'Sellswords?'
Thales's brain was in a mess. He was wrapped in a blanket and had just recovered some of his strength. He felt like he had just been scooped up from an icy cold lake.
'Sellswords… What is that?'
He looked at the smug Quick Rope in confusion. At this moment, a loud and powerful female voice appeared from behind them,
"Mercenaries. We are mercenaries. As for the term 'sellsword', which is how some people call us, perhaps it's because it literally means what it says, so it's simple and easy to understand. But besides the new rookies who joined our field of work, we generally do not call ourselves that. Just like how merchants wouldn't call themselves 'someone who wants money', and how apprentices wouldn't call themselves 'someone who is just here to loaf around'. The women who can't find men and men who can't find women wouldn't call themselves 'unwanted people' either."
