2,430 Words
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The morning air in the Pantheon was usually crisp, filled with the industrious scent of old parchment and the faint, metallic tang of armor. But for Eina Tulle, the atmosphere had turned suffocating.
"Haaa..."
She let out a heavy, soul-weary sigh that seemed to rattle her very bones. As a Half-Elf receptionist for the Guild, Eina was no stranger to the wandering eyes of adventurers—some were admiring, others were merely curious—but the temperature of those gazes had shifted. They weren't looking at her as an advisor anymore. They were looking at her like a tragedy in progress, or worse, a scandalous secret.
Even more unsettling were the men—hardened warriors who had faced down Minotaurs without blinking—who now looked at her with eyes brimming with genuine, tearful frustration. It was as if she had personally robbed them of a dream they didn't know they had.
"So that's the situation, Misha," Eina muttered, leaning her forehead against the cool mahogany of the counter. "What is it? Is my hair messed up? Is there a rumor that I'm retiring?"
"Ah... well..." Misha Flott, her pink-haired colleague and resident gossip-sponge, shifted uncomfortably, avoiding Eina's piercing emerald gaze. "Maybe it's better if you just don't worry about it! You know what the gods say—there are some things in this world that are better left in the shadows of the Dungeon!"
"Misha." Eina's voice dropped an octave, a tone usually reserved for Bell when he tried to sneak into a floor way above his Level. "That look. That tone. You know exactly what's happening, don't you?"
Misha winced, looking around to ensure no adventurers were eavesdropping before leaning in so close that Eina could smell the sweet tea on her breath.
"Okay, look. There's a rumor... well, more than a rumor. There's a publication being circulated in the Entertainment District," Misha whispered, her eyes dancing with a mix of pity and suppressed mischief. "It's a story about your 'little brother'—Bell Cranel—and his... intimate encounters with various women in Orario. And Eina... you're the leading lady in the latest volume."
"...What? WHAAAAAAAAT!?"
The scream tore through the Guild lobby, echoing off the high ceilings and silencing the chatter of a dozen parties. Eina felt the heat rush to her face, a localized sunburst of pure embarrassment. She immediately dove behind her stack of paperwork, her pointed ears twitching in a frantic, rhythmic pulse of shame.
Me? An adult book? With Bell!? The thought was a physical assault on her sanity. He's a child! Well, not a child, but he's... he's Bell! He's pure! Her mind raced through every interaction they'd had over the last few months. Wait... is that why the guys were crying? Because they think I've already 'claimed' the most promising rookie in the city? She clutched her head, her fingers tangling in her brown hair.
Misha reached over, patting Eina's trembling shoulder with a sympathetic, yet suspiciously firm, hand.
"Look on the bright side, Eina. From what I heard, the art is top-tier. There's this one scene where you take him into the private study room—you know, the one with the thick curtains?—and you tell him it's time for a 'practical exam' and then—"
"MISHA, CEASE!"
Eina's face was now a shade of red that would have put a Flame Rock to shame. She could see it all too clearly—the quiet room, the stacks of monster biology books, and the way Bell looked at her with those trusting, ruby eyes. To have those moments twisted into something... carnal... was unthinkable.
"I'm just saying," Misha continued, undeterred by the threat of elven wrath. "It could be worse. Imagine if it was some greasy, Level 1 thug. Bell is actually quite the catch. He's got that puppy-dog charm, his features are symmetrical, he's polite, and he's clearly going places. If you actually think about it, he's a pretty solid choice for—"
"He is my student! I am his advisor!" Eina hissed, though her heart was hammering against her ribs with a rhythm that felt suspiciously like a panic attack. "And now there's a manual on how I supposedly... defile him circulating through the city! How can I even look him in the eye?"
The conversation was mercifully (or perhaps tragically) interrupted by a roar from the entrance. Dormul and Luvis—two adventurers whose obsession with Eina had previously required divine intervention to de-escalate—burst through the doors with the frantic energy of men fleeing a floor boss.
"Eina-chan!!"
"Miss Eina!!"
They skidded to a halt in front of her desk, their breathing ragged. Without a word of greeting, Dormul reached into his leather vest and slammed a thin, illicit-looking volume onto the counter.
"I-I need to know! Is the 'Special Individual Lesson' detailed on page twelve a matter of historical fact!?"
"You brainless Ogre!" Luvis barked, though he was staring at the book with equal intensity. "How dare you present such filth to her! Even if the anatomy is surprisingly accurate!"
