Chapter 12: Internship of Doom
My grand "razzle-dazzle" plan to impress the Guild inspector required one thing I didn't have:
Actual field experience.
---
The day after Marikit's heart-tugging sleep-talk episode, I gave her the day off. She didn't argue.
The shop felt oddly hollow without her—like when you move a familiar chair and suddenly notice the space it left behind wasn't just physical. It was emotional.
Like silence you forgot was there.
---
By midday, with the sun glaring down and the wooden floorboards hot enough to roast peanuts, I found myself seated across from Lakanbini Susan in her town hall office.
The room smelled of old parchment, lemony polish, and her ever-present floral perfume—sharp but elegant, like the woman herself.
Sunlight streamed through the tall windows, spotlighting slow-dancing dust motes.
Susan sat behind her ornate desk like a chess master considering her next move—fingers steepled, eyes honed to a surgical point.
---
"So, Pepito," she said, tone as cool as iced tea during tax season. "You had a further idea regarding the Barnacle & Blade inspector?"
This was it. Showtime.
"Yes, Susan," I said, leaning forward like I was pitching on Fairy Shark Tank.
"Just showing off products isn't enough. If I want to understand what adventurers actually need out there, I need to be with them. In the thick of it."
---
Her eyebrows didn't rise, but the air got ten degrees colder.
"You're serious?" she asked.
"You want to accompany an adventuring party? Into the field?"
"I do," I nodded, wearing my best I-have-a-plan face, even though my insides were screaming.
"I need to walk a mile in their fungus-prone, possibly monster-mauled boots if I want to build better tools for them."
Her lips flattened into a blade.
"The Forest of Amihan is not a walk in the park, Pepito. It's dangerous. People get eaten."
"I'm not planning to go toe-to-toe with a dire wolf," I said quickly. "Just observe. A low-risk mission. Herb gathering, maybe. I could even hire escorts—seasoned adventurers. Strictly market research. Not a hero's journey."
I smiled. She did not.
---
Susan leaned back and groaned at the ceiling.
"You're really twisting my arm here. I'm already neck-deep in the fallout from the Whispering Seagulls Guild collapse, and now you want me to arrange your... adventurer internship?"
"I know the timing's a disaster," I said, grinning like a guilty puppy. "But you're the only power player I know in town."
She pinched her brow. "Adventurers, huh?"
"Is it impossible?" I asked.
"Complicated," she muttered. "I'm on very, very bad terms with the acting Guild Master of Whispering Seagulls."
---
My stomach sank.
"Oh? Why?"
She sighed, a sound that could bankrupt a city.
"He came in last night and demanded fifteen Ginto coins to 'stabilize the guild.'"
I choked. "Fifteen?! That's a third of the town's annual budget!"
She raised one sharp eyebrow.
"I said no. Politely. Barely. If it had been one coin, maybe. But fifteen? That's delusional."
---
I whistled low.
"So... if you help me meet an adventurer right now, it'd look like favoritism."
"And I'd be handing him a torch and pitchfork with my name on it," she growled. "We're stuck dealing with the guild's official contract system, and unfortunately... those channels are clogged. Badly."
"Who's the acting Guild Master?" I asked, already bracing for the answer.
Susan hesitated. "Tina Moran."
Ah.
Of course.
---
I remembered her. Once.
She'd browsed my stall, smiled like a dagger, and shook my hand like she was measuring my coffin. Ambitious, ruthless, and about as forgiving as an avalanche.
"You sure you still want to do this?" Susan asked, glancing sideways at me.
"Now more than ever," I said before my brain could veto my mouth.
---
She stared. Then sighed again, heavier this time, and reached for a quill.
"I'll write a letter. Frame it as a business proposal. That's the only thing that might keep her from turning you into a toad just for knocking."
The room filled with the soft scratch of ink on parchment.
Then she sealed it with the town's emblem—an elegant seal stamped with so much official flourish, it looked like it could summon bureaucratic dragons.
She handed it to me carefully, like it might explode.
---
"Take this to her. And may the spirit of Sarimanook guide you."
I blinked. "Really? You're invoking the town rooster now?"
"He's more reliable than the Guild."
Fair point.
---
"Thanks, Susan," I said, tucking the letter under my arm like it held both my future and funeral plans.
She stood, and something in her face softened—just for a moment. The iron-willed politician slipped, revealing the tired heart of someone who still cared.
"You've done more for this town than you admit, Pepito. You're acting like a real citizen now. A stakeholder in Sarimanook's future."
The words hit warm and deep.
Naturally, I deflected with sarcasm.
"Oh please. I'm just riding the wave of local consumer enthusiasm and making absurd profits."
I rubbed my fingers together. "Cha-ching?"
She barked a laugh—real and bright.
"You're impossible. And kind. And insufferable. But mostly impossible."
---
With the letter pressed close to my chest and a sense of doom growing in my gut, I left the town hall behind and set off toward the Whispering Seagulls Guild.
Step One of Operation: Impress the Inspector by Not Getting Eaten by a Grue... had officially begun