Warm light streamed through the curtains of the guest room in the Adventurer Guild, painting soft gold across the walls. The quiet stillness of the early hour lingered in the room, broken only by faint footsteps and muffled chatter somewhere beyond the door. Lyra shifted beneath the blanket, still half-lost in dreams, until the low murmur of familiar voices tugged her fully awake.
"Look at her, sleeping peacefully," Meyla said in a tone that was far too amused for Lyra's liking.
"Even with that mask she still looks so cute," Ilvra added, her voice dripping with fondness.
"Why is she even using a mask in the first place?" Vorrik asked, curiosity evident.
"For warding off unwanted attention, what else?" Serenya replied without missing a beat. "She's just a little girl traveling alone. But as expected of my sister—she's so cute."
"Hey, you'll wake her up," Kaerron muttered in warning.
The voices quieted for a second before Serenya spoke again, louder this time. "Oh? Did we wake you up?"
Lyra shifted, stretching her arms slowly. "No, I just woke up. What time is it now?"
"Around nine in the morning," Meyla answered casually.
"Wait… nine?" Lyra sat up, blinking at them. "Why are you all still here? Don't you have things to do?"
"Well, we didn't want to wake you up, and we don't have any urgent plans," Ilvra said. "So we decided to wait. Besides, your sleeping face was worth it."
"We can't just leave a sleeping girl alone," Kaerron added matter-of-factly.
"That's right," Serenya agreed. "So you don't need to worry about delaying us."
Lyra rubbed her eyes, feeling a small warmth in her chest. "Thank you. Waiting for me must have been boring though."
"Not at all," Meyla reassured her. "Watching you sleep peacefully makes me happy."
Serenya leaned forward slightly. "Do you have plans for today? If not, why don't you come to our party house? We're resting today, no quests."
"I actually have an appointment with the caravan leader I want to join this afternoon," Lyra explained. "But if you give me the address, I can visit once I'm done."
"Perfect. Come for dinner, then," Serenya said, handing her a small folded paper with the address.
"Thanks. I'll come after I'm done with the caravan leader."
"That's settled, then. Before we go, how about breakfast together at the bar? My treat," Serenya suggested with a grin.
"Let's go!" the party chorused.
The group made their way downstairs, the morning bustle of the guild greeting them. They settled at a table in the bar area, ordering a spread of bread, cheese, and steaming mugs of herbal tea. Laughter and casual conversation flowed easily between bites, the atmosphere warm and unhurried.
When breakfast was done, they stepped outside into the crisp morning air. Their paths parted at the street corner—the Obsidian Veil heading off together, and Lyra calling for a carriage to take her back to her inn.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Another day starts, she thought, pulling her cloak a little tighter as the carriage rolled away.
Lyra stepped down from the carriage and entered the inn. Just as she was about to head toward her room, the receptionist—this time a petite girl about Lyra's age—called out to her.
"Miss, since you didn't return last night, your dinner wasn't prepared. The payment should be refunded to you," the girl said, holding out a few coins.
Lyra glanced at the money, then smiled faintly. "You can keep that for yourself. Think of it as a tip, and if I don't come back in the future, the money's yours."
"Really? Thank you, miss!" The receptionist bowed her head, clutching the coins.
"You're welcome." Lyra moved on toward her room.
Once inside, she immediately bathed—she hadn't done so since yesterday. Dressed again, cloak and mask adjusted, she left her room. A glance at the clock showed it was around eleven. Since the café she was heading to wasn't far, she decided to walk and browse the street stalls along the way.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
After about forty-five minutes, she checked the address given by the Merchant Association. Soon, a sign reading Gilded Bean came into view above a cozy-looking café.
"Is this the right place?" she murmured, stepping inside.
A man waved her over. "Are you the caravan leader?" she asked.
"My name is Garrick, and that's indeed me. You're the one who wants to join as an escort, right?"
"Yes, that's me. My nickname is Aurelia."
"Do you want to order anything? My treat."
"A hot chocolate then."
He placed the order. A short while later, the waiter returned with hot chocolate and a small plate of cookies.
"Cookies? I only ordered hot chocolate," Lyra remarked.
"Just accept it as a gift for our meeting," Garrick said easily.
