We sat in a corner booth. I had ordered everything on the menu that didn't sound poisonous. Sera was currently vibrating with anxiety, her eyes darting around the room.
"We should leave," she hissed. "I can eat moss. I'm used to moss."
"You are not eating moss. You are the Sword Saint. You require protein." I took a napkin and began cleaning my glasses aggressively. "Besides, we need to debrief. Our efficiency rating on that boss fight was abysmal. We need to discuss your tendency to aggro before the tank—which is me, apparently—is ready."
Before she could argue, a shadow fell over our table.
It wasn't a normal shadow. It was a golden, shimmering shadow that smelled of expensive cologne and ego.
"Well, well, well," said a voice that sounded like it had been auto-tuned. "If it isn't the Fallen Princess."
I looked up. Standing there was a man who looked like he had been manufactured in a factory that only produced anime protagonists. He had blonde hair that defied gravity, teeth that sparkled, and armor that was so polished I could see the reflection of my own exhausted face in his codpiece.
Floating above his head was his nameplate:
[Chad "The Hero" Thunder - Lvl 25]
[Class: Chosen One]
"Chad," Sera whispered. Her face went pale.
"Hey, babe," Chad said, leaning one hand on our table and flexing a bicep that looked purely cosmetic. "I heard you got kicked out of the Iron Hawks. And the Crimson Blades. And the… wow, the list is long, isn't it?"
He laughed. The group of sycophants standing behind him laughed on cue. They were a perfectly balanced party: a healer in white robes, a mage with a big hat, and a rogue flipping a dagger. Standard corporate structure. Boring.
"What do you want, Thunder?" Sera gripped the table edge.
"Just doing my charity work," Chad said, flashing a smile that probably cost more than my entire apartment back on Earth. "I'm putting together a B-Team. You know, for the easy quests. Fetching herbs, killing slimes. I figured you might need a home. Since, you know…" He gestured vaguely at her dirty, dented armor. "You're clearly hitting rock bottom."
He didn't even look at me. To him, I was furniture.
"I… I cleared Floor Five," Sera stammered, her voice trembling.
"With who? This NPC?" Chad finally glanced at me. He looked at my suit, my frying pan resting on the bench, and sneered. "What is he? Your accountant?"
"Operations Manager," I said, cutting in. I didn't stand up. I just took a sip of the lukewarm water the waitress had dropped off. "And you are violating my personal space. Please retreat to the designated social distance of three feet."
Chad blinked. His smile twitched. "Cute. Listen, Sera. Ditch the waiter. Join my harem—I mean, party. I'll even buy you a new sword. One that isn't… whatever that piece of scrap is."
He pointed at Cataclysm, which was leaning against the wall.
Sera looked at Chad. Then she looked at the warm food being carried toward other tables. She looked at her own hands, stained with mud.
I saw the calculation happening in her head. Chad was awful, but Chad was safe. Chad had resources. Chad wouldn't make her fight goblins with a frying pan.
"I…" Sera started.
The tension in the air was thick enough to cut with a spoon. This was the pivot point. The moment the client decides to renew the contract or go with the competitor.
I put my glass down.
"Mr. Thunder," I said, my voice projecting with the practiced authority of a man who has run board meetings during a fire alarm. "Before Miss Vane considers your offer, I have a few questions regarding your benefits package."
Chad frowned. "What?"
"Let's talk logistics." I stood up. I wasn't tall, but I had posture. "You mentioned a 'B-Team'. What is the loot distribution split? Is it the standard 50/50, or does the 'Chosen One' take a 90% overhead fee?"
"I take what I deserve," Chad scoffed. "I'm the Hero."
"Inefficient," I noted. "And what is your turnover rate? I checked the Guild logs on the way in. You've gone through four DPS dealers in the last month. That suggests a toxic work environment and poor aggro management."
The crowd in the hall had gone quiet again. People love a train wreck.
"Watch your mouth, NPC," Chad growled. His hand drifted to his golden sword.
"And finally," I continued, stepping between him and Sera. "You insulted her equipment. That's a management failure. A good leader doesn't blame the tools; he upgrades them."
"Upgrade?" Chad laughed. "Look at her! She's wearing trash!"
"Is she?"
I turned to Sera. "Miss Vane. Stand up."
Sera hesitated, then stood. She looked confused.
"I processed the loot from the Rotting King while we walked here," I said calmly. "I didn't just sell it. I reallocated it."
I raised my hand.
[Skill: Domestic God – Instant Press]
[Sub-Skill: Inventory Swap]
I didn't just clean her clothes. I swapped the textures.
I had harvested the Rotting King's "Royal Robes"—high-level silk with high defense—and the "Bone Resin" from his skeleton. Using my inventory as a mixing bowl, I had crafted an overlay.
I snapped my fingers.
A ripple of blue light washed over Sera.
The mud vanished. The duct tape dissolved. The dented steel of her armor didn't just pop back into shape; it darkened. It took on the deep, iridescent sheen of the King's bones. The tattered edges of her skirt reformed into sleek, high-durability silk that shimmered violet.
Even her hair cleaned itself, settling into a perfect, shimmering curtain of silver.
She didn't look like a homeless knight anymore. She looked like a Valkyrie dressed for a gala.
[Item Upgraded: Vane's Regalia]
[Buff Applied: +50 Charisma, +20 Defense]
The entire guild hall gasped. Even the elf receptionist stood up.
"You were saying?" I asked Chad, adjusting my glasses again. "Something about scrap?"
Chad took a step back. His mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. He looked at Sera, who was staring at her own hands in disbelief. Then he looked at me, realizing for the first time that I wasn't an NPC.
"This… this is a trick," Chad sputtered. "Illusion magic!"
"It's logistics," I said coldly. "Now, unless you have a counter-offer that includes dental, stock options, and a manager who actually knows how to utilize an S-Rank damage dealer, I suggest you take your 'harem' and circle back to the tutorial zone."
Chad turned red. He looked around the room. People were snickering. The "Hero" was losing a debate to a guy in a suit.
"Fine!" Chad snarled. "Keep the crazy psycho! You deserve each other! She'll just blow you up like she did the last party!"
He spun on his heel, his cape whipping around, and stormed out. His entourage scrambled to follow, looking significantly less impressive than they had a minute ago.