This was a horrible idea. Remind me why I agreed to do this with Mary again?

  Watching the scene unfold before me with half-lidded eyes, I quirk one corner of my mouth up.

  Two porters are currently in a heated debate, looking on the verge of throttling each other.

  The remaining three stand off to the side, well away from the argument.

  “We can’t just take her in!” one of the arguing porters shouts. “Do you know how dangerous most undead are?”

  The other lets out a scoff. “It’s not like we’re letting her into our house. The girl just asked to join us while harvesting herbs. It’s not that deep.”

  “Well, it is to me!” the woman shrieks. “What if she tries to attack us or something? Are you itching to have your asura organ torn out by her?!”e of throttling each other.

  The remaining three stand off to the side, well away from the argument.

  “We can’t just take her in!” one of the arguing porters shouts. “Do you know how dangerous most undead are?”

  The other lets out a scoff. “It’s not like we’re letting her into our house. The girl just asked to join us while harvesting herbs. It’s not that deep.”

  “Well, it is to me!” the woman shrieks. “What if she tries to attack us or something? Are you itching to have your asura organ torn out by her?!”

  Slowly blinking, I stand there motionless.

  What are they, kids? You’d think those two would have more sense than to argue in public like this.

  I glance briefly toward the path I came from and frown.

  This is a waste of time—time we could’ve used to finish the herb quota.

  A shudder runs down my spine.

  I don’t know these recruiters well, but considering how the last place treated Essevians who failed their quota... it was horrifying. Hiding the pain in my stomach after their discipline was a nightmare….Safe to say, most porters need to look busy when being hired.

  "Should I just wiggle my way back into dismantling monsters?" I mutter under my breath, "At least I wouldn't have to put up with this nonsense and actually look like I'm doing my job."

  “Like, look at her!” the man yells, drawing my attention as he gestures toward me. “She looks like some straggler fished out of the sewers.”

  He mimes swinging something, then jerks his chin at me.

  “Does that look like a high-ranking zombie? Even people with weak asura organs like us could take her down with a well-aimed shot to the back of the head.”

  “That’s true,” the woman hums. “I’ve got that acid bottle in my backpack. Even if she regenerates, it’ll still hurt.”

  Smiling sweetly, I will myself and the tentacles to freeze in place.

  They do realize I’m still standing right here, don’t they?

  Lowering my hands, I begin to scan them. My eyes trace over every weapon the porters have—and potential ways to disarm them, if needed.

  …Hopefully this doesn’t turn into full-blown violence. It’s not uncommon, just frequent enough that staying on guard is the smarter option. Still… explaining it to my superiors would be a pain. I’d rather not end up with my head on a spike.

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  "If I may suggest," I say slowly, raising one hand, "Essevians—even one as lowly ranked as myself—can’t die. As porters, we make decent distractions for other monsters."

  Shifting my weight onto one leg, I try to look as harmless as possible. "And Essevians like me, the ones who still retain their sanity and control, don’t eat asura organs. Mostly because it’s more effort than just buying a chicken leg from a nearby stall."

  What would we even gain from it, anyway? People say it tastes like mud mixed with poop, and there’s a good chance of blowing up in a colorful explosion. Even the crazier ones with higher resistance still burst after eating the stuff.

  "That undead does have a point," someone else chimes in, "Besides, weren't you complaining about the lack of help?"

  "But-but"

  "And look at those tentacles! that's more than triple the amount of hands!"

  "Ugh, fine," The woman relents. "You better not laze off or I will beat you up."

  Simply nodding my head, I smile.

  Looks like that's taken care of.

  'Rustle!'

  Jerking my head up at the noise, I spin around to face the row of green, bush-like plants behind me. I feel the tentacles rise as I ready myself to bolt at any moment.

  The leaves part slightly as two extremely pale hands emerge. A moment later, their owner fully reveals herself.

  “Eeeek! What is that?” someone shrieks. “A monster!”

  Narrowing my eyes, I straighten up a bit. Trying to get a better look, I watch as the cloaked figure steps closer.

  As she moves into the light, I can make out more of her features. She looks no older than twelve, with extremely pale skin and Hazel hair. Where her eyes should be are just empty sockets. Most notably, four pudgy tentacles grow from her back, covered in striped orange-red fur.

  "…Um, hi…" the girl whispers so softly I almost don’t hear her.

  Watching her twiddle her fingers, I slowly curl my hands into fists, my mouth set in a straight line. Through the bond, everything is silent—not so much as a peep or even a muffled bang against my mental barrier from the tentacles.

  …Right. The parasites and the turning process don’t happen often in most of the places I’ve traveled to as a porter. Doesn’t mean it never happens.

  Through the bond, I can feel a few tentacles let out a series of signals, too small for my ears to make out.

  The girl's own tentacles respond, an answer that seems to please mine as they send out a signal of relief before some begin to reach out toward her.

  Letting my eyes wander down the girl's clothing, I spot the little bracelet around her wrist that signifies she's a for-hire porter.

  “Hey, you!” someone yells from behind me. “Is something there?! I can’t see anything—it’s too dark over there!”

  Not taking my eyes off the little girl, I lower my back slightly.

  "It's another porter," I answer, gently pushing the girl forward toward the light. "She must have been scared off by other porters."

  The moment everyone lays their eyes on the little girl, a voice in particular shrieks out.

  "Oh god!" the voice of a certain woman shouts behind me. "Not another one!"

  "Aww, she's so cute, though," someone else chimes in. "I didn't think an Essevian would look so cute."

  "Don't be fooled, that could be someone in their mid-thirties for all we know," the pesky, annoying woman chimes in again. "Besides, we're not planning on taking two Essevians, are we?!"

  At her shouting, the little girl twiddles her fingers and seems to curl inward.

  "…I'm sorry," the girl says in a hushed voice, "…I just thought I could help…?"

  The girl then looks off to the side, tapping her feet nervously on the ground. From the corner of my eye, I can see my tentacles still entwining themselves with the girl's own.

  …Looks like some older hunters threatened her at some point.

  Briefly glancing back at the pile of monster corpses, I let out a small hum.

  …And considering her age, along with how skinny she looks, the girl probably can’t dismantle monsters. At least, not as well as the others can. Someone definitely drove her out.

  Watching the girl for a moment longer, I let out a sigh and pinch the bridge of my nose.

  Well, I don’t want to get involved, but…this is getting ridiculous.

  "Don't worry, I can confirm that this girl is exactly as her age suggests," I say, turning to the rest of the porters.

  "How do we know you're not lying?"

  "Does it matter?" I say. "Didn't we need more help to finish the task quickly?"

  "But—"

  "If anything happens, I will make sure to take responsibility for it," I say, slightly nodding my head.

  As the woman glares at me, seemingly trying to weigh her options, another porter who has not spoken up yet steps forward.

  "Just let them come along," the boy says. "We don’t have that much time left before we need to meet up anyway. I’d rather not be disciplined for missing a quota."

  With that statement, the rest of the porters quickly agree.

  "Fine," the woman huffs, spinning her body away from us. "Come along, but don't make any trouble. I'm watching you."

  Nodding my head, I begin to follow. As I take a step forward, I feel a small tapping against my arm.

  Resisting the urge to jump or attack, I slowly glance down at the little Essevian girl and raise one of my eyebrows.

  "…Thank you…." the little girl whispers, bowing her head.

  "Don't thank me," I say, quickly moving ahead. "The more hands we have, the faster we can finish this."