Eina's eyes drifted to the cover. It was high-quality ink. It depicted Bell, looking utterly overwhelmed and flushed, while a version of herself with a predatory, seductive smile leaned over him, her uniform unbuttoned just enough to be scandalous.
The world slowed down. Her elven heritage—the grace and speed of a lineage born in the great forests—surged. Before the two adventurers could even blink, Eina's hand blurred. The book vanished from the counter, tucked securely under her arm before any other onlookers could catch a glimpse.
"T-This is... being confiscated," she managed, her voice trembling.
"Wait, I wasn't finished with the—!"
Ignoring their cries, Eina retreated to the breakroom. Her curiosity, a traitorous and hungry thing, overcame her sense of propriety. She opened the book.
The first few pages were deceptively sweet—just her and Bell studying. But the moment the 'characters' entered the private room, the dialogue shifted. The paper-Eina began to lead the boy on with a masterclass in verbal manipulation, slowly stripping away his defenses—and his armor—while whispering, "Don't worry, Bell-kun. This is just another part of your education... a lesson in how to please a woman."
"Hyun—"
A small, strangled noise escaped Eina's throat. Her elven sensibilities, built on a foundation of dignity and restraint, shattered like glass. The sheer, unadulterated graphicness of the illustrations—the way they captured her supposed 'experience'—was too much. Her knees buckled, and for the first time in her professional career, Eina Tulle fainted dead away.
—————
When she came to, the Guild was bathed in the orange hues of twilight. The bustling crowds had thinned, replaced by the weary shuffle of adventurers returning from the deep floors.
Misha was sitting nearby, casually flipping through the confiscated book. She looked up, a playful, knowing smirk etched onto her face.
"Oh, good, you're awake. Rose-senpai had Dormul and Luvis dragged out by the guards. Apparently, they were trying to perform a 'ritual of purification' on your desk."
Eina groaned, pushing herself up. "That book... please tell me you burned it."
"Burn it? Eina, this is art," Misha teased, holding the book just out of reach. "I always thought you were a bit of a prude, but after reading this... wow. I didn't realize you liked them so young and innocent. It's always the quiet ones, isn't it? Period."
"I... I don't... it's not...!" Eina's vocabulary had been reduced to stutters.
"Anyway, here!" Misha shoved the book into Eina's lap. "Rose-senpai said you're clearly unfit for duty today. Go home. Sleep it off. And maybe... try not to dream about page twenty-four."
"Misha!!"
Eina scrambled to her feet, hiding the book beneath her cloak like it was a cursed artifact. she bolted for the exit, not stopping until she was behind the locked door of her apartment.
She sat on her bed, the silence of the room amplifying the thudding of her heart. She pulled the book out one last time, intending to destroy it. Her eyes fell on a speech bubble:
『 "Hey, Bell... do you like women with big chests?" 』
"I WOULD NEVER SAY THAT! MY CHARACTER DESIGN IS BUILT ON INTELLECT AND GUIDANCE!"
She threw the book at her pillow. It landed with a soft thud.
Silence.
Five minutes passed. Eina stared at the cover. Then, with a hand that shook like a leaf in a gale, she reached out. She touched the corner of the page, pulled back, then touched it again. Curiosity was a monster more dangerous than anything in the 50th floor.
She read. She read every single page.
"No way... his... that is physically impossible..."
"Fuuu... if I actually did that, my guild license would be revoked in seconds..."
"That is not how you use a desk! The structural integrity—!"
"Ababababa—"
By the time she reached the final page, her internal clock had completely malfunctioned. The thirty-page booklet had taken her hours because she had to stop every three panels to bury her face in her pillow and scream into the fabric. The combination of high-octane embarrassment and the strange, buzzing heat in her chest left her utterly drained.
Chirp. Chirp.
Eina's eyes snapped open. The room was flooded with the unapologetic brightness of a new day.
"Nnngh... what? Morning?"
She looked at the clock. She wasn't late—yet—but she had missed her entire night of sleep. She felt like she'd been trampled by a stampede of War Shadows. Her hair was a bird's nest, and there were dark, bruised-looking circles under her eyes.
"It's that book," she hissed, glaring at the offending object now lying innocently on her floor. "It's a psychological weapon. It's an attack on the Guild's infrastructure!"
She moved through her morning routine like a machine, fueled by spite and caffeine. By the time she reached her desk at the Guild, she was a specter of her former self.
