Chapter 12:
Scam Me Once, Shame on Me… Wait, Is That a Fox Girl?!
The Espiritu Inheritance
Chapter Twelve: Scam Me Once, Shame on Me… Wait, Is That a Fox Girl?!
The "Adventurers' Guild" is a staple of fantasy. We picture roaring hearths, overflowing tankards, and burly warriors singing shanties. In reality, it’s mostly paperwork, alcoholism, and people trying to justify why they need to expense a sword.I pocketed Susan’s letter like an RPG protagonist about to fight a boss—the kind with no tutorial, no armor, and absolutely no emotional preparation.I followed the map pin projected by BEP, walking past the edge of town where the cobblestones gave way to packed dirt. The salty breeze of the coastal road faded into the humid, stagnant air of the wild grass. Trees loomed closer, whispering like they were considering unionizing against the concept of sunshine.The Whispering Seagulls Guild sat at the boundary between civilization and regret.Honestly? The place looked like a forgotten loading-screen asset. It looked like God had rage-quit halfway through rendering it.“…This is it?” I muttered. Disappointment tasted like expired cereal.The building was a rotting warehouse, half-reclaimed by moss and neglect. A peeling sign above the door read: WHISPERING SEAGULLS ADVENTURERS GUILD.The painted seagull beneath the text looked like it was mid-existential crisis. There was no roaring hearth. No ale-soaked warriors boasting of kills. Just a thick, ominous, something-is-definitely-haunted silence.[BEP CONSULTANT LOG: Scanning structural integrity.][Results: 14% Wood, 86% Prayer.][Suggestion: Do not lean against the walls unless you wish to become part of the floor.]I pushed open the creaky door, already expecting tetanus.“Uh… hello? Is the Acting Guild Master here?”My voice echoed like it was trying to escape. The air inside was dusty and stale, smelling faintly of rust, old tears, and abandoned dreams.Then I heard it.Sob. Hic. Sob.…Oh no.Behind the massive reception desk—which was comically large for the empty room—a small figure was hunched over, shoulders shaking.She had fox ears. Soft, russet-colored, and drooping so low they nearly brushed the desk. A fluffy tail curled beside her on the stool like it had also given up on life.I cleared my throat. “Uh—hi. Sorry to interrupt the emotional breakdown, but—”She wailed louder. [SOB UPGRADE UNLOCKED.]I edged closer and tapped her shoulder carefully, like she was a bomb made entirely of feelings.She exploded off the stool.“KYAA!!” she shrieked, spinning around in full panic-mode. “W-When did you get in?! Why are you touching me?! Are you one of those creepy merchant perverts?! I have pepper spray! Somewhere!”“WHAT—no!” I yelped, backing up with my hands raised. “Lady, I’m just here to deliver a letter!”She threw a series of chaotic air punches. I dodged both of them by standing perfectly still.“This is the Whispering Seagulls Guild!” she shouted, her tail bristling until it looked like a bottle brush. “One scream from me and four thousand battle-hardened adventurers will appear in under sixty seconds to turn you into mulch!”I looked around. Empty. Dusty. Depressing. A single fly buzzed lazily.[BEP ANALYSIS: Probability of 4,000 adventurers appearing: 0.0001%.][Probability of a stray cat appearing: 12%.][User, her combat style is 'Caffeinated Flailing.' You are technically the apex predator in this room. How embarrassing for both of you.]“Right,” I said slowly. “And I’m the secret heir to the Dragon Throne of Netflix.”She puffed up, trying to look intimidating despite being about five feet tall. “Everyone’s out! On important, very real, synchronized quests! A dragon! Two dragons! It’s a busy season!”I sighed. “Ma’am, I’m not here to flirt, rob you, or get stabbed with a soup spoon. Can we move on?”Her ears perked halfway. “Oh. Business?”Her eyes—sharp, golden, and terrifyingly intelligent—scanned me like I was a suspicious snack.“You’re here to register! Lucky you! SEAGULLS SPECIAL GUILD PROMO!!”She yanked out a crumpled flyer from her cleavage.“For just FIVE PILAK, we skip the entrance exam and register you immediately! And for just TEN MORE, you get instant Bronze Rank! No paperwork. Just vibes!”She shoved something into my face.A spoon. A dull, sad-looking metal spoon.“…Why a spoon?” I asked, bewildered.“WHY NOT A SPOON?!” she roared. “YOU CAN’T KILL MONSTERS ON AN EMPTY STOMACH!! It represents sustenance! Survival! The hunger for glory!”She lunged over the desk and grabbed my shoulders with alarming strength, eyes sparkling with pure business panic.