Of course my crazy teleporting plan wasn't as simple as my friends agreeing or humoring me. Most Escape Scrolls couldn't be used in dungeons, or they were specific to a single one and brought adventurers right to the front entrance to limp outside. Teleporting directly out of a dungeon was difficult but doable, though the dungeon and its minions could be expected to actively hinder adventurers during the long, long casting time.

Teleporting into a dungeon, however... well, most might deem it impossible, not to mention inadvisable. But in my research, I had come across references to Contractors teleporting to their dungeon's rescue. Of course each Contractor was a Name with Skills, power, and resources I could only dream of, but that didn't mean their every act was likewise beyond my means. Frankly, I saw no other way forward if my access to Duni was barred, so I would just have to do my best.

Before that, I had to descend to the second floor simply to communicate, but I needed to ask Duni if it had other visitors... if there was no point trying to hide our discovery, in other words. King Rat initially balked at this, launching into a melodramatic speech on gaining passage over its dead body, when suddenly it froze and after a long moment said the Great Creator would see us now. More proof Duni's anomaly was intelligence-based: it shared the same fatal flaw of Scholars everywhere, our curiosity.

As Bessie and Tom were likeliest to be asked unfortunate questions, only Blake and Hannah went down with me. None of us enjoyed splitting the team. I reflected we wouldn't risk this if Duni ever gained stronger minions, and then that it wouldn't ever have the chance. And I was conflicted.

Rationally, it was a good thing the dungeon wouldn't gain better tools with which to kill humans, but somehow I couldn't help feeling... melancholy? Maybe it was the same illogical instinct that made us find tigers, vampires, and dragons beautiful, even knowing all three were ruthless predators that snacked on mankind.

In the case of vampires, they also had their unnatural allure, and I wondered if I was likewise unduly affected. Maybe conventional wisdom was wrong, and all dungeons were capable of enthralling victims but other newborns too dumb to try. Maybe my Empathy made me more susceptible, or maybe I was just overly self-conscious of that possibility. Maybe a month apart was a blessing in disguise, so I could shake off any external influence or recognize none existed.

After a depressingly curt conversation followed by departure from Duni, my mind was still a mess, but thankfully I had to speak to my mentor anyway. Reporting I could talk to rats via [Intermediate Universal Translation] instantly relieved a pressure I hadn't even noticed amidst all the excitement and distraction. Then I presented my theory on the dungeon's anomaly and its supporting evidence, and I had to admit to some satisfaction as he slowly came around to the idea, stating finally, "I will have to report this to the Board."

"I know," I said. At this point the dungeon was too important to leave to my Scholarly lonesome.

"This does not preclude you from continuing your independent research," he reminded me.

"The Board won't report this to Grimmark?" At least Duni had confirmed the lack of other visitors before we left.

"I believe they would prefer to keep such information within the guild." He hesitated before adding, "Moreover, the local government cannot be trusted not to immediately destroy the dungeon."

"Then would the Board protect Dun... the dungeon?"

"No," he said. "Scholars are strictly neutral. We may not be willing to hasten an interesting dungeon's destruction before it even reaches Developing, but neither will we stop Grimmark from doing so. And furthermore... a super-intelligent dungeon must be classified as a serious threat, potentially on a world-ending scale."

"Isn't that premature?" I said, aghast. I knew my friends and I had already agreed Duni was dangerous, but somehow Senior Rubrik's words made it seem both more terrible and real.

"Rowena, I implore you not to anthropomorphize, or deities forbid, romanticize a dungeon."

I blushed. "I'm not..." But my words trailed away under his stern expression. Hadn't I just considered my irrational attachment? I looked down and said, "I understand."

And I did, though I still felt conflicted. Well, I had an entire month to Meditate and reflect.

The next morning I woke to another Priority Message from the Scholar's Board, this time by my bedside. Considering the enormity of my discovery, I'd almost hoped for a rank advancement (ha), but the reward of an SES and instruction for strict secrecy from hereon were both well-appreciated. To think, three months ago I hadn't expected to ever have the option of using a Skill Book myself.

Well, I already knew what I would do with this one. Since I'd earned the slip myself, it was my first that was transferable, and I promptly offered it to Team Multi-Movers. "There's only one, though, and you have to tell me whose name to list for the gift-recipient."

"Oh, no, we can't take that from you," Hannah said, though she was guiltily tempted. "You've earned it."