"E-Eina? Are you okay?" Misha asked, recoiling from the 'zombie' aura radiating from the Half-Elf.
"I am a professional, Misha. I am perfectly... functional," Eina croaked, her eyes fixed on a stack of monster drop reports. She worked with a terrifying, jagged efficiency, her pen scratching against the paper with the sound of a sharpening blade.
"Ah, Eina-san!"
The voice was like a bucket of ice water. Eina froze. Bell Cranel stood before her, looking as bright and innocent as a fresh snowfall.
"B-B-Bell!? Wh-Wh-What are you d-doing here!?"
"Whoa, sudden human beatbox!" Misha whispered from the side, hidden behind a tall stack of files.
Eina couldn't help it. Looking at Bell, her brain automatically overlaid the images from the book onto reality. The way his hair fell over his eyes... the curve of his jaw... it all matched the illustrations perfectly. Her composure didn't just crack; it disintegrated.
"Ahem! Bell, I... what brings you in so early?"
"Oh, I was hoping we could do our usual study session before I head down! I really want to learn more about the vulnerabilities of the Mid-Floor species, and I knew you were the best person to—!!?"
The word study triggered a Pavlovian response. Eina's mind played back page eighteen in vivid, high-definition detail. The physical Bell was right there. The 'study room' was just twenty feet away. The pressure was too much. Her chair skidded back, and Eina Tulle, the most composed woman in the Guild, fell backward in a heap of limbs and elven panic.
"Eina-san!" Bell cried, rushing around the counter to help.
As his hand reached for her, Eina's fight-or-flight response chose 'fight' by mistake. She shoved him away with enough force to send the boy stumbling back three steps.
"Huh? Eina-san...?" The hurt in his ruby eyes was instantaneous. It was the look of a puppy that had been kicked for no reason.
The sight of his confusion acted like a splash of cold water. Eina's professional mask partially fused back together. "Ah! I... I'm so sorry, Bell! I'm just... I didn't sleep well! A monster... a mental-type monster attacked my apartment!"
"A monster in the city!?" Bell looked ready to draw his knife.
"No! No, I just... I'm not feeling well. Please, Bell, don't worry. I'm just... a little overwhelmed."
"I see..." Bell lowered his hand, his expression softening into one of pure, heartbreaking concern. "If you're sick, you shouldn't be here. We can do the study session another time. Please, get some rest, Eina-san. I'll be fine on my own today."
He bowed politely and turned to leave. Eina watched his retreating back, her heart heavy with a guilt that felt like lead. He was so kind. So genuinely worried for her. And she was standing here thinking about... that.
As he walked toward the exit, a group of low-ranking adventurers leaned against a pillar, watching the exchange with leering grins.
"Look at that," one of them snickered, loud enough for Eina's sensitive ears to catch. "Guess they aren't going to the back room for some 'adult education' today. Maybe the kid finally ran out of stamina?"
Snap.
The sound wasn't physical, but it felt like a thunderclap in Eina's mind. The exhaustion, the shame, the guilt of hurting Bell, and now the blatant disrespect... it all fused into a cold, dark fury.
"Misha..."
"Y-Yes!?" Misha snapped to attention, sensing the shift in the atmospheric pressure.
"The location. The exact stall. Where is this filth being sold?" Eina's voice was as cold as a Cocytus floor.
"I... I heard it was a small alleyway in the Southeast corner of the Entertainment District, near the 'Tipsy Nymph' tavern, ma'am!" Misha blurted out, her posture straightening into a military salute.
Eina turned to her, a smile spreading across her face. It was a beautiful smile, radiant and warm, yet it didn't reach her eyes, which remained as sharp and predatory as a hawk's. She placed a hand on Misha's shoulder.
"Are you busy after our shift, Misha?"
"H-Huh?"
"I. Said. Are. You. Busy?"
"NO! I AM COMPLETELY AT YOUR DISPOSAL, MA'AM!!"
"Excellent. Then you're going to help me conduct a 'field investigation.' We are going to find the author, the illustrator, and the distributor of this... masterpiece."
Eina turned back to her desk, her pen flying across the paperwork with a speed that left the parchment smoking. The fatigue was gone, replaced by the singular, burning drive of a woman who was about to turn the Entertainment District upside down.
"Selling a book like that without a Guild-approved license... I'm going to find them, and I'm going to ensure they spend the next month in a cell with nothing to read but tax codes!!"
Misha could only watch in terror. Eina Tulle was no longer a receptionist. She was a hunter.