The capital was far louder than Oliver liked.

Carriages rattled past, merchants shouted over one another, and the smell of roasted bread mixed with horse sweat and mana-infused incense. For someone who had spent most of the last month wandering through quiet forests and forgotten ruins, the noise felt like a living creature clawing at his ears.

The royal procession stopped before a fork in the road — one leading toward the palace, the other toward the city's merchant and adventurer districts.

Elisha turned toward him from her carriage window, her hood pushed back now that they were safely within the inner walls. Her golden hair gleamed under the sun. "Oliver," she said, "you should come with us. The palace will provide food, lodging, and security. You've earned it a hundred times over."

Oliver shook his head before she'd even finished. "I appreciate it, Princess, but that's not really my kind of place."

Her brow furrowed slightly. "You'll be treated well. I'll make sure of it."

"That's not the issue." He smiled faintly, rubbing the back of his neck. "It's just… palaces are full of people who say one thing and mean another. Politics isn't my cup of tea."

Isolde leaned against the carriage door, arms folded. "That's the most sensible thing you've said all week."

Elisha frowned softly, glancing at Seraphine, then back at him. "Still, it feels wrong not to keep you close. You and your party saved my life more times than I can count."

Oliver met her gaze steadily. "And you've already paid us well. Besides," — his tone lightened — "I'd rather not cause a scandal by showing up at the palace. Some noble might faint seeing adventurers walk in behind a princess."

He didn't mention the real reason — that his "otherworlder" identity was best kept as far away from royal eyes as possible.

For a moment, Elisha hesitated, her expression softening into something almost wistful. Then she nodded slowly. "Very well. But I will visit you soon. That's a promise."

Oliver smiled. "I'll hold you to it, Princess."

With a final wave, her carriage rolled away, followed by the line of battered but proud royal knights. Ronald gave Oliver a curt nod before mounting his horse and following her into the palace district.

And just like that, the street seemed strangely quiet.

Oliver, Isolde, Ariana, and Seraphine stood together amid the bustle of the capital.

Seraphine now looked entirely human. Her silver hair had been braided into a simple ponytail, her glowing runic seams hidden beneath long gloves and a traveler's cloak. If not for her flawless features, no one would suspect she was a relic of an ancient civilization.

Ariana brushed some dust off her skirt, glancing at the others. "So… what now?"

Oliver stretched, yawning loudly. "First things first — food. I've had enough roasted meat for a lifetime. I want something cooked properly for once."

Isolde chuckled softly. "Can't argue with that. The last thing you made was half-burnt, half-raw."

"Hey, at least it was edible!"

"Barely," she said, smirking.

Ariana laughed, her eyes bright. "Alright, fine. Let's find a good diner before you two start fighting again."

Seraphine tilted her head. "Diner. Definition: public establishment that provides nourishment in exchange for currency."

"...Yes," Oliver said dryly, "thank you for the dictionary definition."

"You are welcome."

Isolde muttered under her breath, "If she keeps that up, I'm engraving a silence rune on her forehead."

Despite the banter, it felt good — normal, even. For the first time in weeks, there were no monsters, no nobles, no collapsing ruins. Just the four of them walking through a crowded street, following the scent of food.

*****

They found a small restaurant tucked into a corner of the marketplace — not overly fancy, but clean and full of lively chatter. The walls were carved from polished stone, and mana lamps glowed softly along the ceiling. The smell of spice and butter hit them the moment they stepped in.

Oliver's eyes widened. "I think I'm in heaven."

They were quickly seated by a waitress — a cheerful foxkin girl with a bushy tail — who handed them menus carved from thin crystal tablets.

Oliver didn't even look. "One of everything that smells good."

Ariana rolled her eyes. "You'll go broke at this rate."

"I've been broke before," Oliver said, waving dismissively. "At least this time I'll be broke and full."

Their meals came quickly — roasted venison drizzled with mana honey, warm bread baked with butterfruit oil, and a soup that actually smelled like civilization.

For a few minutes, there was only the sound of cutlery and satisfied sighs.

"This…" Oliver said between mouthfuls, "…this is what life is about."

Ariana laughed softly. "You sound like an old man."

"After what we've been through, I feel like one."

Even Isolde, who usually maintained her composure, was quietly savoring a slice of grilled fish. "I'll admit," she said, "this is leagues above campfire cooking."

