Chapter 100: A Moment with Gwen
The guild hall was its usual organized chaos. The murmur of quest negotiations, the clink of armor, the scent of sweat, parchment, and ambition, it was a familiar ecosystem. My eyes went straight to the reception counter.
Gwen was there, a splash of crimson hair and sharp efficiency amidst the flow of adventurers. She was updating a ledger, her brow furrowed in concentration. I waited for a gap in the crowd and stepped up.
"Reporting in," I said, my voice cutting through the low din around the counter.
She glanced up, her green eyes scanning me with a practiced quickness. The professional mask was in place, but I saw the slight flicker in them recognition, then a flash of something harder. Annoyance.
"Kaizen," she said, her tone neutral. "Escort to Silveridge. You're… a few days late."
"Ran into some complications. Bandits. Weather. You know how it is." I kept it vague, sliding my guild card across the polished wood.
"I do," she said, picking up the card and turning to her records. Her movements were brisk. "Merchant Laron and his assistant are confirmed safe in the city. The client…" She paused, looking back at me. There was a question in her eyes. News of a Patron's death in a 'business dispute' would have reached the guild's ears, especially one connected to a guild contract. "…The business in Silveridge is concluded," she finished carefully, marking the quest as complete. She counted out the remaining fifteen gold from the guild's lockbox and pushed it, along with my card, back to me.
"Thanks," I said, pocketing both. The silence between us stretched, filled with everything we weren't saying.
"You know," Gwen said, leaning her elbows on the counter, her voice dropping so only I could hear. "A girl could start to think she's being avoided. First the drink you promised after the invasion. Then… other things. You have a real talent for being elsewhere when fun is scheduled."
There it was. The tension wasn't just professional. I sighed, running a hand through my still-damp hair. "I know. I'm… sorry, Gwen. It hasn't exactly been a quiet few weeks. Every time I think I've got a minute, the world decides to drop a house on me."
She studied my face, her expression softening from prickly to something more searching. She saw the remnants of fatigue, the new shadows behind my eyes that a bath couldn't wash away. "You look like you've been through a meat grinder. Again."
"Feels like it, too." She bit her lip,a small, uncharacteristically hesitant gesture. Then she glanced around, ensuring the senior clerk was occupied on the other end of the counter. "Storage room. Five minutes. Don't make me wait."
I nodded. Five minutes later, after a casual, circuitous route, I pushed open the door to the dusty, parchment-scented storage closet. She was already there, leaning against a shelf of rolled maps.
"You're a hard man to pin down, Kaizen," she said, but the edge was gone from her voice.
"I'm trying to be easier," I said, and meant it.
She closed the distance between us, and for a few stolen minutes, there was no System, no Silas Vane, no dead patrons or impossible missions. There was just the warm press of her lips, the scent of her hair, and the simple, human comfort of a connection that asked for nothing more than this moment. It was an apology, a promise, and a lifeline all at once.
When we finally pulled apart, breathless, she rested her forehead against mine. "Just… try to be around more, okay? A girl gets tired of waiting."
"I'll do my best," I whispered.
We slipped out separately. I felt lighter, the weight of the last week momentarily held at bay by a few minutes of normalcy. I was almost to the guild hall's main doors, a genuine, unforced smile touching my lips, when a familiar, haughty voice sliced through the air.
"If it isn't the gutter-rat adventurer. Back from slumming it with merchants, I see."
I turned. Standing there, blocking the path to the door like a pair of particularly well-dressed obstacles, were the twins. Neralia, with her perfect curls and a look of disdain so practiced it could curdle milk, and her brother Lashley, his hand resting on his sword hilt as if the very sight of me might require its use.
The lightness vanished, replaced by a familiar, weary irritation.
"Neralia. Lashley," I said, my voice flat. "You're blocking the scenic view of the door. Some of us have places to be that don't involve admiring our own reflections."
Lashley's lip curled. "Mind your tongue. You're still in a place of honor, not some back-alley tavern."
"Funny," I said, crossing my arms. "It smells the same. Ego and cheap polish."
Neralia sniffed. "We heard about your little escapade. Getting a Patron killed is a new low, even for your kind. You're a magnet for disaster, Kaizen. You bring it wherever you go."
"And you bring the conversation to a grinding halt wherever you go," I shot back, my patience evaporating. "Yet, here we all are. If you'll excuse me, I have to go be a magnet for disaster somewhere else. It's a busy schedule."
I moved to step around them. Lashley shifted, deliberately crowding my space. "You'd do well to show some respect,"he hissed.
I stopped, meeting his gaze directly. "Respect is earned. You two inherited yours. We're not the same. Now, get out of my way before I decide to earn a reputation for walking through pompous idiots."
For a second, it hung in the balance. Then Neralia placed a restraining hand on her brother's arm. "Let him pass, Lashley. He's not worth the scuff on your boots."
With one last, searing glare, Lashley stepped aside just enough for me to slip past. I didn't look back. The brief warmth from Gwen was gone, burned away by the cold disdain of the twins.
Stepping out into the late afternoon light, I took a deep breath. The guild hall was behind me. Now for the next step: find Laron, Briza, and Elara. We needed to talk. We had ten days to find a legend, and I had a sinking feeling we were going to need every resource, every connection, and every bit of luck we had left. And we were starting with none of them.