'Way to be put on the spot.'
Eli stood there like the floor had suddenly forgotten how to support him.
Every muscle locked at once.
His palms were sweating so badly he could feel it soak into the cuffs of his glittery sweater. A thick, stubborn lump crawled up his throat, refusing to go away no matter how many times he swallowed.
Twenty-five S-Class hunters.
Guild leaders.
Vice-captains.
The founder of the Hunter Association himself.
All staring at him.
Not judging.
Not yet.
Just watching.
Waiting.
Each blink felt too loud. Each breath came out wrong—too fast, too shallow. Every instinct screamed at him to turn around and bolt for the exit like a coward.
But—
He wasn't being asked to do anything impossible.
All he had to do was report what happened in the SS-Class dungeon.
That was it.
Still—
'I can't do this.'
He was too awkward for this many people. Talking to a few hunters at a time was hard enough—but an entire room full of S-Class elites?
