The next day, the guild hall was loud enough to feel like a living creature.

  It wasn’t just noise. It was a layered, physical thing—boots grinding grit into stone, chair legs scraping, tankards clinking, coin trays slapping down on counters. Voices rose and fell in waves that carried laughter, arguments, negotiation, and the casual bravado of people who’d learned to treat danger like a job.

  Heat hung in the air from packed bodies and the tavern corner’s cheap ale. Roasted meat drifted through the crowd in fat, salty pulses. A chalkboard near the quest desk had fresh writing smeared at the edges where someone had erased older listings in a hurry, leaving white ghosts of past jobs behind.

  Yu stood in the middle of it, feeling like he’d stepped into someone else’s life and forgotten how to breathe normally. Yesterday I was in a forest hut with her. Now I’m here.

  Rize walked beside him. Her steps didn’t hesitate on the worn stone. She had her scabbard at her hip, her posture straight, eyes scanning the room with a quiet vigilance that never fully turned off.

  She stopped where the crowd loosened around a round table near the back. The light was dimmer here, filtered by hanging lamps that smoked faintly at their tips. A trio of adventurers were already seated, waiting, their silhouettes carved into sharp shapes by the wavering glow.

  “Let me introduce you,” Rize turned toward Yu. “These are the three members of …Team Jask.” She said. Her voice was steady, but Yu heard the tightness beneath it, the way a single thread of tension held everything together.

  Rize’s gaze slid to him for a brief moment. Not a plea, not a warning—more like a quiet reminder. Stand with me. Yu’s mouth went dry. He stepped forward anyway.

  At the table, three pairs of eyes turned on him with the reflex of people who had survived by noticing threats early. The first to move was the largest.

  Naz rose with a grin that was too broad to be polite. His skin was bronze, weathered by sun and hard travel. Black armor covered him in slabs and plates that looked like they weighed as much as a door, but he wore it like it was part of his skin. His eyes were sharp in a way that didn’t soften even when he smiled—like a blade that knew how to laugh.

  “Hey, Rize!” he boomed, and the sound punched through the din around them. Then his gaze snapped to Yu. “So you’re Yu!” Naz’s grin widened. “I’m Naz Galevald, leader of Jask. Good to meet you!”

  Before Yu could answer properly, Naz slapped him on the back hard enough to jolt air out of his lungs, then seized his hand with both of his. The grip wasn’t malicious. It was just… powerful. A handshake from someone who wrestled fate for a living.

  “Ah—yes… nice to meet you,” Yu managed.

  Naz’s clasp almost knocked him off balance. Yu’s shoulder twinged as he steadied himself, and a few nearby adventurers glanced over, amused, before returning to their drinks. Naz laughed like it was the funniest thing in the world that Yu was still upright.

  “You’re lighter than you look!” Naz said, still holding on a heartbeat too long. “But hey, small guys survive. You must have tricks.”

  Tricks? If you count panic and stubbornness, sure. Yu forced a smile, then felt a different kind of pressure when he noticed the second person at the table.

  Roa didn’t stand. She didn’t smile. She simply looked at him with cool, measuring eyes as if Yu were a puzzle placed on the table for her to solve. Her green hair fell over her shoulders in a clean curtain, and her amber gaze didn’t blink often. It pinned him with the calm focus of someone used to examining wounds, measuring pulses, deciding what could be saved. Her expression stayed blank.

  “…Are you truly human?” Roa asked. The question landed without malice and without softness. No teasing. No warmth. Just a blunt probe.

  Yu froze. A dozen responses flared in his mind and died before they reached his tongue. What did you say to that? That yes, you had been human last time you checked? That your passport said so? That your blood type was A and you cried at dumb movies?

  “I… think so,” Yu said, stiff. Roa tilted her head slightly, eyes still on him.

  “Roa, seriously?” Rize’s frown sharpened. Roa gave the smallest shrug and reached for her drink again, as if she’d already moved on.