"It's the least I can do in return for all your help in Duni every night. Anyway, I still have the Books for [Magic Hand] and [Mind Over Matter], not to mention my free access to [Enhanced Scribe]." When they still hesitated, I couldn't help feeling a bit exasperated. Was this similar to their insistence everybody should work for money? But how was it any different from my freely taught spells or Skill advice? I didn't know if I was missing the logic or there was none. "The SES doesn't have an expiration," I said finally, "So think on it."

"We will, thanks," Bessie said. "And actually, heads up we're planning on picking up more quests, so we might not be around as much for a while."

"Wait," I said, "One more thing. I... I think I've done something awful, and it's been weighing on me." My cheeks burned. I lowered my face in shame and confessed: "I didn't tell my mentor my teleportation plans."

Yes, though I had every opportunity last night, I'd willfully chosen not to raise the subject when I knew he'd disapprove. He had been nothing but kind and helpful towards me, wise and generous as a father, and how had I shown my gratitude? Moreover, if I knew I couldn't win him over with logic... no, that I would likely lose to him in a logical argument, didn't that mean I recognized I was acting foolishly?

"Rena, it's completely normal not to tell your mentor everything," Hannah said.

"Actually, what's odder is that you normally do," Tom said.

I wasn't sure I liked this interpretation of normal and odd. "But why wouldn't I consult him when he is a mature responsible adult whose opinion I highly value?"

My friends shifted uncomfortably, glancing at each other. "Sometimes you're too nice for your own good," Bessie said with a sigh. "You know I send letters home? Well, I always sugarcoat my adventure stories."

I frowned, considering this, when Hannah burst out: "Look, I love my parents lots, but that doesn't mean I want them all up in my business! It's enough already that I'm still living with them. But you met my mom, you know how she nags. Anyway, if I told her everything all the time, she'd probably stay up nights worrying."

They both raised some good points. Most importantly, I felt less selfish, ungrateful, and unreasonable when I considered my mentor's likely reaction had I revealed all. He would needlessly worry for me when I had no idea whether what I wanted was possible, never mind whether I could create such a ridiculously difficult Scroll. And in fact, I had not decided upon going through with my plans even then. I simply wanted the choice.

Even without my nocturnal visits to the dungeon, I was almost too busy to miss it. I kept up my running, using my Nomalian experience as fuel for motivation, though the first time outside Duni felt like I'd put down an amazing book only to discover the sequel was written by a rank amateur. I also continued suffering through [Magic Hand], though I'd at least learned to stop the nauseating sensation of falling end over end by letting my mind drift away, ignoring the ungainly happenings of the body, and proceeding with extreme care, ergo, slowness, from there. On the other hand, I had a much smoother time progressing with [Enhanced Scribe], which Learned Westwick had me continuing to study on my own time, though the Book's library seemed to grow in size even as I explored. And finally, I was devouring everything I could on casting higher-tier teleportation spells and creating reusable Scrolls. Thankfully, I was somewhat confident in my abilities in the former and familiar with the latter, but I still stacked my table high with relevant literature and resumed my usual reading habits.

Then as my mentor had predicted, Senior Okim's [Magic Hand] became unavailable. I would have to wait until he repaired the damages. At least this freed up some more time?

I was quite curious how an actual Copyist Scholar performed his trade, and I soon had the opportunity. My next lesson in Scribe was a lesson in humility. Yes, I'd rationally expected it, but observing Learned Westwick at work truly brought home how laughable my own attempt had been. Both his hands were constantly in motion, the one with ink and brush, the other plucking, molding, and weaving layers of mana like a conductor directing his orchestra. Thanks to my mana sensitivity coupled with [Advanced Appraisal], I was able to admire not only how he crafted each individual rune, precisely sculpting it with his mana and [Intermediate Scribe], but also how each rune took on new meaning within the whole, a single piece moved with deliberation on a strategy board. No wonder true masters of the craft devoted a lifetime to Books and still were always learning.

Unable to resist, I asked while he was resting, "How did you learn to do that so beautifully?"

He only smiled, tinged with a trace of sadness. "Everybody has their own Path," he said. "I don't believe knowing mine would help you."

"All right," I said, understanding enough to change the subject. "Um... you previously mentioned introducing me to your mentor? If you don't mind, I would like to continue our lessons and also learn how to make reusable Scrolls."

His lips quirked. "Better you than me."

"Sorry, what?"

