A single knock on the door disrupted the sleep of Noch, the red-haired Captain of the Third Flame-Well Brigade.It was 5 PM in the afternoon, and not once did his doors get knocked during that day.
He reeked of booze. Fidgeting as he tried to steady himself, he muttered, "Who is it?" while glancing toward his cabinet. In a rush, he grabbed a bottle of perfume and sprayed it over himself several times before the answer came.
"I am Sergeant Isolde, sir."
"Oh, it's you. Come on in," he said even more frantically, hiding the alcohol bottle underneath the table — but forgetting the empty glass beside him.
He took a deep breath as the door opened, closing his eyes to calm himself and collect his thoughts.
Noch didn't wait for her to approach. He planted both hands firmly on the table, his eyes narrowing to slits. "Has the medal been found?"
His upper body was rigid, hands pressed into the table in a commanding posture — yet beneath the desk, his knee twitched with a faint, uncontrollable shake that betrayed the anxiety in his chest.
"No, we have yet to find it. It has no—"
He slammed the table before she finished her sentence.
"You do know what that means, do you not?" he asked furiously.
"Yes, I do," she answered.
"Your investigation in Mr. Sheath's business was a dead end, wasn't it? He was innocent, as I had concurred before?"
"Yes, there was nothing there."
He lowered his gaze to the table, his face tilted downward and hidden from her view, and let out a small grin.
Then he looked up at her — the anxiousness in his eyes had vanished, replaced instead by disappointment.
Isolde caught the faint reflection of that grin in the empty glass on his desk — the same one he had forgotten to hide.
"You know what we have to do now, right?"
"On behalf of the brigade and our honor, he deserves an apology!"
"Yes, sir," she replied before leaving the room.
He turned around, his face now facing the portrait hanging behind him—the one of the general of the entire Knight regiment, nicknamed "The Blue Turtle."
For a moment, he just stared at it in silence. The smell of alcohol still lingered faintly in the air as he raised his hand and brushed back his disheveled red hair. His shoulders sank, the tension melting away from his body. Then, with a tired chuckle that sounded half like a sigh, he muttered, "I survived… thank goodness."
He stood there a while longer, his eyes fixed on the portrait — as if trying to convince himself that he truly had.
***
Isolde left the office and returned to her own quarters. She sat down at her desk, exhaling sharply through her nose."I've already apologized to that bastard Sheath," she muttered, resting her chin on her hand. "After it was revealed that the medal wasn't there… now I don't have to go again. Not to mention, he said he deserved an apology — which I did ahead of time."
Her tone softened as fatigue crept in."I should use this time to get some rest. I didn't have much sleep in the last two days…"
She leaned forward, laying her head on the desk, arms folded beneath her. The papers scattered across the surface brushed against her cheek as she closed her eyes — planning to rest only for a short while before returning to the mountain of paperwork that awaited her through the night.
Captain Noch, meanwhile, felt lighter than he had all week. Relief swept over him as he stepped out of his office, still without his knightly uniform.
"I've worked pretty damn late yesterday — and today as well," he muttered to himself. "Might as well go home. The merchant can't really do much about the lost medal anyway… it's his fault, after all."
He stretched once, then started walking toward the gate. His steps were uneven — slow, almost lazy — the stride of a man finally letting go of the weight he'd carried all day. The faint scent of alcohol followed him as his boots scraped across the cobblestone corridor. Every few steps, he rolled his shoulders, breathing deeply, as if each exhale loosened another knot of stress.
By the time he reached the courtyard, the setting sun had cast an orange glow over the barracks, and Noch's silhouette looked almost peaceful — the image of a man convincing himself that everything was finally under control.
Alvar, in the meantime, checked in at the city gates with the guards, showing his ID and letting them inspect the boars and eels he had caught before entering the city, pulling his cart behind him.His grandmother sure was kind, wasn't she?[YEAH, THE SWEETS SHE MADE WERE QUITE GOOD AS WELL]
The air around the market felt different today. Many stalls were closed, and the taverns nearby seemed unusually lively.Maybe everyone's having a good time, he thought. I might as well too, after I'm done with the guild.
He made his way to the butcher, who was located around the right corner of the guild building — a little below street level. Descending the short staircase, he pushed open the heavy wooden door and entered.
The butcher looked quite busy and was cleaving the head of a huge, slender lizard on the table.
"Whoa, what is that?!"
The creature's scales resembled dried mud, its eyes were a startling gold, and its teeth were an unnatural blue. The resulting stench was so potent, Alvar instinctively backed away, becoming deeply uncomfortable.