  The third member—Hanara—leaned back in her chair and watched the exchange with a grin that belonged in a tavern brawl. She had the kind of posture that said she was comfortable anywhere, even on a battlefield, even in a room full of strangers. Her eyes flicked between Rize and Yu like she was already assembling a story out of their body language. Then she jabbed Rize lightly in the side with her elbow.

  “So?” Hanara said, voice bright with mischief. “Is this a boyfriend introduction? That’s what this is, right?”

  Yu felt the floor tilt under him. Rize’s composure cracked like glass.

  “W–what!?” Rize’s voice shot up an octave. “N-no, I mean… he is my boyfriend, but—!”

  Silence rippled around them in a small circle as nearby ears caught the spike of her volume. Then laughter sparked, not cruel, but delighted. Adventurers loved gossip almost as much as they loved coin.

  “Oh?” Hanara’s grin widened into something feline. “Someone’s blushing. How cute.” She purred.

  Yu lowered his head, heat surging up his neck and burning at his ears. She just—said it. Like it was nothing. And everyone heard.

  “Ha! That’s our friend’s Rize!” Naz said. “Didn’t think you had it in you!” He roared with laughter and slapped the table.

  Rize’s face went even redder. She looked like she wanted to disappear into her own cloak. Hanara’s eyes glinted. Roa, somehow, looked unimpressed.

  Yu stood there, drowning in it—Naz’s booming presence, Hanara’s teasing grin, Roa’s sterile scrutiny. Every attempt to step fully into their circle made him feel more out of place, like he’d put on armor that didn’t fit and the straps were cutting into his skin.

  He couldn’t match their casual confidence. He couldn’t match their easy cruelty toward danger. He couldn’t even match how naturally they spoke about relationships as if love was another kind of battle plan.

  The only solid ground was Rize standing beside him. Her shoulder was almost touching his, close enough that he could feel the warmth through the space between their clothes. Close enough that he didn’t retreat. Stand with me. Okay. I’m trying.

  ?

  Later, when the guild’s noise thinned and the afternoon began to lean toward evening, Yu realized the air around him had shifted. The crowd had redistributed. The quest board had fewer people in front of it. The tavern corner was louder now, filled with the kind of laughter that only grew as bottles emptied.

  And at some point, Rize and two of Team Jask had disappeared. Yu turned, scanning faces, catching glimpses of armor and cloaks and weapons. For a second, a small spike of panic hit him. Did they leave without me? No. Rize wouldn’t—

  “Hey,” Hanara called. Before he could take more than two steps, Her voice cut across the space. Yu stopped. Hanara stood a short distance away, one hand on her hip, posture casual. Her grin was still there, but it didn’t reach her eyes now.

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  “…Walk with me?” She angled her chin toward the doors. She didn’t wait for his answer. She turned and headed outside as if he was already following. Yu hesitated, then moved after her.

  The street beyond the guild was sunlit but cooling, the stone warmed by the day and already beginning to give up its heat. People flowed past—merchants, children, soldiers, adventurers. The city was alive in a different rhythm than the guild hall’s constant churn.

  Hanara led Yu away from the main path and into a quieter side alley where the noise fell off as if someone had shut a door. The walls here were close, brick and stone, stained with old rain and soot. A strip of blue sky was visible overhead, narrow and distant.

  Hanara finally stopped and turned to face him. The playful demeanor dropped away like a mask taken off.

  “Hey, Yu,”Hanara said. “When Rize was struggling back then… you were watching her, weren’t you?” The question hit him sharply, like a blade laid flat against his throat.

  “…You noticed?” Yu stiffened and managed.

  “Of course.” Hanara’s eyes narrowed, not hostile—observant. “I’m good at that kind of thing. Detecting mana flow is my specialty,” she said.

  Yu’s stomach tightened. Mana flow. She’s talking about the thing I can’t explain. About observation.

  “What kind of magic is it?” Hanara asked. “The one that let you watch over Rize like that from another world.” She leaned back against the wall, arms folding loosely. Her tone stayed casual, but her gaze didn’t soften.