“Come on! Fifteen Pilak! Bronze Rank! Spoon! Glory! Please, I haven’t eaten a real meal in two days!”I gently peeled her off me like a distressed koala.“That was… passionate. But I’m here to speak with the Acting Guild Master.”She froze. Then deflated.“Oh,” she said softly. She slumped back onto her stool. “I’m… I’m the Acting Guild Master. Tina Moran. For now. Probably not for much longer.”System Error. Pepito.exe has stopped responding.I stared. This crying, scammy, spoon-wielding fox girl… was Tina ‘Smiles-Like-a-Blade’ Moran? The terrifying woman Susan warned me about?“WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAT?!”The shout blasted out of me like a miscast fireball. It echoed through the empty hall. No adventurers appeared. Not even a spoon salesman.The mighty Whispering Seagulls Guild. Run by a sobbing fox girl pushing discount scams and emotional damage.[BEP EVALUATION: Market Pivot detected. Your 'internship' just downgraded from 'Heroic Journey' to 'Non-Profit Charity Case.' Also, the spoon is zinc-plated. Total value: 0.2 Tanso. This is the worst scam I have ever witnessed. I am offended on a professional level.]“Perfect,” I muttered, looking at the crying fox girl. “This is fine. Everything is absolutely, catastrophically fine.”I hadn’t even left town yet, and I already wanted a refund on this reality. Tina Moran is a mess, the Guild is bankrupt, and the inspector is coming.The LetterTina—who had just offered me a spoon like it was a sacred relic—froze. Every muscle locked up. Her fox ears twitched once… then flattened so hard they practically vanished into her hair.The moment I mentioned the Lakanbini, it was like I’d slapped her across the soul with a wet tax form.“Excuse me,” she said, her voice dropping five octaves into murder territory. “Who did you say that letter was from?”“Uh… Susan Sumilang?” I said carefully, producing the wax-sealed envelope. “The Lakanbini?”Her eye twitched. You could practically hear the cartoon TWANG.“You mean that Lakanbini?” Tina hissed. “That self-righteous, penny-pinching, cleavage-blessed traitor?!”“…I wouldn’t describe her that way,” I mumbled. My brain, traitorously: Honestly? Not the worst description.“She’s all boobs and betrayal!” Tina screamed.Then, with the dramatic flair of an anime villain, she snatched the letter from my hand and ripped it clean in half.RIIIIIP.Paper fragments fluttered through the air like offended doves.“HEY! That was official municipal documentation!” I yelled.“And this—” she snarled, sweeping an arm at the empty, cobwebbed hall, “—is an officially dead guild! You think I don’t see what she’s doing? She’s sending you to spy on the corpse! She wants to build a shiny new guild for her Capital pets while this one gets swept under the rug!”Her voice cracked. A single tear rolled down her cheek, slow and devastating.“I’m sure there’s… a reasonable explanation,” I tried.“She’s a traitor! A coin-hoarding, backstabbing, C-cup sellout!” Tina slammed the counter hard enough to shake loose dust and ancient receipts. “I begged her! Fifteen Ginto! A lifeline loan! And she turned me down like I was robbing the treasury!”“…To be fair,” I said weakly, “fifteen Ginto is a lot of money.”Mistake.“Oh. So now you’re on her side,” Tina snapped, eyes narrowing. “Guess all it takes is a push-up bra and a title, huh? Men are all the same.”“THAT IS NOT—”She deflated mid-sentence. She leaned her forehead against the cool wood of the desk.“You know what hurts the most?” she whispered. “I thought we were friends. We went to the Academy together. We had matching Sarimanok Spirit mugs. With glitter decals.”…Okay. That hurt me too.She reached under the counter, pulled out a chipped teacup, and poured herself a generous shot of unlabeled brown liquid. The fumes alone assaulted my soul. She slammed it back. No hesitation.“Fermented plum wine,” she muttered. “Aged in the tears of disappointed interns.”[BEP CONSULTANT LOG: Detecting 90% ABV and 100% emotional instability. User, do not accept a drink. Your liver is 'Level 1' and that liquid is 'End-Game Boss' tier.]“Guild’s broke,” Tina sighed, pouring another shot. “Guild Master died. Vice-Guild Master ran off with the treasury. His accountant—also his side chick, allegedly—vanished the same night. They took everything. Even the coffee machine.”My jaw dropped. “That’s… a lot of drama for one fiscal year.”