Chapter 10: A vow after the rain.

The rain in Ordis finally stopped on the day Vera left.

The guild carriage waited at the back gate. Vera stood beside it with only a simple travel pack and a figure made hollow by the fresh amputation.

“Don’t see me off, silly girl.”

Vera ruffled Hill’s hair with her remaining left hand. Though her face was still pale, she forced out the same hearty smile she used to wear.

“I’m not going to die. Just heading home to farm. Heard the wheat back there grows well—no more risking my neck in cursed dungeons. Might even live a few extra years.”

Hill stood beside the carriage, clutching a sheet of parchment tightly.

Vera had shoved it into her hands. An unfinished map.

The place Vera had always wanted to see—the Aurora Corridor at the northern edge of the continent.

“This map is yours now.”

Vera gazed toward the distant sky. A flicker of loneliness passed through her eyes, quickly replaced by resignation.

“Go see it for me. Don’t end up like me—breaking halfway.”

“…I will.”

Hill’s voice caught, but her eyes burned with unusual determination.

“I’ll go—for both of us.”

“Hah! That’s the spirit!”

Vera laughed loudly, then leaned close and lowered her voice.

“But… be careful around that one beside you.”

“Hm?”

Vera glanced toward Phyllis, who stood a short distance away—smiling gently while speaking to the coachman and handing him a small pouch of gold coins for travel expenses.

The golden-haired nun looked so holy, so kind—like the living embodiment of the Goddess on earth.

Vera frowned, as though she wanted to say more, but ultimately just shook her head.

“Never mind. That girl is sincere toward you. Just… yeah. Keep your eyes open.”

Vera climbed into the carriage.

“I’m off! Next time we meet, I’ll treat you to homemade barley ale!”

The wheels rolled forward, splashing through puddles.

Hill watched until the carriage disappeared around the street corner. Her fingers tightened on the map.

“She’s gone.”

Phyllis had appeared beside her at some point. She naturally linked arms with Hill and opened an elegant parasol above them both, shielding them from the suddenly bright sunlight.

“Mm.”

“Will Hill feel lonely?”

“A little.”

Hill took a deep breath and turned her head. Crimson flames burned in her eyes.

“But Phyllis—I’ve decided.”

“Decided what?”

Phyllis tilted her head.

“I want to become stronger. Right now I’m too weak. I can’t protect anyone—not even myself. I have to rely on you for everything.”

Hill looked down at the map in her hand.

“I’m going to form a proper party. A full, balanced adventurer team. We’ll challenge C-rank dungeons—even B-rank ones.”

The air seemed to freeze for a second.

Phyllis stared silently at Hill.

This was unexpected.

The Hill standing before her no longer looked like a wounded fledgling. She looked like a freshly sharpened blade.

That keen, piercing light…

Beautiful enough to make the heart tremble—and dangerous enough to make it fear.

You want to fly higher?

You want to go to more dangerous places?

You want to meet more people?

A surge of black sludge rose in Phyllis’s heart.

Her instinct was to refuse—to lock Hill back in their room with excuses like “the outside is too dangerous” or “your body hasn’t fully recovered.”

But she saw the light in Hill’s eyes.

If she forcibly extinguished that flame now, Hill might wither. She might even… come to resent her.

That was something Phyllis absolutely could not allow.

If she couldn’t block the path, then she would guide it.

If Hill wanted teammates, then Phyllis would decide who was qualified to stand beside her.

She would select the most perfect shield, the most obedient hunting dog—and they must also be utterly harmless, incapable of stealing Hill away.

“…I really can’t do anything with Hill, can I?”

After a long silence, Phyllis let out a helpless yet indulgent sigh.

She reached out and gently smoothed the silver strands that the wind had tousled, her smile flawless.

“Since it’s Hill’s wish, of course I—as your partner—will support you fully. After all, I also want to see Hill standing at the very top.”

“Really? You’re not against it?”

Hill’s eyes lit up with surprise.

She had expected Phyllis to fuss and lecture her like an overprotective mother.

“Of course not. But…”

Phyllis raised one finger and pressed it lightly to Hill’s lips. Her blue eyes narrowed slightly, radiating an undeniable authority.

“I have three conditions.”

That evening, in the White Rose District dormitory.

The table was laden with a lavish dinner.

Creamy mushroom chicken stew, pan-seared cod, and freshly baked white bread so soft it resembled clouds…

Hill sat ramrod straight, staring at Phyllis across from her.

Tonight Phyllis carried a different aura. If not for the homely apron, she could have passed for a judge delivering a verdict.

“First…”

Phyllis sliced a small piece of cod and brought it elegantly to her mouth.

“Final approval for all new recruits must go through me.”

“Hill has sharp instincts in battle, but when it comes to reading people… you’re far too naive. I cannot allow anyone with ill intentions—or terrible hygiene—to get close to Hill.”

“That’s fine.”

Hill nodded.

She really wasn’t good at handling complicated human relationships. As a cleric, Phyllis’s judgment of character would surely be reliable.

