The morning sunlight spilled into the room of the Gilded Griffon Inn like liquid gold, turning the simple wooden walls into something warm and alive. Dust motes drifted lazily in the shafts of light, and the chorus of sparrows outside created a melody that pulled Yukio slowly from the depths of sleep.
At first, his mind was blank. He stared at the ceiling beams, the kind of rustic, hand-hewn woodwork that he had only ever seen in fantasy video games. Then the memories of the previous day returned—the hunt, the goblins, the inn’s single shared bed. A grin tugged at his lips.
He stretched. Or tried to. Something heavy pinned him down.
Yukio blinked, tilting his head. His heart skipped.
Michibiki was asleep on his chest.
Her silver-white hair spilled over him like a silken curtain, shimmering faintly in the sunlight. Her breathing was even, her cheek pressed against the fabric of his tunic, the faint warmth of her body bleeding into him. Her slender hand clutched his shirt tightly, as if even in dreams she refused to let go.
Yukio froze, face heating. No way…
His mind screamed a dozen thoughts at once: Don’t move. Move. Wake her. Don’t wake her. This is dangerous. This is the best thing ever.
She shifted slightly, sighing in her sleep, and the blanket tightened around them both. The softness of her weight pressed even closer against his chest. Yukio felt his ears go red. And she called me the perv? Look at this!
He let out a nervous chuckle, brushing a strand of hair from her face.
“Guess you’re not so untouchable after all, angel,”
He whispered.
Her eyelashes fluttered.
“Oh, no…”
Yukio mouthed.
Her eyes opened. At first, calm, still half-dreaming. Then confusion. Then horror.
In a blink, she jolted upright—too fast. She tripped on the blanket, tumbled off the side of the bed, and hit the floor with a muffled thud.
“What—what do you think you’re doing?!”
Michibiki shrieked, wrapping the blanket around herself like a fortress. Her face was redder than molten lava.
“You—how—why were you—?!”
“Me?!”
Yukio sat up, pointing.
“You’re the one who climbed on top of me!”
“L-lies!”
She sputtered, too flustered to think straight.
“You… you dragged me there somehow!”
“Oh yeah?”
Yukio smirked.
“In your sleep? Admit it. You’re the clingy type.”
Her jaw dropped. She spun away, summoning her mage robes from her pocket inventory with a dramatic fwip.
“I don’t want to hear another word. Not one!”
Yukio stretched his arms over his head, grinning.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.
“Heh. And you called me the perv.”
---
By the time they sat at a small table in the Gilded Griffon’s dining hall, Michibiki had forced her composure back into place—though the faint pink on her cheeks betrayed her. The inn bustled with morning noise: adventurers clanking around in half-worn armor, the smell of fresh bread and sizzling sausage wafting from the kitchen, a bard tuning a lute by the corner hearth.
Michibiki ate her bread daintily, gaze fixed anywhere but him. Yukio leaned back in his chair, enjoying every second of her embarrassed silence.
“So,”
He said casually, spearing a sausage with his fork,
“What's the plan today? Another babysitting slime quest?”
Her eyes narrowed.
“Another low-rank quest. We’re not rushing into anything dangerous until you actually understand this world.”
“Or,”
Yukio countered, waving his fork like a conductor,
“We could raise the stakes. Go all-in. High risk, high reward. My Wheel of Providence is itching for another spin”
She slammed her cup down.
“You and that ridiculous Wheel. It’s unpredictable. You’ll die.”
“That’s the point.”
His grin widened.
“Where’s the fun in safe bets?”
“You’re insane.”
But the corner of her mouth betrayed the tiniest smile.
---
The guild was already a whirlwind when they arrived. Adventurers in mismatched armor crowded around the request board, shouting over each other. Clerks scurried like ants, papers stacked precariously in their arms. A trio of rugged mercenaries compared scars at the bar, while a pair of mages argued about spell components.
