I turn in the quest items and receive the 50 silver coins in exchange. The quest only requires 15 wolf paws, and since I have over 40 of them, the clerk offered to buy the remainder in exchange for a sum of four silvers; to which I accepted.

Upon exiting the Guild, I am yet again reminded of the elephant in the room; only this elephant had gone mad and ate the ringleader, leaving the audience to stare from their seats, eyes wide open in aghast.

I need to get this blood off. The spotlight is blinding.

I wander through the streets in search of a place where I can wash up, eventually arriving in front of a bathhouse. I head inside and speak with the clerk.

According to him, for the price of two silver coins, they offer a bath and the option for our clothes to be laundered. I place two pieces from my newly acquired silver on the table.

He then hands me two keys to lock our things and informs us to leave our clothing in the assigned baskets.

Without further instruction, I walk through the nearest open door. It’s a locker room, so I find my numbered locker, and proceed to unload all of my belongings. I strip out of my clothing, expecting to see a bloody mess. I become pleasantly surprised to see that none of the blood seeped through the fabric and onto my skin. The wrapped bandages all over my body are a pristine white. Frankly speaking, why am I covered in gauze? I don’t feel pain anywhere, so these wrappings seem unnecessary; for both the adventure and the bath.

Upon taking the gauze off my chest, my breasts spill out. They are small, perhaps even smaller than an A-cup. It’s not a big deal, I was a girl in my previous life after all.

I hurry to wash up in the shower room, and then head into the bath area.

Dozens of ladies are soaking in the bath; their figures obscured by the rising steam from the water. The women are in their groups, merrily exchanging light laughter, belonging only to the fairest of them all. It makes me believe that I am at the edge of paradise, yet at the same time, unable to join them because I do not belong in their world.

I tentatively step into the closest open water.

Warm.

I sink myself deeper into the bath until my chin rests above the water.

It’s too hot.

I make my way back into the locker room so I can dry off and reapply the gauze on the same places from a fresh roll. After changing into a white robe lying in a basket, I walk through another door, entering what appears to be a living room. Clothes lay neatly folded on various tables.

Ah, that’s mine.

I couldn’t have been in the bath for more than a few minutes; it’s almost like magic how quickly my clothes have been washed and dried.

As I change out of the robe, I spy my slave in the same room.

Her eye patch is gone, and what it was hardly hiding are patches of skinless lumps. The discoloration is spread into her scalp and behind her ears. The marks on her face are ugly. Who am I to pretend to say that they’re not?

I remember the time when my mother’s skin was peeling off from a rare disease. Her skin was unbearably itchy to the point where she couldn’t sleep at night. She lost tens of pounds in a matter of weeks. She had to cover up her peeling skin, sweating under summer’s sun, irritating her skin further. Every itch and unconscious scratch served as a constant reminder that she couldn’t live a normal life anymore.

She became a broken record by repeatedly telling everyone that she wasn’t contagious; almost as if she was apologizing to everyone that she was sick. I knew those were excuses only meant to keep her from losing her family and friends who possibly feared to catch her case. She was a people person, and she felt that if she lost everyone, she would be nothing. That is the life of talentless people.

The "me" who never says more than a few words has no intention of speaking to my slave directly.

She notices my gaze and then shifts her attention to putting on her eye patch and robe. Like a flash, she’s out of my sights.

I clench my fists, but they don’t slam anywhere, only tensing safely at my sides.

Once again, I can’t do anything.

--- --- ---

For the long-anticipated meal, we are seated in a nearby pub. As we quietly eat our meal, the boisterous diners drone on with talk and gossip.

I make a happy smile while munching on my steak.

“... Can you believe how stupid he is?” a man laughs.

His two mates sitting at his table hoot at his remark.

“That’s right! My cousin’s son wants to be an adventurer. He’s eight years old; far too old to be having those fantasies. He needs to get with reality and find an apprenticeship soon, or else every other kid in this city will take all the spots,” he slams his drink on the table. “If he does become an adventurer, I bet he’ll be turning to me for money. I, an honest guard to this grand city, working day in and day out to protect the good citizens from monsters. To think that in the future I would be graciously handing out my hard-earned coin to this ragtag adventurer earning just copper coins. Ha! Me related to an adventurer? I’ll beat that boy to turn him straight even if he’s not my kid,” he chuckles shamelessly.

I finish the last bite of my steak, contemplating if I should order another one. I shake my head.

My slave tilts her head in confusion.

Alright, I could go for more quests. I need to achieve a higher rank within the Adventurer's Guild quickly, so more opportunities for exciting fun can happen. I slump in my chair, stomach full and satisfied. I have plenty of silver in hand which could last me for quite a while. And besides, I am already high in the adventurer's rank without doing anything at all. Perhaps, I can just take it easy for a week.

I mentally slap myself in the face. My mindset is all wrong. I will never have enough money.

--- --- ---

“Slay ten goblins at an underground nest in the Ruins of Yikini. The questers must bring back their hearts. Turner Bloend offers a 35 copper reward upon completion of this quest,” she reads.

“Why is this reward so little?” I question her.

“Ma’am. Quest rewards depend on the issuer of the quest. Take it or leave it?” she rubs her temples.

. .

. . .

The Sun is still up. I’d say there are maybe a few hours before nightfall. It’s just me and my slave sitting around with nothing to do.

“Auurgghh...” I groan out. The douchebag from the pub was right; being an adventurer sucks financial-wise. I look over to my companion, “Slave, do you know how to survive the city life?”

“I can sell my body,” she states a matter of factually.

A noise of displeasure escapes my throat at those stupid words. “No, you’re mine. I already said so,” I reach over to grasp at her bruised wrist.

She winces at either the memory or the pain.

“No one is allowed to touch you, except for me,” I stare into her one good eye. “Remember that now,” I say before breaking eye contact. I settle down on the ring of the fountain and lay there silently for a good many minutes. Where are those blue boxes when I need them?

“… ’Scuse me, misses. I notice your partner here has a sword. Are you adventurers?” a young man approaches.

“That I am,” I reply.

“I know this isn’t a formal quest in the books, but can you help me?” he begins.

“I’ll listen,” I shrug.

“My daughter is very sick. And she needs medicine for her sudden illness but, ... the price of medicine is higher than I could ever afford. I need adventurers to find the ingredients for me. I do not have a lot of money, but I beg of you, please help me!” he bows his head.

I could stay silent as I always do, letting the conversation fade away. But I want to change. For this time and future times, I can do something. "I'll take your quest."

“Thank you so much!” he lifts his head. “Please come to my house, and I’ll show you what the ingredients look like.”

I’m not helping because of the logic that adventurers are supposed to be heroic and whatnot. I have nothing to do, after all!

He slips into the alleyway, expecting us to follow. My slave gives me a look, but I do not see that as I jump up and chase after him.