He leaned back. "Let's talk payment. Five gold, plus food and accommodation during the trip to the capital. How about it?"
"Wait—straight to payment? No test? I'm just an Iron-rank adventurer. Shouldn't there be a test to check my capabilities?"
"I'm a merchant, I have connections. I know who you are—a young adventurer who reached Iron rank in a day, recruited by one of the strongest parties in the city, the Obsidian Veil. How could I doubt your abilities? Sorry if it feels invasive, but I don't want a criminal joining my caravan."
"Ah, so that's how it is. Don't worry, I'm not offended. It's understandable to check about who will join your caravan."
"So, do you accept my offer?"
"I do. I just want to reach the capital, after all."
"Then it's a deal. Meet me at the south gate two days from now, in the afternoon."
"Alright. See you in two days."
Garrick left, and Lyra stayed behind to finish her hot chocolate and cookies before heading out.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Lyra walked back to the inn, her steps steady despite the bustle of the streets. Once inside, she went straight to her room, checked the time—around three in the afternoon—and decided she would visit the Obsidian Veil's residence next.
She changed into a casual outfit she usually wore when alone in her room.
"These clothes should be good," she muttered, then put on her mask and cloak.
Pulling the hood over her head, Lyra left the inn again and hailed a carriage. Settling into the seat, she watched through the window as the scenery shifted—the lively market stalls gave way to quieter lanes as they headed toward the west district where the Obsidian Veil's residence was located.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
When she arrived, she took out the slip of paper with the address and glanced at it.
"The house should be this way," she murmured, adjusting her cloak before walking down the street.
After some time, Lyra finally found the house.
"This should be the house," she murmured to herself.
She had expected something grand, considering the Obsidian Veil's prestige, but the reality was different. The house was modest yet charming, with a beautiful garden in front. It had two floors, and a sign near the gate proudly displayed the name Obsidian Veil.
Approaching the door, Lyra muttered, "I think I won't use my mask since I trust them."
She removed her mask, tucked it away, and knocked twice. After a short wait, Meyla's voice called from inside,
"Coming." Moments later, the door opened to reveal Meyla in casual clothes.
"Who's there? Is there anything I can help you with?" she asked, not recognizing Lyra at first.
Releasing her hood, Lyra said, "It's me, Lyra."
Meyla's eyes widened. "Oh my, you're so cute and beautiful, Lyra! The party's waiting—come in."
They walked to the living room, where most of the party members were gathered.
"Who's that cute little sister, Meyla?" Ilvra asked, surprised to see Meyla bringing a guest.
"This is Lyra—without her mask," Meyla introduced.
"Hello, Ilvra," Lyra greeted, hiding a small blush from the compliment.
"Eh, that's Lyra? Hey, leader, look—your little sister is here!" Ilvra called toward the kitchen.
"Lyra's here already? I'm not done cooking dinner yet—wait a few minutes!" Serenya's voice rang from within.
"Can you call Kearron and Vorrik? Dinner's almost ready," Serenya added.
"Okay," Ilvra replied, heading upstairs.
Looking around the cozy living room, Lyra took a seat on one of the sofas. "Sister Serenya is cooking dinner? I didn't know she could cook."
"Of course she can. Her cooking is the best—you'll fall in love with it," Meyla said excitedly.
"Is it really that good?" Lyra asked doubtfully. In her mind, Serenya seemed more like someone who enjoyed eating than cooking.
"Hey, I can hear you, you know! I'm confident in my cooking—just wait!" Serenya's voice called from the kitchen.
"Just as she said—just wait," Meyla grinned.
"Well, we'll see," Lyra replied with a small smirk.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
After a while, Ilvra returned with Kearron and Vorrik. They stopped in their tracks, visibly taken aback by Lyra's uncovered face. Even behind a mask, she had been beautiful—without it, her appearance was striking enough to attract unwanted attention.
"Now I know why you always wear a mask outside," Vorrik remarked. "That face of yours is worth a fortune."
"That's a rude thing to say to a girl," Kearron reminded him.
"Ah, sorry. You're not offended, are you?" Vorrik asked.
"It's fine. I know my beauty very well," Lyra replied confidently, leaving the party momentarily speechless.
"Alright, enough of that—dinner's ready," Serenya called, emerging from the kitchen with dishes in hand.
