{Takeshi}
"This is absolutely unacceptable."
Takeshi Yagami, Deputy Director of the Player Association, slammed his tablet on the conference table. The morning news played on loop across three different screens, each showing variations of the same story.
The same infuriating story.
RESCUE GIRL SAVES FOUR ROOKIES FROM C-RANK DUNGEON
"Sir, the public response has been overwhelmingly positive—"
"I don't care if they're throwing parades in her honor!" Takeshi's face turned red. "An unregistered individual is entering unstable dungeons. Do you understand what precedent this sets?"
His assistant shifted nervously.
"The rescued Players are grateful—"
"The rescued Players are idiots who couldn't handle a simple destabilization." Takeshi straightened his tie, a nervous habit he'd developed over twenty years of bureaucracy. "Schedule a press conference. Noon. Main auditorium."
"What's our position?"
"That the Player Association does not and will never support vigilante actions. That dungeons are dangerous. That only registered Players should attempt rescues."
"But sir, we don't actually conduct rescues—"
"Did I ask for your opinion?"
The assistant bowed and left.
Takeshi stared at the screens.
Some girl in a hood and tactical gear, face always conveniently obscured, pulling people from dungeons like she had a death wish. The media ate it up. Channel 7 especially, with their "exclusive footage" and dramatic music.
[Not only is this going to inspire a bunch of copycats to go get themselves killed trying to save doomed players, but how does it make the Association look that this toothpick of a girl is doing this?]
He pulled up the registration database. No one matching her description. No one with those specific abilities. A ghost in the system.
"Rescue Girl," he muttered. "What a stupid name."
[And what are we supposed to do?] He continued his train of thought. [Toss in our own employees into the meat grinder? No, no, no... This won't do.]
---
Four hours later, Takeshi stood before a room full of reporters.
Cameras flashed. Microphones extended like spears. Salivating journalists held them in a phalanx.
"The Player Association's position is clear. We cannot and will not endorse the actions of any unregistered individuals entering dungeons. While we appreciate the... enthusiasm... of citizens wanting to help, dungeons are lethal environments requiring proper training and registration."
A reporter's hand shot up.
"But Rescue Girl has saved eleven people in the past month—"
"Through sheer luck. How many unawakened people will die trying to copy her? How many families will lose loved ones because someone watched Channel 7 and thought they could be a hero?"
The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.
"Are you saying the Association will stop her?"
"We're saying she should register properly. Follow protocols. Work within the system designed to protect everyone."
"But if she's already saved more people than the Association has recently, are you saying she should participate in a system that doesn't actually rescue people?"
Takeshi's eye twitched.
"Next question."
---
{Kasumi}
Kasumi Hayakawa stepped out of the D-rank dungeon portal, spear resting on her shoulder, not a single drop of sweat on her perfect skin.
Behind her, five other rookie Black Dragon Guild members stumbled out, covered in monster blood and breathing hard.
"That was... holy shit," one wheezed.
"Kasumi-chan, you killed that Lesser Drake in three strikes!"
"Two," she corrected, flipping her flame-orange hair over her shoulder. The motion looked like something from a shampoo commercial. "The third was just to make sure."
Kasumi was Level 12, nineteen years old. The youngest Player to ever solo a D-rank dungeon. The Black Dragon Guild's newest star, with legs that went on forever and a face that launched a thousand forum threads.
"Kasumi! Kasumi! Over here!"
The press had already gathered.
She struck a pose, one hand on her hip, golden spear planted in the ground. The camera flashes turned the afternoon into a strobe light disco.
"How does it feel to clear a dungeon alone, at your level?"
"Expected," she said, voice carrying that perfect mix of confidence and boredom. "I'm not like other rookies."
"Any words for your growing fanbase?"
"Keep watching. I'm just getting started."
She walked past them, her fellow guild rookies trailing behind like exhausted puppies. Her phone had 47 notifications. Fan art, marriage proposals, sponsorship offers. The usual.
She opened Tweeter instead.
Her latest clear was trending at #7.
Above it, at #3:
#RescueGirl
"Are you fucking kidding me?"
"Something wrong, Kasumi-chan?" Her team captain asked.
"... No. Nothing."
She scrolled through the posts.
They were all blurry photos of some absolute nobody in tactical gear, alongside dramatic retellings of rescues. Channel 7's exclusive footage (with that annoyingly catchy theme music they'd added) stuck out in particular.
[I killed a Lesser Drake. A LESSER DRAKE. At Level 12!]
But no. Everyone was obsessed with some wannabe hero who couldn't even show her face.
"Kasumi-chan, the victory party is at eight—"
"Yes! Yeah, I'll be there."
She kept scrolling. Someone had made fan art of Rescue Girl. It had 50,000 likes.
Her drake kill video had 31,000.
[This is bullshit.]
"Hey, Captain?" She turned to the exhausted man. "What do you think about this Rescue Girl thing?"
"Oh, that?" He shrugged. "Kind of inspiring, I guess. Someone caring more about lives than loot."
"But she's not even a real Player! She's just... some person with a death wish!"
"Maybe. But she's saved eleven people."
Kasumi's grip on her spear tightened.
"We save people too. Every dungeon we clear prevents outbreaks."
"Sure, but it's different, isn't it? We do it for levels and loot. She does it for... well, nothing. Just to help."
[Just to help. Right.]
"She's probably just doing it for attention," Kasumi said.
"Maybe. Still pretty brave though."
The captain walked ahead to talk to the guild representatives waiting with contracts and bonus checks.
Kasumi stayed behind, still scrolling.
A new post appeared.
Someone had edited together all of Rescue Girl's clips with emotional music. The top comment read:
"This is what a real hero looks like."
[A real hero? I've been training since I was twelve! I awakened at fourteen! I've dedicated my entire life to being a Player!]
"Kasumi-chan!" A fan ran up, notebook in hand. "Can I get an autograph?"
"Of course!" She signed with a flourish, adding a little heart at the end.
"You're so amazing! The way you fight is just incredible!"
"Thank you! I train very hard!"
"Have you seen that Rescue Girl footage? So cool, right?"
Kasumi's smile twitched.
"I... haven't really paid attention to it."
"Oh, you should! She's incredible!"
[No she isn't. Anyone could be a hero.]
The fan ran off with her autograph. Kasumi stood there, spear in hand, surrounded by the evidence of her incredible achievement.
She'd killed a Lesser Drake at Level 12. She'd broken records. She'd done something other Players would call impossible.
And she was trending below someone who couldn't even show their face.
Her phone buzzed. A text from her manager.
"Photoshoot moved to 6 PM. Magazine wants to do a spread on 'The New Generation of Players.'"
She texted back:
"Fine."
[Why do people care more about some amateur sneaking into dungeons than a prodigy breaking records? Come on!]
She walked toward the guild car waiting for her, designer armor catching the afternoon sun perfectly. Everything about her was perfect. Her form, her technique, her image.
So why did some nobody in a hood matter more?
The driver opened the door for her. She slid in, checking Tweeter one more time.
That Rescue Girl post had 100,000 impressions already.
Kasumi threw her phone on the seat.
[This isn't over.]
