Even in dreams, the light in that alley wavered. A pale aquamarine glow. Something drifting softly dissolved into the alley like mist. Galen Strayver tried to gaze at it in that half-awake state, but his eyelids were too heavy to open. A dull ache in his lower back dragged his consciousness back to reality. ──Morning had come. Opening his eyes, he saw the ceiling boards of the Rusty Gear Tavern. A faint line of mold ran along the wood grain. Galen slowly pushed himself up. His back immediately voiced its protest. Last night's sprawl on the street had definitely left damage on his body. "...I forgot to put on the pain relief patch," Galen muttered. With a sigh, he pulled two patches from his travel bag. One on the right side of his lower back, another on the left. Just to be safe, he added a third. This was the morning ritual of a thirty-eight-year-old. He vaguely remembered reading somewhere that "an adventurer's body is their capital," but his capital was currently quite damaged. He descended the stairs slowly. His knees let out small cries of protest with each step. Hydra raised an eyebrow over the counter. "Your footsteps sound like an old man's, Galen," Hydra Morse said. "Shut up," Galen replied. Getting into a chair was a struggle, but he managed to settle at a table in the dining hall. The Rusty Gear Tavern in the morning was quiet, completely different from the night. A few regular adventurers sat at their own tables, quietly eating breakfast. A steaming iron pot of stew was placed in front of Galen. Steam rose from it. The smell of vegetables and meat drifted from the cast-iron pot, heavy with iron. The moment Galen picked up his spoon, his shoulders relaxed slightly. He was alive another day. That was enough. He took a spoonful. It was warm. Just that alone seemed to seep through to the depths of his body. The strange blade from the alley last night, himself collapsed on the street, the pale light visible from his room window—he could shelve all of that, at least for now, because this stew was that good. Then. The door opened. Or rather—the door opened, someone caught their foot on the threshold, tumbled forward, and slid across the floor. CRASH!!!! "Oh," a voice said. Everyone in the dining hall stopped. The one who had slid in was a girl dressed in pure white holy vestments. Her hem was folded, and she remained on her knees where she had stopped. Long, silvery-white wavy hair fell across her face, and she brushed it back. Pale aquamarine eyes darted around the dining hall. Her cheeks, faintly tinged with purple, blushed warmly from embarrassment. "...I've come to accept a request," Lilia Argenes said. Impressive. Not a single pained expression on her face. "......" The dining hall fell silent. "A-Are you okay!?" one regular adventurer asked. "You fell just now!? You totally fell!?" another said. "The holy vestments! The holy vestments are dirty!?" a third cried out. The regulars immediately started making a fuss. Galen tried to stand up—his back screamed—and ended up struggling in place instead. "Ugh..." he groaned. "Galen's falling too!!" one of the regulars shouted. That wasn't it. It wasn't that he was falling; his back had reached its limit. But the way he was struggling on the floor did look similar. Someone at a table in the corner of the dining hall couldn't help but laugh. Hydra stood with arms crossed. "Our floor isn't the problem, just so you know," Hydra said, getting ahead of any complaints. Lilia stood up smoothly. She brushed the dirt from her knees with little pats and straightened her posture as if nothing had happened. A silver ear cuff hung from her small left ear—a delicate piece engraved with the holy maiden's family crest, clearly expensive at first glance. In the Prevarn Kingdom, a "holy maiden" was a title granted to women whose aptitude for holy-attribute magical essence exceeded ten thousand. Only seven existed in the entire kingdom. They received an annual salary of two hundred gold coins from the "Seat of Dawn"—the kingdom's church organization. And that holy maiden was now brushing dust from the floor of the Rusty Gear Tavern's dining hall. It was surreal, to say the least. "Where is the request board?" Lilia asked. The request board was on the wall at the back of the room. She headed in that direction. Galen finally returned to his chair—protecting his back—and watched her back. The pure white holy vestments emitted a faint glow. Not artificial light. Holy-attribute magical essence seeping from her body. It must have soaked into the fabric, making it shimmer faintly. For a holy maiden to come alone to the Tornika branch of the Wanderer's Guild—an organization with one hundred forty-two branches across the continent where adventurers accepted requests and received rewards—was probably unprecedented. And now that holy maiden was... Tilting her head at the request board. Quite noticeably. Left, right, left again. "...Um," Galen called out. Lilia turned around. Her aquamarine eyes widened innocently. "You read the request board from this side," Galen said. "Oh," Lilia said. She had been trying to read it from the back. Galen set down his stew and carefully stood up, protecting his back. He stood beside Lilia and pointed out how to fill out the application form. "The name goes here. Age here, address here," he explained. "Yes!" Lilia nodded and picked up a quill pen. She wrote carefully, cautiously, one character at a time. Galen looked over her shoulder and froze. "18" was written in the name field. The address was written in the age field. The name was written in the address field. Everything was shifted. Hydra watched from the counter with a distant look. "Everything's shifted," Galen said. "Huh?" Lilia asked. "Everything's shifted," he repeated. "Huh!?" Lilia's eyes widened. Lilia held the form up and stared at it intently. Her white cheeks turned red in real time. The cheeks that