"Nothing, nothing." He laughed. "I just have a feeling she'll like you."

With that... recommendation? I decided to start on a multi-use Scroll of Mana Shield for practice. I did my best not to think of the waste, using such fine materials to cast a Tier-1 spell albeit more than once; my competence or lack thereof would determine the exact number.

I was thus occupied when I felt the familiar presence enter my sanctum. Perhaps I only noticed from the ripple effect as different visitors caught sight of her, but then her identity was unmistakable. Rather than let her wander around longer presumably in search of me, I hurried out.

One hand on her hip, Georgina Lauren stood and strutted in a short fit-and-flare dress -- yes, my mental encyclopedia now included fashion terminology -- revealing long legs ending in platform heels, like she was modeling on a catwalk rather than in the foyer of a library. Her scarlet hair shone subtly under the bright lights. I thought she fit in nicely with some of the colorful seating and covers and particularly the fashion magazines, but from the reaction of others staring at her, you'd have thought someone's prize poodle had stepped into a pet fighting tournament.

When she saw me, she felt triumphant and unsurprised, so I supposed she'd deliberately made her entrance in such a way to summon me. She didn't bother lowering her voice, either: "Shall we walk and talk?"

A few minutes later, I'd packed my things and we set out, but we hadn't made it one block when she said, "Put these on," and presented me with... broken handcuffs? No, upon closer Appraisal, the chain link was broken but the cuffs still working suppressors, and they looked like they'd been modified recently. Curious, I snapped one on around my left wrist, where it automatically adjusted itself to fit. It also started to actively drain my mana, though the process was supremely slow and inefficient. I saw Georgina staring at me, obviously not expecting my easy compliance. "Just like that?"

"How will I imbue mana into threads with these on?"

"Slowly and carefully," she drawled. "Be warned, they're a rough patch job. Eating your mana is a carryover from their previous purpose. Most importantly, assuming you don't test and break them, they should neutralize your mental Skills."

All right, I had to try this. I closed the remaining cuff around my right wrist.

Instantly, I felt as though I’d just been draped in a sound-muffling cloak. I blinked and stared around, half-incredulous, seeing the streets full of people... and yet I couldn't sense any of them. The feeling was disturbing, relieving, constraining, liberating... but mostly, it was isolating. I'd always known myself as part of a sea of humanity, no, of life. Even those I'd never met, whose faces I'd never seen, voices I'd never heard, could twinkle in my awareness, and so I was never truly alone.

But all that was gone now. If I closed my eyes, I could be the last person alive in the world.

"Are you all right?" I blinked back to Georgina, whose lips were slightly pursed in... concern? Frustration? I had no idea. No, knowing her, she was probably feeling four things at once and all pulling in opposite directions.

Which, come to think of it, might not be too far off from how I felt. "Just surprised," I answered her, and we resumed walking.

"So," she said, "They work on your [Advanced Empathy]?" I nodded absently, figuring the Smiths must have told her, when she stopped. "You really...? How can you possibly have two Advanced Skills at your age? Are you secretly an immortal?" She seemed to realize how preposterous this idea was and amended, "An immortal's discarded lovechild?"

"What? No!" Though I couldn't sense her, she definitely sounded more accusing than impressed, and I offered, "It was just luck, all right? Both good and bad. You know what they say, 'fortune's fools make grander tools.'" For one, who knew if I'd ever have attained [Advanced Empathy] without Duni.

She continued to skewer me with her eyes. "Do you happen to have any other Skills at Intermediate or higher?"

"Oh, no," I tried to reassure her. "I'm a, um, mostly two-trick pony."

"No? What about [Intermediate Meditation]?"

My shoulders slumped. "Unfortunately not."

Finally, she started moving again, seemingly ignoring how everybody we passed stared at her. "You want your mage robe that badly, huh? If you're willing to roll over for me so meekly."

Whoops, I'd forgotten my [Intermediate Universal Translation], but well, it was hardly her business. "I wanted a method to suppress my Empathy anyway."

"Yes, I suppose," she said, "It can't be pleasant always knowing exactly how others feel towards you. I think people all play different parts at different times, some more deliberately than others, and some need their masks more. That's how we stay civilized, you know?"

I eyed her sideways. "Is that why you reacted so strongly to discovering my Empathy?"

"No," she said sharply. "I simply won't allow any invasion of my privacy. I'm willing to follow through on our deal since I promised, and so long as you wear those cuffs, but that doesn't mean I've forgiven you."

