"Oh no, it's going to rain. I have to get to work."
Hestia gave a few quick instructions before hurrying toward North Main Street.
"I need to head to the Dungeon too."
Bell walked off in the opposite direction.
Once the two were gone, Miach looked up at the darkening sky and asked quietly, "Other than that boy just now, have you sold any of the diluted potions to anyone else?"
Naaza lowered her head. "No."
Miach let out a soft sigh. "You don't need to feel guilty about the Familia's debt. It was my decision. At our current pace, it's fine to repay it slowly."
"But…" Naaza began to argue, then saw the faint sorrow in the god's expression and stopped. "I understand, Miach-sama."
Miach's Familia was on the brink of collapse. Naaza thought of the enormous medical bills she once owed, guilt pressing heavily on her heart. Her pity for the white-haired boy came from seeing herself reflected in him.
If Bell truly had no talent, as people said, then one day he would die in the Dungeon. If he was lucky, he might barely make it back to the surface, only to be left with wounds beyond healing and medical debts he could never repay.
The kind-hearted Goddess Hestia would never abandon him. Even if it meant forcing herself to take on more work, she would share that suffering with him.
To Naaza, this supposed story of companionship didn't seem enviable at all—only cold and cruel. Like the drizzling rain, it only deepened the chill.
"I should get back and make new potions. I'll leave things here to you."
Miach's voice had returned to its usual calm. Since taking on debt, one by one, his Familia members had left—until only Naaza remained.
Miach himself had become more diligent than ever. Though it was in his nature to work hard, the sight of him tirelessly brewing potions day and night lingered in Naaza's mind.
"Yes, Miach-sama. I won't make the same mistake again."
As she watched the god walk away, a quiet emptiness filled her chest. The rain began to fall harder as several figures approached.
...
Inside the Guild Hall, Eina looked weary, faint dark circles under her eyes.
"Rain this early in the morning? That's not a good sign."
Her face was dull and tired, but when she spotted the white-haired boy, her expression brightened.
"Bell, are you heading to the Dungeon again today?"
"Yes. Could you record it for me?"
Entering the Dungeon was every adventurer's right. Normally, as long as the Guild hadn't restricted entry, anyone could go in freely without registering. But Eina had added an unwritten rule for the safety of new adventurers.
If something happened, she could quickly arrange a rescue request to senior adventurers.
"Huh? You're already going down to the third floor? Isn't that a bit too soon?"
Eina shot up in surprise, then realized she'd raised her voice and sat back down, embarrassed.
"It's just an estimate."
Bell didn't mention the unease in his chest. The appearance of mutated goblins made this choice a dangerous one—but if he wanted to keep moving forward, there was no other option.
"You didn't catch a cold in the rain, did you?"
Eina stood again, touching Bell's forehead. "No fever… are you kidding me? Honestly, I'm starting to get confused."
"Don't worry. I'll make it back safely."
"Alright then, just remember…"
"Adventurers shouldn't take risks—I already know, Eina-san."
Bell cut her off with a small smile.
"Hmm… still, be careful. The goblins on the upper floors have been acting strangely lately."
Eina flipped through her notes quickly. "Oh, and about the healing potions—there've been more complaints about low-quality ones recently. Be cautious when you're stocking up."
"Low-quality potions… you mean the watered-down kind?"
Bell frowned, uneasy. From what he knew of the Chienthrope girl, Naaza would never mass-produce something like that.
"No, it's a potion that's completely ineffective—looks perfectly normal, but tastes a bit off," Eina recalled the victim's description.
Someone actually dared to sell potions with zero healing effect. For adventurers who relied on them for survival, that could practically be considered murder.
"Didn't catch the culprit?"
"No. There were just too many complaints, and it was hard to tell which ones were real. With Monsterphilia and other matters to handle, we've been completely overwhelmed."
As if to echo Eina's complaint, her human colleague at the next desk groaned miserably and slumped face-first onto the table.
That exhausted look reminded Bell of Heith, tears welling up in her eyes. Thinking about it, he realized he still knew almost nothing about that adorable young healer. He should find a chance to ask how she's been doing.
Bell made a note of it in his heart.
Unaware of Bell's thoughts, Eina went on, "Technically, I shouldn't be telling you this—but I suppose it's fine with Bell."
She pulled out a stack of documents. "The clerk at Blue Pharmacy mentioned that this ineffective potion looks a lot like the addictive ones she's seen before."
"Naaza?" Bell said her name.
"You know her? That makes things easier. Naaza-san suspects that someone is using the guise of selling recovery potions to distribute other illicit substances. I plan to gather enough evidence before reporting it to the Guild's higher-ups."
Eina was organizing her papers when she looked up and saw the boy already sprinting toward the door.
"Huh? Bell? Honestly, can't you at least let people finish talking…"
Her friend Misha, having seen everything, chuckled. "Hey, hey, you were so busy talking business you forgot to apologize again!"
Eina sighed, recalling how she had tried to persuade Bell to give up being an adventurer.
"The timing just wasn't right to bring that up," she muttered.
"Wasn't right? You two were practically glued together, weren't you?"
Eina, unusually flustered, knocked over her cup of water. "Th-that was only because I thought he had a fever, so…"
"Ah~ no need to explain," Misha said with a teasing grin, covering her mouth before suddenly pausing. "Wait, the direction that white-haired boy ran off in… wasn't that away from the Dungeon?"
...
Rain fell steadily on the streets, forming countless ripples.
Naaza vaguely remembered—the day she was injured had been just as cold and rainy as this.
Three middle-aged men entered the shop. Their clothes were plain, their appearances rough and wild.
"Welcome. What can I get you?"
The scarred man leading the group pulled out a small potion bottle. "This is what my friend bought from you a few days ago. Take a look for yourself."
Naaza frowned and took the potion. Aside from its sky-blue color, it looked nothing like a proper potion. It was clearly a mix of cheap, mismatched ingredients crudely thrown together.
"This store has never sold anything like this," Naaza said coolly.
The fake potion matched the description of the one the Guild staff had inquired about earlier. These men were clearly here to stir up trouble.
"Huh? So you're saying I'm falsely accusing you?" The scarred man slammed his fist onto the table, his tone dripping with arrogance.
"I'm merely stating the facts," Naaza replied evenly.
"Tch. Figures—a Familia drowning in debt would stoop to this kind of vile business."
"What did you just say?"
Ignoring her question, the scarred man gave a signal to the two men beside him.
Clatter.
Several potion bottles were knocked to the floor.
"What are you doing?! Stop right now!" Naaza shouted, drawing a small knife she kept for self-defense.
Clatter...
The men didn't stop. Bottles shattered one after another, and colorful liquids spread across the floor like blood, mixing with the rainwater seeping in from outside.
"I warned you!" Naaza swung her knife forward, pointing it sharply at the culprits.
Rainwater pooled beneath the eaves, forming a thin, shimmering curtain.
The dagger drew closer. Facing the Chienthrope girl's fury, the scarred man smirked slyly.
Heh. Took the bait.