“Second…”

Phyllis pointed at Hill’s chest.

“No matter how many people join, I must be vice-captain and treasurer. All finances, mission planning, and resource allocation will pass through my hands.”

“Of course. You already handle the money anyway.”

Hill handed over financial control without the slightest hesitation.

She had always been the type to spend everything she earned each month.

“Third…”

Phyllis set down her knife and fork. The utensils clinked crisply against the porcelain.

She stared at Hill, eyes deepening into something unfathomable.

“If during an adventure I determine a mission endangers Hill’s life, or if Hill sustains serious injury… I have the authority to forcibly terminate the mission and bring Hill back.”

“At that time, Hill must not resist.”

It was for safety.

Though it sounded overbearing, when Hill thought of Vera’s severed arm, she found the condition entirely reasonable.

“Deal.”

Hill extended her hand.

“Then I’ll be counting on you, Vice-Captain.”

Phyllis clasped Hill’s hand.

Her palm was slightly damp. She gripped very tightly—as though sealing a contract.

“A pleasure working with you… my Captain.”

Phyllis smiled.

The next day, at the first-floor announcement board of the Adventurers’ Guild.

Hill held a freshly written recruitment notice, about to pin it up.

The content was simple and blunt:

【Recruiting Teammates! Targeting C-rank dungeons! Urgently need vanguard and scout. Requirements: strong, can tank and fight. Pay negotiable.】
【—Iron Sword Party】

“Wait.”

Phyllis stopped Hill’s hand, brows slightly furrowed.

“Hill, this notice is too crude. It will attract all kinds of strange people.”

“Then how should we write it?”

“Leave it to me.”

Phyllis took out a sheet of high-quality parchment that carried a faint fragrance. She began writing in elegant yet faintly oppressive script:

【Seeking Elite Companions】

1. Positions: Vanguard, Scout.

2. Strict Requirements:
– Excellent personal hygiene; daily bathing mandatory.
– No detrimental habits (alcoholics and gamblers need not apply).
– Steady personality; must obey orders.
– Priority given to those willing and able to block fatal attacks for the Captain.

3. Benefits:
– High-quality lodging and meals provided.
– Free high-tier healing support.

4. Remark: Anyone harboring improper intentions toward the Captain will bear the consequences!!!

“…Phyllis, isn’t the last line a bit excessive?”

Hill’s mouth twitched as she read the bolded remark.

“This is to prevent anyone from lusting after Hill’s beauty.”

Phyllis said with complete seriousness.

“After all, Hill is so adorable. What if we accidentally recruit a lecher? This is just being cautious.”

“And besides…”

Phyllis pointed at the “daily bathing” clause.

“If they’re going to live with us, I absolutely cannot tolerate poor hygiene. Hill wouldn’t want the tent to reek either, would she?”

Hill imagined the scene and shuddered.

“You’re right. Let’s post it like this.”

And so the elegantly worded yet strangely restrictive recruitment notice was affixed to the most prominent spot on the board.

The entire morning, interviewees arrived in an endless stream.

After all, “free high-tier healing support” was an irresistible lure.

Yet the interview process quickly turned into a disaster…

For the applicants.

Applicant A: a two-meter-tall muscle-bound warrior carrying a greatsword.

Phyllis: “When was the last time you bathed?”

Warrior: “Uh… last month when it rained?”

Phyllis (smiling): “Next.”

Applicant B: a shrewd-looking thief.

Phyllis: “If the Captain discovers a treasure chest in a dungeon with a trap beside it, what would you do?”

Thief: “Obviously disarm the trap first, then split the loot evenly.”

Phyllis: “Incorrect. You should first secure the surroundings, have the Captain retreat to safety, then use your body to trigger the trap. Next.”

Hill: “Hey! Using your body as bait is too much!”

Applicant C: a handsome bard who stared at Hill the moment he entered and immediately began serenading her silver hair in flowery verse.

Phyllis: “…”

She said nothing. She simply crushed the quill pen in her hand.

The sharp snap made the bard shut his mouth instantly.

Phyllis: “We don’t recruit useless people. Especially useless people who only know how to run their mouths. Get out.”

Three hours later.

Hill lay slumped across the table, staring at the completely blank “approved” list in despair.

“Phyllis, at this rate we’ll never recruit anyone in our lifetime.”

“Better no one than the wrong ones.”

Phyllis sipped her black tea leisurely, mood excellent.

She had filtered out everyone too dirty, too cunning, too handsome, or potentially corrupting to Hill.

“Let’s wait a little longer. Maybe someone will appear who’s… a bit slow, but obedient, harmless, and no threat at all.”

Just then—

A small figure peeked furtively around the doorway.

…A cat?

No—a girl with cat ears and a tail.

She wore tattered thief leathers. Her face was streaked with dirt like a little tabby cat. Her stomach let out a thunderous growl.

Her eyes were locked on the plate of pastries beside Phyllis’s hand. Drool was practically dripping from her mouth.