I thought there was more she wasn't saying, but even without my Empathy, her body language screamed to leave it alone. Also, hypocritical much? When she'd practically demanded to know my private Skills. Then in one of her characteristic mood shifts, her seriousness melted away into mischief. "Guess who I visited recently?"

I guessed, "The tinker?"

She pouted. "No fun. Well, actually, he was a lot of fun... and profit..."

I'd finished detailing to her my three special requests, particularly the one for [Mind Over Matter], by the time we reached our destination. This was her workplace, which doubled as her home. Unfortunately, we soon found the cuffs made fine mana manipulation just about impossible, like somebody was constantly tugging on the other end of the thread while we were trying to sew. Georgina grudgingly removed the cuffs just for the duration when we spooled our manas.

After, I watched her sew until determining I was too inexperienced to learn in such a way and also less interested than in a Book. Instead, I read to pass the time while recovering my mana, which, while slowed by the cuffs, still allowed me to keep pace with Georgina, who was nonstop burning mana whether threading or sewing.

When she took her own break, I seized my chance and turned to her with bright eyes and a hopeful smile, holding up my wrists. "Can I borrow these?"

For some reason she flushed, staring at me, the cuffs, and back for a moment before giving herself a little head shake. "Why? So you can experiment on slipping out of them?"

"What?" And here I thought we'd been making progress. But then I was distracted: "Wait, that's possible without a Skill? Anyway, no, of course not, I want to use them!"

She stared at me intently. "Use them how?"

She was clearly waiting -- hoping? -- for something in particular, so thinking quickly, I answered in a way calculated to please her: "You know we spoke earlier of how I'm seeking methods to manage my Empathy. It can all be too overwhelming. So, no matter how it makes me uncomfortable... I can sometimes appreciate these sorts of bindings."

"My." She brought her hand to her mouth, looking shocked and delighted. "No wonder you gave me those vibes... Wait, but these are broken? What restraints do you normally use?"

"Um. I was hoping you could help me with that?"

"Oh, can I! I knew nobody could be that innocent!"

I hesitated, confused, but I'd have to be blind not to see how her body language had changed, leaning forward interestedly. Still, I tried clarifying, "I'm not an adventurer or anything." She laughed like I was telling a joke. "Really, I know I'm inexperienced and have just started training. But I want to learn!"

"Good, enthusiasm is the most important part." I nodded along. "May I ask who your lucky partner is?"

"You mean my instructor?"

"Wow, you have started role play already?"

That was a strange way to refer to it, but I nodded again. "Practice before the real thing is important, as you said. I wouldn't want to be unprepared and dominated in real life. I just... hope I don't embarrass myself once more."

"What happened?" She seemed genuinely concerned, putting her hand over mine.

I shuddered in remembrance. "That first time was too intense. And plain painful."

"What?" Her face turned thunderous. "Who is your instructor?"

"No, it was my fault, really," I said hastily.

"You forgot to use your safe word? Still--"

"No, I left pretty much right away." She stared at me in disbelief and I added, "It was too difficult with my Empathy. But now I know I can do better."

She nodded slowly. "I'm glad you've found a way to deal with your Empathy and too many overwhelming emotions, but... do you feel safe?"

"Not really, no? I think experiencing danger in a controlled environment is the whole point, though. I mean, I'm sure the instructor wouldn't let things get too out of hand." I sighed. "Unfortunately, I just, I need it."

She choked. "Wow, that's..." She muttered something under her breath that sounded like, "Really in the scene," then continued louder: "Deities, you must be popular with your pure maidenly image."

I stared at her. "Um, isn't our mind the important part? And lack of incompatibilities?"

"Sweet, sweet child. No, suppose I can't consider you a child anymore. Wait, how old is your instructor?"

"Old?" I reassured her, and when this seemed to have the opposite effect, "Isn't more experience better?"

She scowled. "Did your instructor introduce you to the culture?"

"No, all my friends did." She only looked more concerned. "And their guild. The classes are always quite large--"

"Wait, hold on, you're poly?" I stared at her blankly. For once it was my turn to be confused by vocabulary. "You know," she said, "With more than only your instructor?"

"Um, private lessons cost more?"

"Cost? You're paying?" She paused and her gaze went flat. "Just to be clear, what are we talking about?"

"The class on [Mental Resistance]?" I'd explained it to her on the walk over, so why was this in question?