"Finally, the leader's cooking," Ilvra said, eyes lighting up.
"Is it really that good?" Lyra asked.
"Of course—it's me who made it," Serenya replied with a proud smile.
"And that face of yours," she added, glancing at Lyra, "even elves known for their beauty would feel inferior next to you."
"Of course. It's me, after all," Lyra answered with matching confidence.
"Quite narcissistic, aren't you?" Serenya teased.
"It's not narcissism—it's fact," Lyra said, and Serenya could only nod.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
After that, the group gathered in the dining room, where an impressive spread covered the table—colorful salads, tender steaks, roasted vegetables, hearty stews, fresh bread, and even a fragrant mushroom soup. The rich aromas blended into an inviting warmth.
Lyra's eyes widened slightly. "You made all this yourself?"
Serenya smiled as she took her seat beside her. "Of course. I wanted to cook tonight because you're here."
"That's right. Usually, she makes us order from restaurants," Ilvra added with a smirk.
"Our leader is stingy when it comes to cooking," Vorrik muttered under his breath, earning a sharp glare from Serenya.
"So I should have high expectations then," Lyra said, amused.
"Absolutely. Now stop talking and eat," Ilvra said, already reaching for food.
"Slow down," Kaerron chided. "The food's not going anywhere."
"Fine, fine," Ilvra grumbled.
Serenya placed a piece of steak onto Lyra's plate. "Try this first."
One bite and Lyra's expression lit up. "The meat's so tender… juicy… what kind is this?"
"It's venison — deer meat," Serenya replied with a grin. "Fresh from the market this morning. Glad you like it—if you want, I can make more for you later."
"Tch, biased," Vorrik muttered.
"Any complaints?" Serenya's eyes narrowed.
"…No," Vorrik said quickly.
They chatted and ate until the table was cleared. Kaerron and Vorrik took the dishes away while Serenya leaned toward Lyra.
"So, did you finish your talk with the caravan leader?"
"Yes. We've come to an agreement—we'll be leaving in two days," Lyra replied.
"Good. I also contacted an acquaintance in the capital. She's agreed to look after you while you're there," Serenya said.
"Really? Thank you. But… is there anything I can do in return? I don't want to just freeload," Lyra asked.
"Her name is Arivelle and she's a fashion designer. She'd like you to model for her while you stay. That means you might have to take off your mask," Serenya explained.
"That's fine. I'm not planning to hide my face while staying at her place anyway. The security there should be excellent, so I'll accept," Lyra agreed.
"You'll regret saying that once you meet her," Ilvra warned with a smirk.
Lyra blinked. "What do you mean? She just wants me to wear a few outfits, right?"
"You'll see," Meyla said with a mysterious smile.
Lyra sighed. "Then I guess I'll find out when I arrive there. How will I meet her?"
"You won't need to search. She'll find you at the city gate," Serenya said.
"At the gate? But there'll be hundreds of people there—how will she know which one is me?" Lyra asked.
"She has a Gift that lets her recognize a person's magical imprint instantly. I included yours when I sent the letter," Serenya replied.
"And how did you get my imprint? Isn't it unique?" Lyra asked.
"My Gift lets me copy a person's imprint just by watching them use magic. It's why my illusions are so convincing—they don't just look right, they feel right," Serenya said with a small smile.
"That's… a very convenient Gift for infiltration," Lyra commented.
"It is," Serenya admitted.
"So, what's your plan for the next two days?" Serenya asked.
"I'm aiming to reach Steel rank before we leave. That means at least seven more Steel-rank quests," Lyra said.
"Then why don't we team up again and take two or three Silver-rank quests instead?" Ilvra offered.
"Is that all right? I don't want to impose after everything you've done for me," Lyra said.
"You're not a bother at all. Right, leader?" Meyla added.
"Of course not," Serenya agreed.
"Then I accept," Lyra said.
She glanced at the window. "It's getting late. I should head back to my inn."
"Why not stay here tonight? You can share my room," Serenya offered.
"Yes, you should stay," Ilvra said quickly.
"Let's have a proper girl talk in the leader's room," Meyla added.
Lyra chuckled. "If you insist."
They went upstairs to Serenya's room. That night, the four of them stayed up sharing stories and laughter until, one by one, they drifted off to sleep in the same room.