“You try running a guild with no money, no backup, and a magic parchment duplicator that only works if you slap it twice and apologize.”I blinked. “…Kudos for sticking it out?”She smiled faintly. “You’re sweet. Sweet people are easier to emotionally manipulate.”Then her eyes lit up. The sadness vanished, replaced by predatory capitalism.“Wait! You had business, right? You mentioned business before the Lakanbini ruined the vibe?”“Oh—yes!” I grabbed the opening like a lifeline. “I’m not a spy. I’m a client. I’d like to hire a team from the Whispering Seagulls Guild.”She straightened so fast her spine cracked like a glow stick.“Absolutely!” she purred. “What can our fine establishment do for you today, dearest valued patron? Monster hunting? Caravan escort? Revenge killing? We have a discount on revenge!”The emotional whiplash was severe enough to taste colors.“I need a field escort,” I explained. “Low-risk. Observational mission. I need to see how adventurers work in the field. Preferably no trolls or collapsing ruins.”She tapped her chin, her tail swishing thoughtfully.“We have one party available. High-ranked. Loyal. Mostly. Still here because they haven’t figured out where else to go. Or they’re too stubborn to leave.”“But?”“They’re pricey. Ten Pilak per adventurer per day. Four adventurers. Plus guild commission—twenty percent.”I did the math.“Total?”“One hundred forty-four Pilak. Three days. Upfront.”She said the number like it was a challenge. Like she expected me to laugh and leave.I reached into my pocket. I pulled out my coin purse.I dropped two Ginto on the counter. Two hundred Pilak.Clink. Clink.The sound was heavy, solid, and undeniable.“Keep the change,” I said. “Consider it a donation to the coffee machine fund.”She stared at the gold coins like I’d summoned a unicorn made of money. Her hands hovered over them, trembling.“You… paid upfront? In full? And tipped?” Her voice squeaked. “Who are you?”“I’m a merchant. Pepito Espiritu.”Her pupils dilated. One hand drifted toward her uniform buttons.Oh no.“You wouldn’t guess it,” she purred, leaning over the counter until I could smell the plum wine and desperation. “But I love rich people.”Pop. Pop. Pop.Three buttons of her blouse vanished in under a second. She reached across the counter and laced her fingers through mine.“You’re cute, charming, and wealthy,” she whispered, batting her eyelashes. “Triple S-tier. Are you single? Do you need a wife? Or a very enthusiastic pet?”I felt my face heating up to the temperature of a Pocket Inferno.“I feel like you’re trying to unlock a romance route,” I said, yanking my hand back.She giggled. “I’m multi-classing. Guild Mistress Supreme and emotional bandit.”“Can we not?” I begged. “Back to the mission?”“Fine.” She re-buttoned exactly one button. “Come back tomorrow afternoon. I’ll arrange introductions. Bring sturdy boots. Maybe a will.”“Cool. Love that energy.”“Oh! Wait!” she called as I turned to leave. Her voice softened.“Thank you, Mister Pepito,” she said, dragging out my name like a confession. “For choosing our guild… and for your generosity…”Her thumbs started circling my palm again.“I GET IT,” I yelped. “Please let go before I die of embarrassment!”She laughed, a bright, fox-like sound. “One more question. Are you free tonight? For a private consultation about guild funding? And maybe spoon storage?”“NOPE! Busy! Inventory! Extremely important inventory! Goodbye!”I fled into the street like I was escaping a natural disaster. Behind me, Tina’s laughter followed me into the salt-spray air.[BEP ANALYSIS: Transaction Successful.][Guild bridge established.][However, User's 'Defense Against Thirst' stat is critically low. Suggestion: Wear a turtleneck next time. And perhaps bring pepper spray. For yourself.]I rubbed my temples as I walked back toward town. I’d signed up for field research, not psychological warfare.The adventure hadn't even started, and I was already emotionally bankrupt. But at least I had a team.Tomorrow, I would meet the adventurers who cost me two gold coins. They better be good.Author's Note:And that is Tina Moran.Fox-kin (or similar beast-kin) are often portrayed as cute or cunning. Tina is... a mess. A desperate, overworked, alcoholic mess who is trying to hold a crumbling institution together with duct tape and flirtation.The Guild: It really is in shambles. This isn't just a plot device; it's the economic reality of the setting. When the money leaves, the heroes leave.Next Chapter: We meet the "Elite Team." If the Guild Master is this chaotic, imagine the employees.- Author
