Misha Flott leaned her cheek into her palm, watching the twitchy adventurer across the counter count out his pitiful collection of chipped magic stones. His fingers trembled — whether from nerves or withdrawal, she didn't care enough to tell.
"That's all?" she asked flatly, already knowing the answer.
The wild-eyed man nodded, eyes darting between her and the pouch of valis she'd yet to hand over. "That's everything, lady. You're cheating me! These are worth at least twice that!"
Misha sighed through her nose, taking her sweet time writing on the form. "As I said," she drawled, voice smooth as a cat stretching in the sun, "magic stones are valued based on purity and size. The ones you brought are Grade E, which means each stone is worth roughly—" she glanced at the chart beside her "-70 valis each. You have sixty-eight. Do the math."
"I don't need to do the math!" the man snapped, slamming his hand against the counter. "You think I don't know when I'm being robbed, huh?"
Misha didn't even blink. The sudden rise in volume barely made her ears twitch.
"—I'll complain to the Guild Master! You'll be sorry when—"
She simply turned, slid the pouch of coins across the counter, and walked away mid-sentence. His rant followed her until another clerk called security.
Her expression didn't change once. Internally, though, she wanted to throw the ledger through a window.
'Gods, I hate this shift.'
It wasn't the constant adventurer turnover that bothered her — that was all dungeon business. No, it was the boredom. The endless parade of loud idiots and burned-out addicts trading stones for just enough valis to crawl back into the Dungeon or the bottle.
Her eyes flicked across the room. Eina was on the other side, politely smiling at yet another reckless rookie. Of course she was. Eina always got the talkative ones. Misha would've joined her, but Eina got snippy when people interrupted her little "responsibility lectures."
'She'll calm down eventually,' Misha thought with a mental shrug. 'Maybe.'
She stretched, her back cracking softly. The sun filtering through the front windows told her she still had a few hours left of work — and she still needed to buy groceries. Don't forget again, she reminded herself. The last time she'd put it off, she'd ended up eating stale bread for dinner. Twice.
When her supervisor waved her back toward the counters, she groaned silently. Still, instead of returning to the chaos of the Magic Stone Exchange, she veered toward the quieter Registration Desk. Fewer screams, less smell.
It turned out to be a good decision.
In the next hour, only three people came by to register. That gave her time to finally crack open the worn paperback tucked under her ledger — a romance novel she'd been pretending not to enjoy. For once, no one bothered her.
She lost track of time.
---
"Hello there, sorry to bother you."
The friendly voice broke her immersion like a rock through glass. She blinked, eyes dragging reluctantly up from the page to the figure standing in front of her desk.
And— oh.
Black hair. Golden-yellow eyes that shimmered faintly in the light — oddly reminiscent of the Sword Princess. His physique was lean but athletic, and he stood shirtless, of all things, barefoot and carrying an air of calm that didn't quite fit the usual Orario vagrants.
'Great. Another exhibitionist.'
Her brow arched, but she schooled her face into her professional smile. The kind that said, I'm getting paid for this, so please be quick.
"Welcome to the Guild," she said, setting her book aside and straightening her posture. "How can I help you today?"
The man met her gaze evenly. His tone was polite but not flirty. That alone earned him points.
"I'd like to become an adventurer," he said. "I also need help finding a Familia to join, and maybe some starting equipment if the Guild provides loans."
Misha exhaled through her nose, barely restraining an eye-roll. Ah, a total newbie.
Without a word, she crouched slightly, opened the drawer beneath her desk, and pulled out a form along with a quill and inkpot.
"Do you know how to read and write?" she asked, half-expecting hesitation.
"Sure," he replied casually.
"Then fill this up and come back to me when you're done," she instructed, sliding the paper toward him. "Once I have your information, I'll bring you a list of Familias currently accepting members. Don't lie — the gods always find out eventually, and getting caught means being blacklisted from Guild services." She gave him a faint, practiced smile. "When you're done, we'll also handle your loan paperwork for basic equipment, and I'll give you a quick orientation on the first two Dungeon floors."
He didn't interrupt once. That was… new.
"Thank you very much, miss," he said, returning her smile. He took the quill with his left hand and then, unexpectedly, extended his right. "My name's Alex, by the way. Alex Silver."
Misha blinked, slightly caught off-guard, then shook his hand briefly. Firm grip, warm palm — annoyingly confident for a guy without a shirt.
"Misha Flott," she said. "I hope you…" She bit back the phrase don't die horribly and instead finished dryly, "…finish writing that quickly."
He grinned. She almost did too.
Almost.