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For the first time since Ryan had started talking to her—well, more accurately, talking at her, since she had ignored him almost the entire time—the black‑hooded woman finally turned to face him. Fully.
The sudden movement made his breath hitch.
Even though half of her face was concealed beneath a veil, Ryan still felt his pulse quicken. The hood framed her features, and her long crimson hair spilled down in loose strands, but it was her eyes that rooted him to the spot.
Her mismatched eyes—one crimson, one lilac—glimmered like sharpened gemstones.
Cold. Clear. Dangerously beautiful.
He felt as though she could freeze him on the spot if she wished.
Oh my god…
Even though only her eyes are visible, she looks ethereal—like something divine decided to descend in front of me! Why are my cheeks warm? Why is my heart—are you kidding me?!
Before he could regain control of his imagination, she crossed her arms and spoke.
"The mission. What do you think?"
Her tone was flat—emotionless. Not impatient, not curious… just straight to the point, cutting straight through the air like a blade.
Ryan blinked dumbly at her.
"…Huh?"
She raised an eyebrow, tilting her head slightly. Then—shockingly—she let out a soft chuckle. It was faint, barely audible, but undeniably there. The sound snapped Ryan out of his daze.
Ah?! Did she… laugh?! Wait—focus, Ryan! She's asking you something!
He darted his eyes back to the mission board, forcing his brain to restart as he looked over the leaflets she was examining earlier. One in particular caught his attention—something about its vague description tugged at him.
He frowned down at the parchment.
What kind of mission description is this? It's too vague to even understand what we're dealing with…
He felt her gaze—sharp, cold, piercing enough to burn through his skull—pressing against him. He straightened violently, mind scrambling.
"A‑Ah… actually, I‑I'm not sure," he stammered. "The information looks fine at first, but something about it feels… off? Like it's too vague. Almost suspicious."
His voice cracked.
His words tripped.
And his face burned.
He wanted to bury himself.
Why the heck am I stuttering like a shy maiden?! I was so confident earlier, and now—this?!
While Ryan spiraled internally, she simply watched him. Her gaze was unreadable, a cold sheen reflecting in both eyes. For a moment, a glint of something—curiosity? amusement?—sparked there, but vanished as quickly as it came.
She blinked slowly, expression flattening again into her usual indifference.
Without a word, she turned back to the board and plucked the mission leaflet she'd been staring at earlier. It was the same vague one Ryan had commented on.
He didn't realize it, but she had been testing him.
Her thoughts had lined up with his: the mission was indeed odd—poorly written, lacking detail, suspicious in timing. The rank was even left blank, an unusual and concerning sign.
She tucked the leaflet between two fingers and walked away.
Ryan panicked.
"W‑wait! Hey—don't just leave without saying anything!"
She did not respond.
Of course she didn't.
She walked straight toward the reception area without calling him, without glancing back, without giving him even the courtesy of a signal.
Ryan rushed after her like a startled duckling.
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Inside the reception hall, there were supposed to be three receptionists on duty. But at the moment, only one remained—a young woman with short rose‑colored hair and warm chestnut eyes.
Her eyes brightened immediately upon seeing the black‑hooded woman.
"Another mission already? You just returned from the last one this morning," she said with a smile—one tinted with a mix of respect and familiarity.
The hooded woman placed the mission leaflet on the counter.
"Further information," she said in her usual clipped tone.
The receptionist nodded, used to the brevity.
She left the bookshelf she had been organizing and stepped closer, picking up the leaflet. Her expression shifted immediately when she noticed the rank field.
"…Undetermined?"
She scanned the description, brows furrowed as she read through the vague notes.
"This is… unusual."
The hooded woman offered nothing except a silent stare.
After reading the leaflet thoroughly, the receptionist's face turned serious.
"It's about Fordel Village," she said softly.
The hooded woman responded only with a slow nod—as if confirming she expected this.
"I remember seeing something related to this while reorganizing the archives earlier," the receptionist continued. "Let me retrieve the file."
As she turned to leave, she froze.
There was someone standing behind the hooded woman.
Someone unfamiliar.
Someone she had never seen in the guild before.
Ryan stiffened as she addressed him.
"Excuse me… may I know this gentleman's name?"
Ryan inhaled, ready to introduce himself properly—
And once again, the hooded woman beat him to it.
"New. Going on a mission with him. Unfamiliar and troublesome."
Ryan felt a dagger pierce straight through his dignity.
Alright. I get it. I'm troublesome. But can you please stop repeating it?!
He forced a painfully awkward grin.
The receptionist blinked in shock.
Not because of the words.
But because of what they implied.
She had confirmed he was joining her.
The black‑hooded woman—who never, not once, took a companion—had accepted someone new.
The receptionist barely composed her expression before walking away.
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As she disappeared into the archive room, Ryan let out the breath he'd been holding.
He glanced at the hooded woman's back.
He didn't know why he followed her.
He didn't know why he kept trying.
He didn't know why he endured the coldness, the clipped words, the way she ignored him half the time.
But he did know one thing:
There was something about her he couldn't place.
Something that pulled him forward.
Something that made him want to keep watching her, observing her, learning who she was beneath the hood and veil.
Even if she found him "troublesome."
Well… guess I'm stuck to her like glue now, he sighed internally.
And honestly… I don't mind.
The receptionist, on the other hand, had long grown accustomed to the black hooded woman's unusual mannerisms—her clipped speech, her calm, cold demeanor, and her complete disinterest in unnecessary exchanges. Anyone who had ever interacted with her learned quickly that she was not someone who spoke unless absolutely needed.
So, when the woman's blunt introduction of Ryan came out earlier, the receptionist didn't react with shock.
But the rest of what followed?
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