The morning light was just beginning to bloom across the horizon when Ken finally entered the town, Alis still draped over his back like a warm, breathing cloak. The early sun threw long shadows across the cobblestone street, catching in the dust and giving the whole place a sleepy, rustic glow. Roosters crowed. Shopkeepers were just unlocking their doors. A butcher hung meat from hooks. The smell of rising bread drifted from the bakery, merging with the sharp tang of fresh-cut wood from a carpenter's stall. The town felt alive—not in the "danger lurking around every corner" way, but in the "someone here definitely pays taxes" way.
Alis's soft, slow breath brushed Ken's neck as she clung sleepily to him. Her weight was starting to make his legs ache, and every shift she made forced him to compensate to keep from toppling over. But he didn't complain. Or, well, he didn't complain much out loud.
"Why couldn't you be the size of a cabbage," he muttered under his breath, adjusting her again.
The System pinged smugly.
[Because that would be less amusing.]
Ken bit back a scream.
He was just about to make a break for the Guild when one of the guards called out behind him.
"Hold on!"
Ken froze. Not again.
The unbitten guard jogged over while the bitten one stayed a safe distance back, glaring suspiciously at Alis as if she were a small, deceptively cute predator.
"Before you go," the guard said, pointing down the main road, "you'll need to register with the Guild. That's standard procedure for newcomers."
Ken blinked at him. "What—now?"
"If you want to live or earn anything legally," the guard explained with a sigh, "yes. You register, get your adventurer card, then you can work, stay in inns without surcharge, buy supplies without the foreigner tax… all that."
Ken's shoulders slumped. "Is everything in this world behind a paperwork wall?"
"Yes," the guard said without hesitation. "It keeps idiots from blowing themselves up with magic." He eyed Ken. "No offense."
"Some taken," Ken muttered.
The guard continued anyway. "Guild building is straight ahead. Big sign on the front—sword and bread. Hard to miss."
Ken squinted. "Sword and bread?"
"Adventurers and artisans share the same hall," the guard said. "Keeps things organized. Or chaotic. Depends on the day."
Ken nodded weakly. "Sure. Why not. Everything in my life is confusing anyway."
He took two steps forward before the bitten guard finally spoke up again, voice still shaky.
"Is she… okay?"
Ken paused. Looked back. The guard was nursing his hand like he expected it to detach and crawl away.
"She bit me," he hissed. "She BIT me."
Ken sighed. "She was… half-asleep."
"She bit me," the guard repeated, louder, as if volume changed the meaning.
"It's her sleepy instinct," Ken explained helplessly. "She reacts… unpredictably."
"She bit me!"
"YES. WE ALL KNOW."
The guard came closer—slowly this time—and reached out as if to inspect Alis for fever.
Big mistake.
The moment his fingers brushed her shoulder, Alis reacted with the primal reflex of a barn cat denied warmth. Her head jerked, teeth bared in sleepy instinct, and she CHOMPED on his hand again.
"AAAAAAAAHHHH—!!!"
Ken yelped. "STOP TOUCHING HER!"
The guard ripped his hand away, clutching it like it had been attacked by a bear trap. "WHY IS SHE LIKE THIS?!"
Ken threw his free hand upward. "BECAUSE YOU KEEP TOUCHING HER!"
"She's dangerous!"
"She's sleepy!"
The System chimed helpfully.
[Companion Status: Mildly Territorial. Do not disturb.]
Ken glared at the glowing text. "Where was that warning ten seconds ago?!"
[It was funnier this way.]
The unbitten guard stepped in, trying to salvage the situation. "Right. Uh. Just… go register. Please. Before someone loses a limb."
Ken bobbed his head vigorously and practically jogged toward the Guild with Alis still drooling lightly onto his shoulder.
As he walked, his eyes took in more of the town.
Brick buildings mixed with wooden homes. Smoke rising from chimneys. A blacksmith hammering something at absurdly early hours. A tailor sweeping their storefront. Farmers pushing carts. A pair of mages arguing about spell ingredients. Children chasing each other with wooden swords. It wasn't fancy, but everything felt lived-in, practical, sturdy.
The kind of town where trouble didn't go looking for you—you brought it in yourself.
Which meant Ken was already off to a terrible start.
He reached the Guild just as the sun was breaking over the rooftops. It was larger than he expected—three floors tall, built from oak beams reinforced with stone. Painted banners hung from the upper windows, each showing symbols of different trades. A large wooden sign above the entrance displayed the promised insignia: a sword crossed with a loaf of bread.
Ken squinted up at it. "This world really has… priorities."