"Oh, yes. Of course. That class." Georgina's voice sounded strangled. "What was I thinking?"

"Yes, what else could we mean?"

"Excuse me." She abruptly stood. "I need to go... scream in the ladies' room for a minute."

I stared after her departing back. Her constant flush, clogged throat, peculiar behavior... more peculiar, rather. Oh no, was she perhaps ill? I hoped I wasn't taking advantage of her moment of weakness by renewing our agreement at this time.

When she returned, she'd apparently also realized she should rest and recover, as she none-too-politely showed me out. She still looked heated; when I expressed my hopes she'd soon feel better, she all but growled at me, slamming the door in my face.

Most peculiar. I didn't dare remove the cuffs until I'd put several blocks between us. Thankfully, she let me keep them for my classes -- more like she threw the keys in my direction -- and putting the whole incident behind me, I joined one that same night.

How strange to walk through a crowded guildhall -- into a classroom likewise full of people -- and not feel anything from anyone! Reading a book helped me calm my nerves before the class proper started, and so I was deep in peaceful Meditation when the Mindreaver was brought in.

This time I was able to bear its presence. Just... ugh. My head hurt, my stomach roiled, I was battered by foreign murderous feelings -- I was sure they were foreign, since I'd never felt so murderous in my life -- and I was supposed to somehow Meditate through this?

I peered up toward the source of my pain, and oh... the Mindreaver wasn't quite what I'd expected. The illustration I'd seen had resembled a ghoul's upper half and genie's hazy bottom in smudged dark watercolors. Well, this one was also a wispy humanoid, but its skin was blue rather than gray, its shroud more artistic smoke trails than a malevolent cloak of darkness, its body small and frail rather than gaunt and predatory, and its eyes, rather than simply soulless black pits, were surrounded by little wrinkles with black stripes running underneath like tear tracks. On the whole, it appeared more pitiful than monstrous.

Of course, I knew it was responsible for my worsening headache, which it used in a swarm to incapacitate victims before approaching and draining their life energy with its shroud, and finally, eating the leftover husk with its razor teeth. No, instead of feeling sorry for the creature currently tormenting me, perhaps I should be trying to alleviate my own agony, somehow.

Swallowing, I aggressively circulated my mana, trying in vain to sink back into a Meditative trance.

This went on for a whole hour that felt much longer, and honestly, if I'd felt more mobile I would probably have quit the class early again. Hadn't Georgina said something about a safe word? As it was, the instructor had no sooner led the monster away than I rushed towards freedom and fresh air. Unfortunately, I had to wait out the bottlenecked crowd only to be stopped midway to the front entrance by a familiar-looking receptionist. Right, she was the one I'd seen last time I'd taken this class. The memory did not help the churning in my stomach, and I snapped somewhat rudely, "Yes?"

"Please come with me," she said, waving me to follow her back toward the classrooms, which at the moment felt unacceptable.

I stood my ground. "No, what is this about? Excuse me, but I need to leave."

"Rena, this is important!"

I was suddenly aware of Bessie standing to the side. For a moment, I was shocked I hadn't noticed her, but then I remembered I couldn't sense her or anyone else for that matter. On the heels of that realization came guilt. Cut off from my Empathy, was I immediately turning into a terrible person? No, more importantly, I felt on the verge of throwing up; even just thinking that sent another round of nausea washing over me. But then I saw how Bessie was vibrating in place, clearly bursting to say something but holding back, and cold dread settled on top of my other discomforts.

They must have learned about Duni. That was the only possible explanation I could think of for singling me out like this.

I could do nothing but follow along glumly as the receptionist led us to an empty room. "Will you draw a circle for Erasure?"

The basic cantrip? I glanced to Bessie for a clue, but she just bounced on her heels, staring back at me. What, were they offering us a reprieve if we proved cooperative enough? Would they let us keep visiting Duni? I suppressed such unreliable hopes and did as asked, which didn't take long at all, maybe twenty seconds, the simple circle only a foot and half in diameter.

"Are you finished?" At my nod, the receptionist stepped forward into the circle and cast: "Erasure."

She peered at a notebook she was holding, the page's contents of which she'd presumably just erased. Seeming satisfied, she said, "And can you repair the circle?"

"If you just want to erase some pages, I can do that with [Scribe]."

"No, thank you. The circle?"

"[Scribe]," I obliged, resisting the urge to give her a dirty look.

