with her quill. “It’s going to be hard doing beach quests dressed like that.”

She grinned.

“Also, it might reduce the number of people staring at you.”

Sandra froze, her gaze flicking back toward the adventurers. They quickly looked away, pretending they hadn’t been watching.

She had half a mind to turn them all into sand statues.

Eluviel continued, her tone warm and reassuring. “We have enchanted swimwear in the back room—loaner sets. If you pick one, the cost just gets deducted from your quest rewards over time. No pressure.”

Sandra’s jaw tightened. Clothes didn’t matter to her. But this… this wasn’t about comfort. It wasn’t even about fitting in.

It was about being looked at. Measured. Exposed.

She didn’t like that feeling.

Her voice dropped to a hiss.

“…Fine.”

Eluviel gestured cheerfully to the side door marked Changing Room.

“Take your time.”

Sandra turned without another word and walked toward it, every barefoot step heavy with sand and growing irritation.