Luca's eyes scanned the guild hall, finally landing on the reception desk.
Old Carl, who was wrapped in bandages like a mummy, was slumped over the desk, snoring softly.
Wasn't this guy stationed at the backlines? How did he end up so badly injured?
Luca wondered to himself as he approached the desk and gave it a few taps.
"Who's there? Can't you see I'm sleeping..." Old Carl groggily muttered, yawning as he stirred.
Halfway through his sentence, he blinked and suddenly froze as he recognized the person in front of him.
"L-Luca, sir! What brings you here?" Carl's expression changed faster than flipping a page. His demeanor shifted instantly to one of fawning, a grin plastered on his face.
Luca could only shake his head.
This guy, a mid-tier peak assassin, has absolutely no shame. Luca thought.
Still, in times of chaos, people like Carl often survive better.