Emera, as always, seemed immune to the chaos. She spotted Yukio and Michibiki instantly and waved them over with her ever-composed smile.
“Good morning you two,”
She greeted warmly. She produced a thick stack of parchment from under the desk.
“Here are today’s available quests.”
Yukio rifled through them quickly.
“Goblins. More goblins. Still goblins. Wait, let me guess… goblins?”
Michibiki leaned in. Her eyes sharpened.
“Every single one?”
Emera’s smile faltered. She adjusted her glasses, lowering her voice.
“After your report yesterday, the guild dispatched scouts. They found a goblin stronghold at the edge of the Evergreen Forest. Not a camp—an organized fortress. Our estimates place the population at… at least a hundred.”
The words spread like wildfire across the hall. Adventurers fell silent, listening. The air grew tense.
Yukio’s pulse quickened.
“A hundred, huh? Perfect. Sign us up.”
Before Emera could respond, Michibiki seized Yukio’s ear and twisted viciously.
“Absolutely not!”
“Gah—ow, ow!”
Yukio yelped, flailing.
“I need that ear!”
“You’ll get yourself killed, idiot!”
Adventurers nearby laughed, whispering about the strange pair. Yukio gritted his teeth, then smirked despite the pain.
“C’mon, Michibiki. Imagine it—take down the goblin fortress, walk back into town as heroes. Free drinks, free food, maybe a statue in our honor.”
Her blush returned.
“I don’t care if they carve your face into the mountain. I’m not letting you throw your life away!”
But when Yukio leaned closer, eyes gleaming with reckless confidence, she faltered.
“…You’ll regret this,”
She muttered.
He held out his pinky.
“If I mess up even once, I owe you a favor. Anything.”
Her eyes lingered on his pinky, on his grin. Slowly, with a sigh, she hooked hers around his.
“Idiot.”
“You know,”
He shot back.
---
The Evergreen Forest loomed ahead by noon, a sprawling sea of pines. The air was sharp and cool, filled with the scent of sap and moss. Light filtered through the canopy in shifting patches.
Michibiki marched ahead, arms crossed.
“I still can’t believe I agreed to this.”
“You didn’t,”
Yukio said cheerfully, following close behind.
“You just couldn’t stop me. That’s what we call a loss of the hand.”
She glared over her shoulder.
“One of these days, that mouth will get you killed.”
“Not today.”
He winked.
“Today I’ve got you.”
Her cheeks pinked again before she spun forward quickly.
“…Idiot.”
He laughed softly, jogging to match her stride.
“Tell you what. If I need your help even once in this fight, I’ll owe you another favor. Anything you want. Promise.”
Michibiki slowed, skeptical.
“Anything?”
“Anything.”
He held out his pinky again, eyes gleaming.
Her lips twitched despite herself. She hooked her pinky with his, grip lingering just a second too long.
“…You’re going to regret that.”
“Worth it.”
They walked for a while in silence, the forest quiet but for their boots crunching against leaves. Then Michibiki stopped abruptly, raising a hand.
“Shh,”
She whispered.
Through the trees lay a clearing.
At its center: a fortress.
The crude wall of logs towered twice Yukio’s height, bound by sinew and reinforced with jagged bones. Skulls leered from the gates, strung like trophies. Smoke coiled upward, carrying the stench of roasting meat and blood.
Two goblins guarded the gate—towering brutes with shoulders like boulders, jagged stone axes gripped in clawed hands.
Yukio let out a low whistle.
“That’s… a lot of skulls.”
Michibiki’s face was serious, her usual serenity sharpened to steel.
“This isn’t a camp. It’s a base.”
He tightened his grip on his sword, eyes gleaming.
“Good. Then the stakes just went up.”
She glanced at him—half annoyed, half worried, half something she wouldn’t admit.
“…You really are reckless.”
He smirked, the gambler’s fire in his eyes.
“Reckless? Nah. Just all-in.”