The "Adventurers' Guild" is a staple of fantasy. We picture roaring hearths, overflowing tankards, and burly warriors singing shanties. In reality, it’s mostly paperwork, alcoholism, and people trying to justify why they need to expense a sword.I pocketed Susan’s letter like an RPG protagonist about to fight a boss—the kind with no tutorial, no armor, and absolutely no emotional preparation.I followed the map pin projected by BEP, walking past the edge of town where the cobblestones gave way to packed dirt. The salty breeze of the coastal road faded into the humid, stagnant air of the wild grass. Trees loomed closer, whispering like they were considering unionizing against the concept of sunshine.The Whispering Seagulls Guild sat at the boundary between civilization and regret.Honestly? The place looked like a forgotten loading-screen asset. It looked like God had rage-quit halfway through rendering it.“…This is it?” I muttered. Disappointment tasted like expired cereal.The building was a rotting warehouse, half-reclaimed by moss and neglect. A peeling sign above the door read: WHISPERING SEAGULLS ADVENTURERS GUILD.The painted seagull beneath the text looked like it was mid-existential crisis. There was no roaring hearth. No ale-soaked warriors boasting of kills. Just a thick, ominous, something-is-definitely-haunted silence.[BEP CONSULTANT LOG: Scanning structural integrity.][Results: 14% Wood, 86% Prayer.][Suggestion: Do not lean against the walls unless you wish to become part of the floor.]I pushed open the creaky door, already expecting tetanus.“Uh… hello? Is the Acting Guild Master here?”My voice echoed like it was trying to escape. The air inside was dusty and stale, smelling faintly of rust, old tears, and abandoned dreams.Then I heard it.Sob. Hic. Sob.…Oh no.Behind the massive reception desk—which was comically large for the empty room—a small figure was hunched over, shoulders shaking.She had fox ears. Soft, russet-colored, and drooping so low they nearly brushed the desk. A fluffy tail curled beside her on the stool like it had also given up on life.I cleared my throat. “Uh—hi. Sorry to interrupt the emotional breakdown, but—”She wailed louder. [SOB UPGRADE UNLOCKED.]I edged closer and tapped her shoulder carefully, like she was a bomb made entirely of feelings.She exploded off the stool.“KYAA!!” she shrieked, spinning around in full panic-mode. “W-When did you get in?! Why are you touching me?! Are you one of those creepy merchant perverts?! I have pepper spray! Somewhere!”“WHAT—no!” I yelped, backing up with my hands raised. “Lady, I’m just here to deliver a letter!”She threw a series of chaotic air punches. I dodged both of them by standing perfectly still.“This is the Whispering Seagulls Guild!” she shouted, her tail bristling until it looked like a bottle brush. “One scream from me and four thousand battle-hardened adventurers will appear in under sixty seconds to turn you into mulch!”I looked around. Empty. Dusty. Depressing. A single fly buzzed lazily.[BEP ANALYSIS: Probability of 4,000 adventurers appearing: 0.0001%.][Probability of a stray cat appearing: 12%.][User, her combat style is 'Caffeinated Flailing.' You are technically the apex predator in this room. How embarrassing for both of you.]“Right,” I said slowly. “And I’m the secret heir to the Dragon Throne of Netflix.”She puffed up, trying to look intimidating despite being about five feet tall. “Everyone’s out! On important, very real, synchronized quests! A dragon! Two dragons! It’s a busy season!”I sighed. “Ma’am, I’m not here to flirt, rob you, or get stabbed with a soup spoon. Can we move on?”Her ears perked halfway. “Oh. Business?”Her eyes—sharp, golden, and terrifyingly intelligent—scanned me like I was a suspicious snack.“You’re here to register! Lucky you! SEAGULLS SPECIAL GUILD PROMO!!”She yanked out a crumpled flyer from her cleavage.“For just FIVE PILAK, we skip the entrance exam and register you immediately! And for just TEN MORE, you get instant Bronze Rank! No paperwork. Just vibes!”She shoved something into my face.A spoon. A dull, sad-looking metal spoon.“…Why a spoon?” I asked, bewildered.“WHY NOT A SPOON?!” she roared. “YOU CAN’T KILL MONSTERS ON AN EMPTY STOMACH!! It represents sustenance! Survival! The hunger for glory!”She lunged over the desk and grabbed my shoulders with alarming strength, eyes sparkling with pure business panic.