  “I—I don’t know,” Yu swallowed hard. The alley felt colder. “My world… doesn’t have magic. It just happened.” He admitted.

  “Huh,” Hanara blinked slowly, as if filing the answer away. “Interesting.” she said. She tilted her head and looked up at the strip of sky above them. For a moment, she said nothing. The silence stretched just long enough to become uncomfortable.

  “My special skill is called [Lost Memory].” Then Hanara spoke again. Yu looked up at her. Hanara’s mouth curved into a crooked, self-deprecating smile.

  “I made so many spells that chanting or constructing them became a pain,” Hanara said. “So I numbered them. Call the number, and the spell fires instantly. [No.66]. [No.30]. Simple, right?”

  “That’s… impressive,” Yu said honestly and stared.

  “You think so, don't you?” Hanara snorted softly. “But maybe that's the reason. I've become lazy even about living my life.” She said. The smile dimmed—just slightly, like a candle dipping in a draft. It was subtle enough that Yu might have missed it if he wasn’t watching closely. Hanara tapped her stomach lightly. Not suggestive. More like she was pointing at an internal core, something essential.

  “If I don’t keep my energy stable, this body disappear,” she said. “So I have to replenish it directly. Efficiently.”

  “Directly,” Yu repeated, carefully. His chest tightened. Hanara nodded once.

  “Which means,” she said, “my body can’t … I can't have a child with the person I love.” The words were deliberate. Stripped of anything that could be misunderstood. Not flirtation. Not a joke. A statement of loss. “That path just isn’t available to me anymore.” Hanara said.

  Yu’s breath caught, not because of the topic but because of the weight behind it. Hanara spoke like someone who had accepted the truth long ago, and acceptance didn’t make it less heavy. She met his gaze squarely.

  “Every Unique Skill has a Price,” Hanara said. “That includes mine.” Her voice stayed light, but resignation hid beneath it, deep and old. “If your feelings for Rize push your power into becoming a special skill,” Hanara continued, “you’ll face a price too. Something you can’t avoid.”

  Yu felt the alley shrink, the walls pressing closer. If my feelings become power… Then something will be taken.

  “Just remember that,” Hanara’s amber eyes sharpened. “Power isn’t free.” She said. The words sank into Yu like a stone dropped in a well, and the echo didn’t stop.

  “…I understand,” Yu said, though he wasn’t sure he truly did.

  “That’s all,” Hanara said. “I just wanted you to know what kind of world you’re stepping into.” She pushed off the wall and rolled her shoulders once, as if shaking off the seriousness she’d allowed herself for only a moment.

  Yu nodded, and as they walked back toward the main street, one word kept repeating in his mind with every footstep. Price.

  ?

  Around the same time, behind the guild, Rize walked through a narrow path with Roa.

  The alley was different from the one Hanara had chosen—wider, shadowed by the guild’s stone walls and the backs of nearby buildings. The light here was fading, stretched thin by approaching evening. Rize’s boots sounded soft against packed earth and scattered gravel. Roa’s footsteps were almost silent.

  “Roa?” Rize spoke softly.

  Roa nodded without turning her head, expression calm and unreadable as always. For a few more steps, nothing was said. The quiet between them was heavy, as if Roa was deciding whether she could afford honesty.

  “…What do you think of Naz?” Then Roa’s lips moved. The question was abrupt.

  “Naz?” Rize blinked, caught off guard. “He’s an important senior. A friend. Someone I trust.” Rize repeated.

  Roa stopped. She lifted her gaze toward the sky, and for a long moment she said nothing. Her face stayed blank, but her hands tightened together in front of her, fingers interlacing as if she needed something to hold onto.

  “…Naz and I were childhood friends,” Then Roa spoke. “I always followed after him.” She said. Her voice was even, but there was heat in the words, a buried intensity that made them tremble at the edges. “When he climbed trees, I climbed after him,” Roa continued. “When he jumped into the river, I jumped too.”