"Taste: pleasant," Seraphine said after taking a bite of bread. "Sensory experience exceeds previous nutritional intake by eighty-four percent."

Oliver smirked. "Glad to know your taste buds work, robot girl."

Seraphine blinked. "Robot…?"

"Forget I said anything."

They lingered longer than intended, enjoying the rare peace. When they finally stepped back into the street, the afternoon sun had started to dip toward gold.

Ariana stretched, smiling. "So, where to next?"

Oliver patted his stomach. "We should report the mission. It's been, what, weeks since we took that job?"

"More than that," Isolde said, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "The guild will probably think we're dead."

"Then let's go remind them we're still alive," Oliver said with a grin. "And maybe cash in a few rewards while we're at it."

Ariana nodded. "Right. The Adventurers' Guild headquarters isn't far from here. It's supposed to be the largest one in the kingdom."

"Larger than Valtaine's?"

"Ten times, at least."

Oliver smirked. "Perfect. Maybe they'll have better beer too."

And so the four of them — a worn-out hero, a teasing mage, a bright young sorceress, and an ancient living artifact — made their way through the crowded streets toward the towering spires of the Hestia Adventurers' Guild Headquarters.

*****

The Adventurers' Guild Headquarters of Hestia stood at the heart of the capital — a massive, multi-tiered structure carved from white marble and reinforced with darksteel beams. A golden crest — a sword crossed with a quill — hung proudly above the main entrance. The wide glass doors slid open as Oliver and his group stepped inside, and a wave of noise immediately washed over them.

It was a controlled chaos — hundreds of voices overlapping, laughter, shouting, and clinking armor. A place that smelled like sweat, steel, parchment, and ale.

Even Oliver, who'd been in several guild branches before, had to whistle.

"Now this… this feels like a real adventurers' hub."

The interior was enormous — polished stone floors that reflected the light from chandeliers above, several quest counters lined with attendants, and massive boards covered with mission parchments of all ranks. Balconies ringed the second and third floors, filled with adventurers drinking, arguing, or boasting about their kills.

It wasn't all chaos, though. The guild staff moved with clockwork efficiency, calling names, stamping documents, weighing rewards.

"Busy," Ariana murmured, glancing around.

Isolde, calm as ever, walked forward through the crowd. "It's the capital. Every ambitious fool who wants to make a name for themselves comes here first."

Oliver grinned. "Which makes us ambitious fools, I guess."

"Speak for yourself," Isolde shot back.

Despite their casual banter, they did attract attention — though not for Seraphine's presence. Most gazes landed squarely on Oliver… or rather, on the trio walking with him.

Three beautiful women — a tall, silver-haired beauty with striking eyes (Isolde), a charming red-haired mage with lively features (Ariana), and a quiet, graceful girl with silvery hair tied neatly back (Seraphine).

Every male adventurer within ten paces was glaring daggers at Oliver.

"Lucky bastard," someone muttered under their breath.

"Three of them? How's that fair?" another whispered.

Oliver could practically feel the envy radiating from all directions. He forced an awkward smile. "...Why do I feel like I'm about to get jumped?"

Ariana stifled a laugh. "You're imagining things."

"I'm not. Half the room wants to kill me, the other half wants to be me."

Isolde's lips curved in mild amusement. "Then walk faster before one of them grows brave enough to challenge you."

"Gee, thanks for the support," Oliver grumbled.

They finally reached the main counter — an elaborately carved desk manned by several clerks dressed in sharp uniforms. A blonde receptionist looked up from her documents, smiling professionally. "Welcome to the Adventurers' Guild Headquarters. How may I assist you today?"

Oliver leaned slightly on the counter. "We're here to submit a mission completion report. It was an S-rank escort request, filed under Valtaine branch." I placed the parchment on the table.

The clerk's quill froze mid-line. Her expression didn't change, but her eyes flickered in subtle surprise. "One moment, please."

She signaled a junior clerk, who hurried off toward a side corridor. Moments later, a tall man in a black vest and trimmed jacket emerged — older, sharp-eyed, with a guild insignia pin marking him as a senior official.

"Escort mission under the royal crest?" he asked, stopping in front of them. His gaze swept the group, assessing, but polite. "That's a rare report to hear delivered in person."

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