After Sylphia called out her name, the bunny girl who was supposed to be hiding—who had sworn to herself she wouldn't come out at all costs because the situation was far too embarrassing for someone like her—did something completely unexpected.

She came out.

Without even thinking, driven purely by instinct and years of habit, she popped her head above the desk and blurted out, "I told you not to call me that!"

Her red eyes flashed with irritation. She hated being called Bunbun—absolutely despised it. The nickname made her feel like a child, like she wasn't taken seriously.

Sylphia could see her clearly now. There was no denying it anymore. The face, the eyes, the distinctive white ears—it was definitely her childhood friend. But Sylphia also noticed something else, something that made anger surge hot and sharp through her veins. The black bracelet. The slave marking on her wrist was stark and undeniable.

She kept her calm through sheer force of will, forcing her voice to remain steady despite the fury building inside. "How are you here? And why are you a slave?"

The bunny girl realized her mistake the instant the words left her mouth. Her eyes widened in absolute horror as the implications crashed over her, and she immediately ducked back under the table, disappearing from view like she could somehow undo the last ten seconds.

"Bunbun, I've seen you just now," Sylphia said firmly, her tone brooking no argument. "Don't try to hide now. Come out and talk to me."

"Urgh!"

A grunt came from beneath the table—a sound of pure frustration mixed with mortification.

"No! I won't be coming out!" the muffled voice protested stubbornly. Another grunt followed, this one more indignant. "And don't call me Bunbun! That's not my name!"

"It is your name," Sylphia countered automatically, unable to help herself despite the seriousness of the situation. Old habits from childhood die hard.

A light scream erupted from under the table, followed by what could only be described as a small tantrum. Tiny fists banged against the underside of the wooden desk, making it shake slightly. "It is NOT my name!"

Ignoring the childish outburst, Sylphia's tone shifted completely. The playful edge vanished, replaced by something harder and infinitely more dangerous. Her voice dropped lower, carrying an edge that made several nearby adventurers unconsciously step back from her Aura alone, not words, because they can't hear anything. "Why are you working here? How did you become a slave?"

Her mind raced through memories as she spoke. Sylphia and Bunbun's clans had territories right next to each other in the demi-human lands, their borders sharing a long stretch of forest and river valley. Their fathers were practically friends, maintaining good ties between their families through trade agreements, mutual defense pacts, and regular social gatherings.

She remembered playing with Bunbun when they were children—running through forest paths together, their young legs carrying them through sun-dappled clearings. Practicing combat forms side by side under the watchful eyes of clan instructors. Sharing meals at clan gatherings, giggling over shared jokes that only they found funny.

In a way, she still considered her a friend. One of the few genuine connections from her childhood that she valued.

And seeing her out of nowhere in this random border town, wearing a slave bracelet and working as guild staff, made Sylphia's blood absolutely boil. Her killing intent leaked out despite her best efforts to contain it, the Aura spreading like invisible poison through the air. The temperature around them seemed to drop several degrees. Several weaker adventurers in the hall suddenly found reasons to be elsewhere.

Hearing Sylphia's deadly serious question, the bunny girl froze completely under the table. Even her breathing seemed to stop for a moment.

The worst has happened. Sylphia has seen the slave bracelet.

She had no choice but to come out now. There was no more hiding, no more avoiding this nightmare of a conversation. Slowly, reluctantly, like a prisoner walking to the gallows, she emerged from beneath the desk.

Her face remained down, eyes fixed firmly on the wooden floor. Her long white ears drooped pathetically, hanging completely limp against her head in a clear display of shame and utter defeat. She wasn't even attempting to make eye contact; her entire posture screamed humiliation.

Sylphia didn't wait for permission or explanation. She jumped over to the other side of the table in one fluid motion, her movements graceful and precise. The action drew shocked gasps from other guild staff members who witnessed it, but no one dared tell her off—not when they recognized the famous four-star adventurer, not when they could physically feel the dangerous Aura emanating from her like heat from a fire.

She reached out and grabbed her childhood friend's shoulders with both hands, forcing physical connection even if eye contact remained stubbornly elusive. Her grip was firm but not painful.

"What happened to you?" Sylphia demanded, her voice tight with barely controlled emotion that threatened to break through her composure.

The worst scenarios flashed through her mind in rapid succession—clan warfare that had somehow been kept secret, kidnapping by slave traders, betrayal by trusted allies. She asked the question she was almost afraid to voice, dreading the answer. "Did something happen to your clan?"

"No!" The bunny girl cut her off immediately, her voice surprisingly firm despite her obvious distress. "Nothing happened to my clan. They're fine."

Sylphia's confusion only deepened at that response. If nothing catastrophic had happened to the clan, if there was no external force that had caused this situation, then how had this come about? How did the daughter of a clan chief end up as a slave in a border town guild of such a faraway land? She asked out of genuine curiosity mixed with rapidly growing concern.

"Then how are you a slave now?" A pause, then the follow-up question that seemed obvious. "Does your father know about this?"

At the mere mention of her father, the bunny girl visibly freaked out. Her entire body went rigid, muscles tensing like she'd been struck. For the first time since emerging from under the desk, she looked up and met Sylphia's gaze directly—those red eyes now wide with panic as they stared into golden wolf-like ones.

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