  Rize felt something twist in her chest. Roa didn’t look at her. She kept staring upward as if the sky could absorb the confession.

  “…Somewhere along the line, I fell in love with him,” Roa said. “But I couldn’t say it.” Her fingers trembled faintly. “I was recognized for healing talent and left the village,” Roa went on. “I trained desperately. I wanted to return. To stand beside him.”

  Rize’s throat tightened. She knew that kind of desperation—wanting to become stronger not for pride, but because weakness meant being left behind.

  “When I heard Naz left the village as an adventurer,” Roa said, “I was thrilled. I thought… finally, I could catch up.” Roa’s gaze lowered slightly, as if she could see the path her life had taken laid out beneath her feet. “So I refined my healing,” she said. “Not for clinics, but for battle. A wide-range healing technique no one else could replicate.” Her eyes softened with something fragile.

  “That’s my special skill—[Holy Glory].” The name sounded sacred. The weight behind it sounded anything but. Roa drew a slow breath. “But when I returned… Naz already had someone he loved.”

  “…Hanara,” Rize said tensed and quietly. Roa let out a strained laugh that didn’t match her usual calm.

  “I liked him long before she did!!!” Roa said. Her voice wavered now, just a little. “I couldn’t accept it! I tried to push my way in between them!”

  Rize’s breath halted. She’d always seen Roa as controlled, almost cold. A healer who stayed calm under blood and screaming. A person who could look at death and not flinch. Hearing this from her was like seeing a crack run through stone.

  “Naz…” Roa’s voice softened, and for a moment her eyes held a faint light. “Naz chose Hanara, me too, as a lover.” Roa’s hands tightened again, like she was gripping her own ribs through her clothes. “…And yet, the thorn in my chest never disappeared,” Roa said.

  Rize didn’t know what to say. She only nodded, slowly. Because she understood too well—behind every special skill, behind every strength, there was a story of longing and loss and choices that couldn’t be undone. Power came from somewhere. It always did. And that somewhere often bled.

  ?

  Evening settled over the streets in quiet layers.

  Lanterns flickered to life along stone paths, their orange light stretching shadows across walls and cobblestones. The air cooled, carrying the smell of damp stone and distant cooking fires. The city felt softer at night, but also sharper—every footstep more noticeable, every dark corner a little deeper.

  Rize and Yu met again near the edge of the guild district. Neither looked the same as before.

  Yu’s expression was tight, as if he’d been carrying something heavy in his mouth and didn’t know where to spit it out. Rize’s gaze was steady, but there was a thinness to it, like her calm was stretched over something tender.

  “…What’s wrong?” Rize asked. Her voice was firmer than usual, as if strength could hold the night back.

  “Hanara told me… a special skill always comes with a Price.” Yu hesitated, then spoke in a whisper.

  “A price…?” Rize’s eyes trembled, just once. Yu nodded.

  “She said that if my feelings for you became strong enough to turn my power into a special skill…” Yu swallowed. “Something would be taken in return.”

  Rize looked away. Roa’s confession lingered in her mind like a thorn she couldn’t pull out. Love could wound. Choices could scar. Even the strongest people carried invisible weights that never left them.The silence between them stretched.

  “If standing beside you means paying something… losing something…” Yu’s voice cracked slightly, then steadied. Yu’s hands clenched at his sides. He finally looked up again, eyes raw with honesty.

  Rize’s shoulders stiffened. She didn’t answer immediately. The lanternlight caught the edge of her profile, the line of her jaw, the faint tightness around her mouth.Then Rize exhaled slowly and met him head-on. Her eyes didn’t dodge. They didn’t soften. They held the kind of seriousness that had carried her through battles and nightmares.

  “…Yu,” she said. The way she said his name felt like taking his hand in hers. Silence pulled taut. Yu waited, heart pounding, the word Price echoing in his skull like a warning bell. “…Even then,” Rize said, “would you choose me?” Her voice dropped to a whisper.