Orario – Night
Orcbolg rarely visited places outside of the Dungeon, the Guild, or the abandoned church.
But tonight was different.
He needed information.
Monsters on the lower floors had been acting strangely. Unusual behaviors, new attack patterns—things that shouldn't happen.
And when it came to rumors, taverns were the best place to listen.
That's why he found himself here—The Hostess of Fertility.
A Strange Atmosphere
The moment Orcbolg stepped inside, the noise softened.
It wasn't silence—no one in Orario went completely quiet over a newcomer. But adventurers noticed him.
A man in full armor, helmet on, carrying the presence of a seasoned warrior.
He ignored the stares and walked to an empty corner table.
A Silver-Haired Waitress
"Welcome to the Hostess of Fertility!"
A cheerful voice greeted him.
He looked up.
A young woman with silver hair and bright gray eyes stood before him, holding a tray. She had a warm, inviting smile.
"You must be new here," she said. "I'm Syr. Can I get you something to eat?"
"Stew," he said simply.
Syr giggled. "Just stew? No drink?"
He shook his head.
"Alright, one stew coming up!"
She walked off, and Orcbolg turned his attention back to the tavern, listening.
A Keen Observer
Conversations filled the air.
Adventurers talked about their dungeon runs, complained about the Guild's commissions, and boasted about their earnings.
But he wasn't here for that.
He listened for anything unusual.
—"Monsters in the middle floors are acting weird."
His eyes narrowed slightly.
—"Some say new species might be appearing."
More whispers. More rumors.
Then—
"Your food."
A different voice.
The Elven Waitress
A plate was set before him.
Orcbolg looked up.
A blonde elf stood there. Tall. Elegant. Sharp blue eyes that held quiet strength.
She wasn't smiling.
"You're an adventurer," she said. It wasn't a question.
"Yes."
Her gaze lingered on his helmet. "You always wear that?"
"Yes."
A brief pause. Then—
"Hmm."
She placed his stew down and walked away.
Orcbolg watched her for a moment before turning back to his food.
Unseen Interest
From behind the bar, Syr and Ryu watched.
"He's… strange," Syr murmured.
"He's cautious," Ryu corrected. "Like a man who's fought too many battles."
Syr giggled. "You sound interested."
Ryu didn't respond.
But her eyes flickered toward the armored adventurer in the corner.