She cast again and nodded, making some sort of note, only to say: "A circle for Directed Light, if you please?"

"Why?" I said. "This room's already lit. Or a basic Light works just as well!"

"Yes, I know. If you'll draw the circle."

She didn't ask if I pleased this time, and seeing no help from Bessie, I figured taking two minutes on a three foot diameter circle was the lesser of two evils. Once again, she cast, had me repair the circle, and cast again. I simply waited for the ordeal to be over, closing my eyes and grimacing as a wave of sickness rolled over me.

"Rena, are you all right?" Bessie's voice came, sounding very far away without an accompanying burst of emotion.

"Are we done? What is this for?" I asked.

"Nope, one last spell and then everything will be explained. It'll be worth it, I promise."

One last...? "Can you draw a circle for Ice Spear?"

I opened my eyes and glared. The receptionist only leveled me with a challenging look in return. As much as I didn't want to play right into her hands, it was just insulting that she would think me incapable of casting a standard Tier-2 spell. More importantly, I was curious. I trusted this exercise wasn't a complete waste of time thanks to Bessie, but I had no idea what else it could be.

Time dragged on as I drew the six foot diameter runic circle, sometimes pausing to suppress the urge to gag, but finally I'd done it. I took the few minutes she would need to cast with the circle to escape to the washroom, where I promptly rushed to the first sink and threw up.

How many more such ordeals would I have to suffer through before I gained [Mental Resistance]? I couldn't help my bitter thoughts as I washed out my mouth and then the sink. If they knew of Duni... Underneath the crushing weight of disappointment, part of me shamefully felt relieved, like the sweet smell of rot over the corpse of my dreams. The future was out of my hands, and there was a morbid sort of peace in that. Come what may.

To my pleasant surprise, Bessie was waiting outside with a refresher gum. By the time we'd walked back to the classroom, I'd stopped feeling like I had just puked, though I kept chewing for the salutary effect on my mood. I didn't even mind when the receptionist asked me to repair the circle once more and nobly resisted the urge to blow a bubble at her.

"I'm surprised you were able to concentrate enough to make on-the-spot calculations," she observed when she was finally -- hopefully -- finished. "You must know these runes like the back of your hand."

"Oh, no." I waved said hand. "I have [Universal Translation], which helps a good deal."

Runes were essentially another language, after all, and arguably the most universal, speaking to the mana interwoven in the very fabric of reality. Normally I tried not to lean on the Skill, limiting its use to checking my work, since it was like guesstimating what sounded right in a native tongue rather than actually studying or applying learned vocabulary, grammar, and articulation.

But today I'd shamelessly taken shortcuts. I thought I'd have managed the runes in a reasonable time without, probably, but I couldn't deny my advantages. It was almost cheating, since not everybody had such a brilliant and resourceful grandmother to give them a giant leg up.

"I see." But she kept peering at me thoughtfully. "Well, the guild would like to hire you as an instructor." I almost inhaled my gum. She politely waited out my coughing fit before continuing: "Normally you have to be Gold-Ranked and commit to certain hours, but we'll register you as a special guest instructor to bypass all that. We meant to offer this after your mission in Nomalia -- apparently your performance was rated favorably? -- but you haven't come to the Guildhall since," she noted somewhat critically.

I was so relieved this had nothing to do with Duni I could've accepted on the spot... no, I wasn't that irresponsible. "I don't think I'm qualified as a teaching instructor?"

"Ah, officially you will be tasked only to create casting circles, not to teach runes. But I imagine your popularity will improve if you are willing to answer questions, offer advice, that sort of thing."

"Um," I said and tried not to feel like a Mercenary as I asked, "How much are you offering?"

"We will charge guilders on a sliding scale depending on the spell tier," she said, "And then split the proceeds with you evenly. Expect to work around two hours per day for one to five silver."

That sounded pretty reasonable? Not a dream job, but not an automatic rejection for once, either? I would have to consult with my mentor first, of course.

"See, don't you just love quests?" Bessie said, and now I could tell she'd been barely restraining her excitement this whole time. "Despite some teensy delays, we still rallied adventurers, rescued villagers, faced an Execu...um, Mercenaries..." She stumbled but soon regained her equilibrium, beaming and spreading her arms. "And now here's your reward! A steady, paying job!"

And as though she'd just delivered the punchline to a favorite joke, she burst into self-amused giggles.