“Come on! Fifteen Pilak! Bronze Rank! Spoon! Glory! Please, I haven’t eaten a real meal in two days!”I gently peeled her off me like a distressed koala.“That was… passionate. But I’m here to speak with the Acting Guild Master.”She froze. Then deflated.“Oh,” she said softly. She slumped back onto her stool. “I’m… I’m the Acting Guild Master. Tina Moran. For now. Probably not for much longer.”System Error. Pepito.exe has stopped responding.I stared. This crying, scammy, spoon-wielding fox girl… was Tina ‘Smiles-Like-a-Blade’ Moran? The terrifying woman Susan warned me about?“WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAT?!”The shout blasted out of me like a miscast fireball. It echoed through the empty hall. No adventurers appeared. Not even a spoon salesman.The mighty Whispering Seagulls Guild. Run by a sobbing fox girl pushing discount scams and emotional damage.[BEP EVALUATION: Market Pivot detected. Your 'internship' just downgraded from 'Heroic Journey' to 'Non-Profit Charity Case.' Also, the spoon is zinc-plated. Total value: 0.2 Tanso. This is the worst scam I have ever witnessed. I am offended on a professional level.]“Perfect,” I muttered, looking at the crying fox girl. “This is fine. Everything is absolutely, catastrophically fine.”I hadn’t even left town yet, and I already wanted a refund on this reality. Tina Moran is a mess, the Guild is bankrupt, and the inspector is coming.The LetterTina—who had just offered me a spoon like it was a sacred relic—froze. Every muscle locked up. Her fox ears twitched once… then flattened so hard they practically vanished into her hair.The moment I mentioned the Lakanbini, it was like I’d slapped her across the soul with a wet tax form.“Excuse me,” she said, her voice dropping five octaves into murder territory. “Who did you say that letter was from?”“Uh… Susan Sumilang?” I said carefully, producing the wax-sealed envelope. “The Lakanbini?”Her eye twitched. You could practically hear the cartoon TWANG.“You mean that Lakanbini?” Tina hissed. “That self-righteous, penny-pinching, cleavage-blessed traitor?!”“…I wouldn’t describe her that way,” I mumbled. My brain, traitorously: Honestly? Not the worst description.“She’s all boobs and betrayal!” Tina screamed.Then, with the dramatic flair of an anime villain, she snatched the letter from my hand and ripped it clean in half.RIIIIIP.Paper fragments fluttered through the air like offended doves.“HEY! That was official municipal documentation!” I yelled.“And this—” she snarled, sweeping an arm at the empty, cobwebbed hall, “—is an officially dead guild! You think I don’t see what she’s doing? She’s sending you to spy on the corpse! She wants to build a shiny new guild for her Capital pets while this one gets swept under the rug!”Her voice cracked. A single tear rolled down her cheek, slow and devastating.“I’m sure there’s… a reasonable explanation,” I tried.“She’s a traitor! A coin-hoarding, backstabbing, C-cup sellout!” Tina slammed the counter hard enough to shake loose dust and ancient receipts. “I begged her! Fifteen Ginto! A lifeline loan! And she turned me down like I was robbing the treasury!”“…To be fair,” I said weakly, “fifteen Ginto is a lot of money.”Mistake.“Oh. So now you’re on her side,” Tina snapped, eyes narrowing. “Guess all it takes is a push-up bra and a title, huh? Men are all the same.”“THAT IS NOT—”She deflated mid-sentence. She leaned her forehead against the cool wood of the desk.“You know what hurts the most?” she whispered. “I thought we were friends. We went to the Academy together. We had matching Sarimanok Spirit mugs. With glitter decals.”…Okay. That hurt me too.She reached under the counter, pulled out a chipped teacup, and poured herself a generous shot of unlabeled brown liquid. The fumes alone assaulted my soul. She slammed it back. No hesitation.“Fermented plum wine,” she muttered. “Aged in the tears of disappointed interns.”[BEP CONSULTANT LOG: Detecting 90% ABV and 100% emotional instability. User, do not accept a drink. Your liver is 'Level 1' and that liquid is 'End-Game Boss' tier.]“Guild’s broke,” Tina sighed, pouring another shot. “Guild Master died. Vice-Guild Master ran off with the treasury. His accountant—also his side chick, allegedly—vanished the same night. They took everything. Even the coffee machine.”My jaw dropped. “That’s… a lot of drama for one fiscal year.”