looked faintly purple when she smiled now turned red, and Galen's mind briefly registered the thought that it was... cute. But this wasn't the time for such thoughts. They needed to rewrite it. "Let's write it together," Galen said. Galen settled beside Lilia. He took out a new form and began filling it out side by side with her. Lilia stared at the form with a serious expression. Her long silvery-white hair touched Galen's shoulder slightly. A faint sweet scent wafted from her. He knew from knowledge that holy-attribute magical essence had a distinctive fragrance, but this was the first time he'd felt it this close. Like a flower blooming on a spring morning, one whose name he didn't know. Or rather, something cleaner, more transparent— WHOOSH!!!! "Whoa!!" Galen cried out. Black thorns burst from Galen's right hand!!!! They shot straight at the thick beam in the ceiling—CRASH!!!! The beam groaned. The ceiling boards shook violently. Dust and wood chips rained down. Everyone in the dining hall covered their heads. "Achoo!!" one of the regulars sneezed. The black thorns were firmly embedded in the beam. Dark-colored, thin, sharp blades. Exactly like what had appeared in the alley last night—the ability that could only be called counter-attribute adaptation, whose true nature even Galen didn't understand, had activated on its own again. It had happened the moment Lilia's holy-attribute magical essence increased in pressure. "Ah!!" Lilia exclaimed. Lilia looked up at the beam with sparkling eyes. She tried to approach it. "Don't come closer!!" Galen shouted reflexively. He retreated. With each step Lilia took forward, her holy-attribute pressure increased. In response, Galen's right hand grew hot. A cup on the edge of the counter—CRASH!!—flew away!!!! "My cup!!" Hydra cried out. "Stay back! A little more!" Galen said. "But it has such an interesting shape—" Lilia said. "Curiosity later!!" Galen said. He kept backing away. Lilia kept pursuing. A sign on the wall fell. CRASH!!!! One of the regulars' hat flew off!!!! "My hat!!" the regular shouted. Galen tried to slip behind a table. His foot caught on the table leg. He stumbled. Lilia's holy-attribute pressure surged even higher. Black threads extended from beneath Galen's feet. The threads tangled around Lilia's holy vestment hem. "Ah—" Lilia said. She was pulled forward and fell face-first. THUD!!!! Her face crashed into Galen's chest. Galen fell backward with his chair. CRASH!!!!!!! Silence. The dining hall froze. Galen was lying on the floor with Lilia folded on top of him. Her face was buried in his chest. Her silvery-white hair covered Galen's face. And that scent—that clean flower fragrance again—hit his nostrils directly. Oh no. Something in Galen's chest beat once, stupidly loud. Lilia lifted her face. Her aquamarine eyes looked directly at Galen from a distance of ten centimeters. Or maybe closer. Galen noticed that his own face, reflected in those eyes, was red all the way to his ears. "...Are you okay?" Lilia asked. She asked it so naturally. "I'm... thirty-eight," Galen said. It was a nonsensical statement, but that was all he could manage. The dining hall regulars burst out laughing all at once. "Bwahahaha!!!!" "That's rough at thirty-eight!!" one of them said. "It's just my back and knees! I can't get up because of the pain!!" Galen protested. He wasn't fooling anyone. Hydra stood with arms crossed. "I'm billing you for the beam repairs. Eight silver coins," Hydra said. "..." Galen said nothing. His wallet hurt worse than his back. Lilia finally got off Galen. The two of them stood up from the floor. Galen surveyed the scattered dining hall with his hand on his back. Broken cup pieces, a fallen sign, black thorns still embedded in the beam, a regular's hat that had flown off. And a repair bill that rarely appeared. "What a brutal morning..." Galen muttered. "Indeed!" Lilia agreed cheerfully. Don't agree so enthusiastically. Hydra leaned on the counter and stared at Lilia intently. "Speaking of which, last night," Hydra said, her tone changing. "There was a large dark-attribute slime that appeared in the city. You remember, Galen? That slimy thing. Apparently it came out chasing holy-attribute light," Hydra continued. Noctus Gel—an upper-tier dark-attribute slime. It had the habit of being attracted to places with concentrated holy-attribute magical essence. The events from the alley last night came back to Galen's memory. Galen looked at Lilia. Lilia looked away. "...Lilia Argenes," Galen said. "Yes," Lilia replied. "Were you doing something last night?" Galen asked. "...I was practicing holy magic, and..." Lilia said. "Yes," Galen said. "I leaked too much," Lilia said. She admitted it so readily. Galen covered his face with both hands. "Leaked too much..." he said. "I'm so sorry! I confirmed that the people in the alley weren't harmed, but I didn't expect monsters to appear..." Lilia said, bowing deeply. Her silvery-white hair flowed smoothly. Her gesture was genuinely sincere, and Galen couldn't bring himself to be angry. Hydra went to the request board. She flipped through the forms and pulled one out. She slammed it on the table. "I have just the request for you," Hydra said. The form read: ──Nearby farm warehouse, dark-attribute small slimes mass outbreak. Requires attribute compatibility. Reward: three silver coins── "You with holy attributes would have trouble with dark types. But if you team up with Galen, who can use dark power, that's a different story. Perfect combo, right?" Hydra said. "I haven't even agreed to—" Galen started. WHOOSH!!!! The leg of the chair Galen had been sitting in shattered. It collapsed. THUD!!!! "—I accept," Galen said from the floor. Laughter erupted in the dining hall. ─── Outside Tornika, the autumn air touched their cheeks coldly. The gray-barked ash trees that surrounded the city to the north swayed in the wind. The fa