Last evening...
The evening crowd surfaced together.
Not the noisy groups, not the rookies comparing scratches like trophies—she stepped out between them, timing her exit when the flow thinned and the light softened. Dust clung to her boots. A faint green stain marked one sleeve where sap had splashed and dried.
She checked her pouch once. Tied. Full enough.
Good.
The western steps carried her up and out, the Dungeon's breath releasing her back into Orario's open air. Sound returned first—voices overlapping, metal on stone, the city's restless rhythm. She rolled her shoulders once, easing tension, then started east.
She didn't hurry.
The Dungeon stayed behind. The open world ahead.
Near the Guild annex, a familiar voice called out.
"Elara!"
She stopped, turned.
Eina Tulle stood near the notice board with a stack of papers tucked under one arm, her straight brown hair falling just past her shoulders despite the late hour. Emerald eyes caught the lamplight as she smiled—relieved first, then warm.
"You're back already. I thought you'd be down longer."
"Routes were clear," she replied. "Harvested what I needed."
Eina glanced at the pouch. "Herbs?"
"And resin. Nothing deep."
"That's good." The word meant safe, not easy. Eina hesitated, then nodded toward the side street. "I'm done for the day. Walk?"
She nodded.
They moved together, the city thinning as they went. Eina matched her pace without trying. No questions yet. Eina knew better.
After a block, Eina spoke again. "Anything strange today?"
She glanced at her. "Why?"
"I like to know. If something's happening down there, I can warn my adventurers."
She considered that. It was true. Eina kept tabs on Dungeon conditions the way herbalists tracked seasons—not for gossip, but because lives depended on it.
"Nothing new. A prum used a monster lure on the third floor."
Eina stopped walking.
"What?" Her voice sharpened. "Why would anyone—"
"It didn't end badly."
"That's not the point." Eina's frown deepened. "People keep treating the Dungeon like it's—" She cut herself off, exhaled slowly.
"Don't worry. Your adventurers would be fine."
Eina nodded, but her expression didn't ease.
They walked another block in silence.
At Eina's building, they climbed the stairs and stepped inside. The place was modest and clean, with shelves neatly labeled and a kettle already warming. Eina set her papers aside and poured water without asking.
"You can sit."
She did.
They shared tea in silence for a moment. It wasn't awkward. It never was.
Eina set her cup down carefully. "There's a rumor going around."
She waited.
"A chienthrope. Luring adventurers into bad positions. Stealing from them." Eina paused. "Have you heard anything?"
She thought of the hooded figure. The tail. The way they'd moved.
"No."
Eina nodded slowly, but her fingers drummed once against the table. "I hope it's just talk. The Guild's been getting complaints, but no one's filed an official report yet."
She didn't answer. The boy surfaced in her mind—hood up, posture wrong, still standing when he shouldn't have been. That girl saved him.
He'd be fine then. Wouldn't he?
But something wasn't right.
"Except..." she started, then stopped.
Eina looked up sharply. "Except?"
She shook her head. "Nothing. Just thinking out loud."
They finished their tea. Eina gathered her papers, glancing at her as if weighing a question, then letting it pass.
"You can come by tomorrow. If you need a place to rest between runs."
"Thanks." She meant it.
When she left, the street was quiet. Lamps flickered on. The city settled.
She adjusted her strap and started home. Which is next door.
Just another day.
Just luck.