“You try running a guild with no money, no backup, and a magic parchment duplicator that only works if you slap it twice and apologize.”I blinked. “…Kudos for sticking it out?”She smiled faintly. “You’re sweet. Sweet people are easier to emotionally manipulate.”Then her eyes lit up. The sadness vanished, replaced by predatory capitalism.“Wait! You had business, right? You mentioned business before the Lakanbini ruined the vibe?”“Oh—yes!” I grabbed the opening like a lifeline. “I’m not a spy. I’m a client. I’d like to hire a team from the Whispering Seagulls Guild.”She straightened so fast her spine cracked like a glow stick.“Absolutely!” she purred. “What can our fine establishment do for you today, dearest valued patron? Monster hunting? Caravan escort? Revenge killing? We have a discount on revenge!”The emotional whiplash was severe enough to taste colors.“I need a field escort,” I explained. “Low-risk. Observational mission. I need to see how adventurers work in the field. Preferably no trolls or collapsing ruins.”She tapped her chin, her tail swishing thoughtfully.“We have one party available. High-ranked. Loyal. Mostly. Still here because they haven’t figured out where else to go. Or they’re too stubborn to leave.”“But?”“They’re pricey. Ten Pilak per adventurer per day. Four adventurers. Plus guild commission—twenty percent.”I did the math.“Total?”“One hundred forty-four Pilak. Three days. Upfront.”She said the number like it was a challenge. Like she expected me to laugh and leave.I reached into my pocket. I pulled out my coin purse.I dropped two Ginto on the counter. Two hundred Pilak.Clink. Clink.The sound was heavy, solid, and undeniable.“Keep the change,” I said. “Consider it a donation to the coffee machine fund.”She stared at the gold coins like I’d summoned a unicorn made of money. Her hands hovered over them, trembling.“You… paid upfront? In full? And tipped?” Her voice squeaked. “Who are you?”“I’m a merchant. Pepito Espiritu.”Her pupils dilated. One hand drifted toward her uniform buttons.Oh no.“You wouldn’t guess it,” she purred, leaning over the counter until I could smell the plum wine and desperation. “But I love rich people.”Pop. Pop. Pop.Three buttons of her blouse vanished in under a second. She reached across the counter and laced her fingers through mine.“You’re cute, charming, and wealthy,” she whispered, batting her eyelashes. “Triple S-tier. Are you single? Do you need a wife? Or a very enthusiastic pet?”I felt my face heating up to the temperature of a Pocket Inferno.“I feel like you’re trying to unlock a romance route,” I said, yanking my hand back.She giggled. “I’m multi-classing. Guild Mistress Supreme and emotional bandit.”“Can we not?” I begged. “Back to the mission?”“Fine.” She re-buttoned exactly one button. “Come back tomorrow afternoon. I’ll arrange introductions. Bring sturdy boots. Maybe a will.”“Cool. Love that energy.”“Oh! Wait!” she called as I turned to leave. Her voice softened.“Thank you, Mister Pepito,” she said, dragging out my name like a confession. “For choosing our guild… and for your generosity…”Her thumbs started circling my palm again.“I GET IT,” I yelped. “Please let go before I die of embarrassment!”She laughed, a bright, fox-like sound. “One more question. Are you free tonight? For a private consultation about guild funding? And maybe spoon storage?”“NOPE! Busy! Inventory! Extremely important inventory! Goodbye!”I fled into the street like I was escaping a natural disaster. Behind me, Tina’s laughter followed me into the salt-spray air.[BEP ANALYSIS: Transaction Successful.][Guild bridge established.][However, User's 'Defense Against Thirst' stat is critically low. Suggestion: Wear a turtleneck next time. And perhaps bring pepper spray. For yourself.]I rubbed my temples as I walked back toward town. I’d signed up for field research, not psychological warfare.The adventure hadn't even started, and I was already emotionally bankrupt. But at least I had a team.Tomorrow, I would meet the adventurers who cost me two gold coins. They better be good.Author's Note:And that is Tina Moran.Fox-kin (or similar beast-kin) are often portrayed as cute or cunning. Tina is... a mess. A desperate, overworked, alcoholic mess who is trying to hold a crumbling institution together with duct tape and flirtation.The Guild: It really is in shambles. This isn't just a plot device; it's the economic reality of the setting. When the money leaves, the heroes leave.Next Chapter: We meet the "Elite Team." If the Guild Master is this chaotic, imagine the employees.- Author
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