The Gates of Odelia City towered before me like a stone giant ready to devour the wallets of anyone brave—or stupid—enough to enter.
The city smelled like a strange mixture of freshly baked bread, horses, and… for some reason, the armpits of on-duty soldiers.
"Don't gawk, Pan Hero. Close your mouth—flies might start nesting in there," Elena scolded without slowing her elegant yet terrifyingly fast stride.
I blinked and hurried after her, hugging my black frying pan tightly.
"Miss Elena, does everyone here carry weapons that big?" I asked, pointing at her massive sword.
"This is Odelia, Rian. A city of adventurers," she replied calmly.
"If you don't carry a weapon here, you're considered free food—either for pickpockets or street succubi."
"Street succubi? Wow, that doesn't sound so ba—"
SMACK!
Elena smacked the back of my head with her sword's sheath.
"Don't think dirty thoughts. They'll drain your energy until you look like a dried raisin in under three minutes."
[Ding!]
[Warning: Hormone levels increased by 0.5%.]
[Suggestion: Remember what your face looks like in the mirror before hoping too much.]
"Damn it, System! Stop insulting me!" I screamed internally.
At the main gate, a guard wearing armor heavier than my life burdens stopped us.
"Identification," he said flatly.
Elena pulled out a silver badge engraved with wings and a sword.
The guard immediately snapped to attention, saluting so stiffly I feared his neck might break.
"Commander Elena! Welcome back! And… who is this suspicious individual behind you?"
He stared at me like I was a pile of trash that somehow learned to speak.
"He's my assistant. His name is Rian," Elena replied expressionlessly.
"He's… slightly unhinged, but he can beat slimes with kitchenware."
"What?! Slightly unhinged?!" I protested.
The guard glanced at my frying pan, then my face, then nodded in understanding.
"Ah, I see. One of those 'fake heroes' traumatized after failing the academy entrance exam. Very well. The tax is five bronze coins."
"Tax? What tax?" I asked.
"Breathing Tax for Unlicensed Newcomers," the guard answered casually.
"Even breathing is taxed?! This world is insanely capitalist!"
I rummaged through my pockets—only to find used chewing gum and dust.
I looked at Elena with pleading eyes.
"Miss Elena… can I borrow a hundred?"
She sighed—the kind of sigh born from pure despair—and tossed coins to the guard.
"Move. Before I change my mind and leave you to become a street sweeper."
Odelia City was bustling with life.
Horse-drawn carriages passed by, merchants shouted about potions that supposedly grew hair overnight, and in the center plaza stood a statue of a knight stabbing a dragon.
We stopped in front of a grand building with a wooden sign that read:
ADVENTURERS' GUILD: WHERE YOU DIE WITH HONOR (OR GET RICH).
"Listen carefully, Rian," Elena said seriously.
"I didn't bring you here out of kindness. I need manpower for an exploration mission to the Ancient Ruins tomorrow. If you obtain an Adventurer License today, you're coming with me. If not—feel free to survive by selling that frying pan."
"Relax, Miss Elena! In my old world, I was the king of RPG games! A license test like this is nothing!" I declared confidently.
[Ding!]
[Unfounded Confidence Detected.]
[New Quest Activated: "Pass the Test Without Shaming Human Dignity."]
[Reward: City Map and Soap (Because You Smell).]
[Penalty: Title "Eternal Loser" Permanently Locked.]
I entered the guild with firm steps.
Inside was loud and chaotic.
Muscular adventurers drank beer, mages adjusted their robes, and at the reception desk sat a beautiful girl—with cat ears.
A catgirl.
This really was a dream isekai.
I approached the counter.
"Miss, I'd like to register as a hero!"
The cat-eared receptionist scanned me from head to toe—then stopped at my frying pan.
She sighed, her ears drooping.
"The cook registration desk is in the next building, Sir."
"No! This is my weapon!"
I slammed the pan onto the counter.
CLANG!
The entire guild fell silent.
"Did you hear that?" whispered a bearded adventurer.
"Was that… a frying pan?" another asked. "Is he here to cook?"
Elena's face turned red—not from romantic embarrassment, but from the intense desire to drown me in the nearest beer barrel.
"I don't know him… I don't know him…" she muttered, covering her face.
"I want to take the license test!" I shouted, desperately clinging to my pride.
The receptionist scratched her ear nervously.
"V-very well… Sir Pan. Please stand before the Potential Measuring Crystal Ball. Place your hand on it, and we'll see if you possess mana or special abilities."
I walked toward the massive crystal ball in the corner.
This was it.
The moment my hidden power would awaken and make everyone bow before me.
I placed my right hand on the crystal and closed my eyes, focusing.
Awaken, Black Dragon!
Rise, power of darkness!
The crystal began to tremble.
A white light appeared.
"Look! He has talent!" someone shouted.
The light grew brighter—brilliant—then suddenly…
PUFF.
The crystal made a fart-like sound.
The light turned dull brown.
Floating text appeared above it:
[TALENT: DISH WASHING & LOW-LEVEL SURVIVAL.]
The guild exploded in laughter.
"Dish washing?! Hahahaha!"
"Hey kid! What's your rate for cleaning plates at our base?" someone yelled, tossing coins at me.
I stood frozen.
My dignity shattered into pieces finer than MSG.
At that moment—something flickered.
For a single second, the system interface in front of me turned deep red.
[Ding!]
[Glitch Detected…]
[Concealing True Statistics…]
[Forcing "Trash" Status for World Safety…]
I didn't see it.
But Elena did.
She narrowed her eyes, noticing a small crack forming at the bottom of the crystal ball—as if it had barely contained an overwhelming pressure from exploding.
"That's enough," Elena stepped forward.
Her icy aura instantly silenced the guild.
She grabbed my collar.
"He passes. He has 'Survival' talent. That's enough to be my porter."
"T-but Commander, his status is only—"
"Write him as passed," Elena interrupted coldly,
"or I'll report this building's sanitation to the city council."
"Y-yes! H-here is your temporary license, Sir Rian!"
I accepted the small wooden card with trembling hands.
"Thank you, Miss Elena. You saved me."
"Be quiet," she whispered sharply.
"You owe me a lot. Now let's go. I'm hungry—and you're going to cook something with that pan to prove you're not pure dead weight."
As we left, I glanced back.
The crystal ball had completely crumbled into dust.
[Corruption Meter: 0.05%]
[Note: Anger is the best seasoning—but don't let it burn.]
A chill ran down my spine.
Maybe I just need a jacket, I thought innocently—
unaware that something very dark had begun to stir within my soul.