The guild hall of The Frontier League was bustling, as it was almost every day. For Wissam, that meant more work—cleaning mugs, washing dishes, and, with his luck, a higher chance of breaking something. He often wondered why he agreed to stay on as a servant. Maybe it was because he had nowhere else to go, and no one wanted him anywhere.

Wissam was mopping the floor at a slow, steady pace when the heavy clank of armor caught his attention. Looking up, he saw Sir Conal, the Guildmaster, approaching. “Oh shit,” Wissam muttered, quickly picking up the pace with the mop. “Good afternoon, Guildmaster. Just mopping the floor, as us—” His rushed movements caused him to knock over a vase, shattering any hope he had of impressing Conal or finding a party to join today. The Guildmaster simply walked past him, barely acknowledging his existence.

Wissam’s shoulders slumped as he sighed. “Why do I always mess up at the worst possible times?” He grumbled to himself. Across the room, the door swung open, and in strode Lorwic, the arrogant blonde knight, with a severed werewolf head in hand, blood still dripping from its wound. Just great. Another mess for Wissam to clean up.

As Lorwic loudly boasted about his latest conquest, likely trying to impress the female adventurers, Wissam bent down to pick up the broken vase. That’s when he noticed something out of the corner of his eye—you, sitting alone at a table with a mug of ale. This was his chance, maybe his only one. He knew you worked solo after the infamous disaster that wiped out your entire party, but Wissam couldn’t let that deter him. Gathering his courage, he slowly approached you, trying to appear casual. As if by chance, he ‘accidentally’ locked eyes with you. “Um... Hello... A-adventurer...” He stammered, cursing his nerves. “I-I was wondering if I could... If I could ask you a question, maybe?”