Adrian pushed open the guild's front doors with a casual swing of his shoulder, the hinges creaking in protest. The two unconscious men trailed behind him, boots scraping across the floor as he dragged them by their collars like sacks of flour. He stopped at the counter, letting them slump into an unceremonious heap, then leaned against the wood, arms crossed—waiting for Misha to show up.
"Misha hey you here" adrian yelled loudly making the others inside get annoyed they had gotten used to him being weird and loud but its still annoying
Misha came sprinting out the guild doors, her boots slapping against the stone. Her breath was uneven, and her eyes wide with panic.
"Adrian!" she called, spotting him halfway across the square, still dragging the two shackled bodies behind him. "Annie's missing—she didn't come to work, and I went to her house but she wasn't there. I think—" her voice caught. "I think they took her. The church. She was investigating them."
Adrian's expression didn't shift right away. He blinked once, then slowly turned his head toward her, his tone oddly upbeat.
"Wait, you think she got taken?" he asked, dragging the limp bodies a few more steps. "Huh. Figures."
But Misha had only just noticed the two men trailing behind him—bloodied, shackled, grinning with eerily intact smiles.
"What the hell—" she recoiled, one hand half-raising as if to shield herself. "Did you assault these two and then just drag them here like... like livestock?! What is this?!"
Adrian stopped walking, let the bodies settle with a dull thump, and pointed lazily at their faces. "They attacked me first. And if you take a good look, you'll notice those happy smiles and the eyes of a corpse. Church husks. Or whatever you want to call 'em."
Misha leaned in, her eyes narrowing. She stared at the grins. At the vacant, dead stares. And then she flinched.
"…Oh."
"Yeah. Oh." Adrian gave her a smirk.
"Okay, just—tie them up somewhere. We need to talk." Her urgency returned in full force. The concern for Annie took over again.
Without a word, Adrian dragged the two up to the guild counter and, with a quick surge of mana, used matter manipulation to fuse their cuffs directly into the thick wood. The scent of scorched oak filled the air.
Misha was already halfway toward the lounge when she turned to him. "Come on. The guildmaster and vice want to talk to you. It's about Annie."
Adrian groaned, dragging his heels slightly. "Why me? I don't work for you. I just show up and do quests and—"
"You're registered," she snapped. "You do work for us, and you're already waist-deep in this, so shut up and move."
Before he could protest again, she grabbed his wrist and pulled him toward the hallway. He sighed but didn't resist.
The two passed through a carved wooden door and up a set of narrow stairs. The air grew cooler the higher they went, and when they emerged into the guildmaster's office, Adrian was greeted by the scent of old paper, tobacco, and worn-out leather.
The guildmaster sat behind his desk—a short, broad-shouldered man who looked like someone had stuffed a tank into a suit. His beard was thick, fully grey and long enough to drape over his chest, while his hair remained mostly a deep navy blue, streaked with age. His suit was clean but clearly overused, sleeves frayed near the elbows, buttons strained.
Beside him stood the vice guildmaster—an almost comically contrasting presence. A tall, silver-haired elf with skin kissed by warm sunlight and ears long and sharply pointed. Her clothes were casual: shorts, a fitted shirt, nothing ceremonial. And yet, something about her posture, her eyes, commanded more authority than anyone else in the room.
Adrian stared a moment too long.
Misha noticed. Her nails sank hard into the inside of his arm, and he flinched, hissing quietly.
"Don't ogle the vice guildmaster," she whispered through clenched teeth.
He rolled his eyes but said nothing.
Despite Misha's warning and the stinging pinch of her nails still fresh on his skin, Adrian's eyes drifted right back to the vice guildmaster. Something about her was just too curious. The long, silvery hair. The subtle grace in the way she stood—even in something as casual as shorts and a t-shirt. She didn't need to look official. Her presence was.
And then, with the speed of a striking snake, she moved.
Thunk.
A gleaming knife blurred through the air and embedded itself cleanly in Adrian's chest, right above his heart. It stopped him mid-thought, the sudden weight of it making his shoulders twitch.
His brows lifted. "Ow. Hey, that's not—" He yanked it out in one smooth motion. "—nice."
A soft pink glow flickered from his fingertips, sealing the small wound instantly. Not even a drop of blood touched the floor.
He glanced between the knife and the vice, now casually flipping a second blade between her fingers, as if daring him to look again.
"I told you not to look," Misha muttered beside him, voice low and disappointed, like a mother scolding her child for touching something hot—after being told three times not to.
Adrian opened his mouth to speak but thought better of it.
He stuffed the knife into his coat like it was a party favor and looked away. Mostly.
"Sarah, I told you not to throw knives at people," the guildmaster grumbled, still not even looking up from the paperwork in front of him. His voice was tired—like this wasn't even the first knife incident today.
"He gave me a weird vibe," Sarah said coolly, flipping her hair over one shoulder while fixing Adrian with a look that could kill a lesser man. "He looks like the kind of pervert who steals women's underwear and wears it on his head."
Adrian blinked, incredulous. "What?! How the hell do I give off that vibe?"
He jabbed a finger toward her. "If anyone here looks like a pervert, it's you. You're wearing shorts and a T-shirt in a freezing-ass kingdom. You're just showing off your body and pretending it's fashion."
His voice grew louder, frustration bubbling up. "God, I hate talking with words. Misha, can I just fight her? Just a quick one? Please?"
Misha opened her mouth to respond, but the guildmaster cut in flatly without even looking up. "No, you can't. And don't ask her for permission when I'm literally in the room."
Adrian muttered something under his breath.