Inside, the butcher took a look at his catch. Alvar showed him everything — the eels inside the barrels and the boars stacked in the cart. After a quick inspection and weighing, the butcher scribbled out a small receipt listing the hunt and the total kilograms.
With the paper in hand, Alvar left the shop and headed straight toward the guild.
"I wonder how much the pay will be for this?""As long as it isn't less than what I spent per day, I'll be fine," he thought.
Pushing the door open, he continued, "Once I'm free from the knight's oversight, I'll be racking up so much money… maybe even buy a mansion. I wonder if I could get a flying mount… like a dragon?"
The guild's interior was more packed than usual, though the queue was almost empty. Adventurers were already seated, eating, or chatting.
At the counter, a familiar knight stood beside the old man who had caused trouble during his last party. I wonder what Knight Smith is doing with him… better not get involved.
Alvar approached the counter and was served by another receptionist.
The receptionist he gave the paper to was not the one with the emerald green eyes that had impressed him previously, but a new face he had just seen for the first time. The green-eyed receptionist, meanwhile, was occupied, processing the old adventurer's and smith's issue.
"It was a good haul," she remarked, documenting the results.
Alvar's attention was drawn to Knight Smith."Yes, 20 goblins and 5 wolves," Smith reported, piquing his interest.
He glanced at the table where the corpses — a wolf and a goblin — were being inspected. Same species as the ones I took out… interesting.
Before he could think further, the system popped up:[HEY]
What's wrong? he thought.[THE CORPSES THEY'RE INVESTIGATING — TRY TO GET A BETTER LOOK!]
Alvar frowned. What do you mean?[I WANT TO ANALYZE THEM MORE. WHAT YOU DON'T SEE, I DON'T EITHER, BUT I CAN REMEMBER DETAILS OF YOUR EXPERIENCES AT A MUCH HIGHER DEGREE.][GET CLOSER NOW]
Since he wasn't allowed to interfere with other people's hunts, he employed a classic exam trick: subtly peeking to the left while covering his face with his hands.
The system began analyzing the cuts on the corpses.
The receptionist documenting his quest noticed him glancing left, covering his face. Why is he looking that way? she wondered."Oh, I see," she whispered, misreading his action entirely.
Every man — and probably a lot of women as well — has experienced staring blankly at a random object while daydreaming, when in actuality you're thinking about something completely unrelated and it was a complete accident.
Just a few inches to the left of the table stood the hourglass-green-eyed goddess of the guild, a girl all the adventurers had a crush on.
The system was deeply analyzing the bodies and telling Alvar:[THE CUTS SEEM AMATEURISH BUT FROM A STRONG PERSON]
"I see," Alvar muttered, still deep in thought.
Despite her public confidence, the emerald goddess harbored subtle insecurities about her appearance, something her close friends knew about.
[THE POWER OF EACH STRIKE SEEMS TO INCREASE FROM CORPSE TO CORPSE. THE FRESHER THE CORPSES, THE BIGGER AND DEEPER THE CUT.]
"I see… this is bad,..... I can see some resemblance" Alvar replied quietly, analyzing the corpses.
The receptionist, carefully documenting his work, leaned closer."What do you see? What are you looking at?"
He did not listen to her but heard a sound.
[THE STRIKE ANGLES ARE CONSISTENT YET INDIVIDUALLY VARIED. THEY'VE BECOME SMOOTHER AND MORE PRECISE, BUT THE IMPROVEMENT IS MINOR COMPARED TO THE MASSIVE GAINS IN STRIKE POWER.]
Alvar muttered subconsciously, almost to himself, following the system's analysis:
"Smoother angles… I see."
The receptionist, a close friend of the goddess, felt her eyes widen.Her hands broke the writing quill before she snapped:
"What!!! What did you just say?!"
Alvar blinked, completely unaware of what was happening. He flinched and instinctively lifted his arms from the counter.
Just before even Knight Smith reacted to her shout—
"Hey there, how are you doing!"
A girl's voice spoke from behind him — it was the short-haired girl, Veronica.
"You know it's a crime to look at corpses of monsters hunted by other people and analyze them, right?" she said, placing her hand gently on his shoulder despite the height difference.
"Oh—" slipped from his lips. His eyes immediately darted to the angry receptionist, then to the table, and finally to the emerald goddess, noticing her body.
Shit, he thought, realizing exactly what he had just done.
Thanks to Veronica's intervention, the receptionist's anger subsided.
"Thank god," he whispered, taking his payment.
Veronica leaned close and whispered, "Well, I know what you were looking at, you perv. I lied to save you, remember that ok?"
"Oh shoot," he muttered under his breath, face filled with embarrassment, and left.