Inside, the hall was even busier than outside. Long wooden tables lined the walls where artisans sat with their tools. Adventurers lounged in armor, comparing scars. Merchants haggled with frustrated scribes. A group of bards rehearsed in the corner, terribly off-key. A woman in heavy armor was yelling at a small goblin wearing an apron.
It was chaos, but… organized chaos.
The kind of chaos that made the room thrum with energy, ambition, and a sense of "if I don't keep walking, I'm going to get stabbed by accident."
Ken stepped in, immediately swaying under Alis's weight. A few people turned to look at him—an exhausted newcomer carrying a sleeping woman on his back while mumbling to himself was, apparently, enough to draw mild curiosity.
A hulking mercenary polishing a warhammer raised an eyebrow.
A cloaked mage sipped tea without blinking.
The receptionist behind the counter froze mid-ink-dip.
Ken cleared his throat weakly. "Hello. Yes. Greetings. I'm a normal person."
A man at the bar snorted. "You don't LOOK normal."
Ken pointed a trembling finger at him. "I HEARD THAT."
He dragged himself to the counter. The receptionist, a young woman with tied-back hair and ink on her sleeves, cautiously put her quill down.
"Um… good morning. How can I help you?"
Ken tried to find the words to summarize the last hour of his life in a coherent sentence.
"I… need an ID," he said at last.
The receptionist nodded. "Alright. New registrants fill out a form and take a basic assessment. Is your… companion… alright?"
"She's asleep," Ken said, adjusting Alis slightly. "Like… deeply asleep."
"And she's… hugging you?"
"Yes."
"And drooling on your shoulder?"
"…she's affectionate."
The receptionist raised an eyebrow. "She looks very warm."
Ken's eye twitched. "It's a long story."
She hesitated, then finally said what everyone else in the building was thinking.
"Is… she really just sleeping?"
As if on cue, Alis let out a soft, contented murmur and snuggled deeper against Ken, arms tightening slightly around him.
Ken made a sound that wasn't quite human.
The mercenary across the room called out, "Wish someone looked that happy hugging ME!"
Ken wanted to evaporate.
"Can… can we please start the ID paperwork before something terrible happens?" he begged.
The receptionist nodded and pulled out a form. "Name?"
"Ken."
"Last name?"
Ken blinked and froze.
"…Uhh…"
The System chimed instantly.
[User has no last name.]
Ken glared at the ceiling. "THANK YOU."
The receptionist wrote: Ken — Unknown.
"Place of origin?"
Ken opened his mouth.
Closed it.
Stared into the void.
"…Complicated," he whispered.
The receptionist scribbled something and moved on.
"Any known skills?"
Ken braced himself and—just like always—the System struck first.
[Skills: Running away. Lying creatively. Improvised survival. Unlicensed problem solving.]
The receptionist paused. Then sighed deeply and added several lines of notes.
"Okay," she said, exhaling. "Now for the physical assessment."
Ken's stomach dropped. "Wh— physical?! But she's— I'm— she's ON me!"
"We only need a simple test," the receptionist reassured him. "Lift something heavy, dodge something thrown, or use a skill in front of us."
Ken blinked. "…I've been carrying a whole person through town."
The receptionist paused.
"…Good point," she admitted, scribbling a checkmark next to strength: adequate.
Somewhere across the hall, someone shouted, "HEY! That was my test!"
The receptionist finally reached the bottom of the paper. "Alright. Last step: your companion must verbally confirm that she knows you and intends to travel with you."
Ken froze.
"No," he whispered. "No. Nonono— she's HALF-ASLEEP. She's going to say something weird or clingy or—"
"Protocol," the receptionist said tiredly. "Sorry."
She leaned over the counter and gently tapped Alis's arm. "Miss? Could you confirm—"
Alis blinked, barely awake, her eyes heavy and unfocused. She lifted her head slightly, looked at Ken with the softest expression he'd ever seen, and murmured:
"Ken… warm…"
Then she dropped her head back onto his shoulder with a sleepy sigh.
The room fell silent.
The receptionist quietly wrote: Confirmed.
Someone at the bar whispered, "Man's living the dream."
Ken made a noise like a dying flute.
The receptionist slid him a wooden card. "Welcome to the Guild, Mister Ken Unknown. You now have legal status within the region."
Ken took it with shaking hands.
The System pinged immediately.
[Quest Progress: 20%. Housing still required.]
Ken inhaled.
Exhaled.
Then muttered through clenched teeth, "I'm going to find a house and then scream into a pillow for three hours."
The System chimed pleasantly.
[Approved.]
And with that, Ken stepped away from the counter, Alis still snuggled against him, and began the next phase of his utterly ridiculous journey:
Finding a home.