Finn turned his head toward the voice.
It was the receptionist.
She looked… miserable. Not angry—just tired. And maybe a little guilty.
Behind him, the crowd kept cheering Ardin like he just invented charity. Meanwhile, Finn and his band of misfits stood awkwardly in front of the counter—right where the chaos began.
The receptionist sighed, rubbing her temples. "Look… I'm sorry for selling you guys short."
"No shit!" Finn barked. "He stole my money and—" He paused, really looked at her. Saw the dark circles, the way her eyes drooped like she'd aged a decade in ten minutes.
"…And, well," he mumbled. "Still. Not cool."
She exhaled, staring down at her reflection in her cold cup of coffee. "If I'd given you the reward and credit, I would've lost my job. And I… I can't afford that."
Finn sighed. "It's fine. I'm sure we can—"
"Like hell it's fine!" Majestria snapped. "I am a literal goddess, hello?! I need shelter, and I refuse to sleep outside with the common fungus!"
SMACK.