Chapter 11: The Hungry Wildcat.

The afternoon sun had grown languid, slanting through the windows of the Adventurers’ Guild and illuminating every mote of dust floating in the air.

Hill lay slumped across the recruitment table, chin resting on folded arms, staring listlessly at the blank registration sheet in front of her.

“Looks like we’re going home empty-handed today.”

Phyllis, seated beside her, showed not the slightest trace of impatience.

She lifted her delicate bone-china teacup and took an elegant sip of black tea.

As though this noisy guild hall were not a chaotic tavern, but the secluded garden of a royal palace.

“Patience, Hill.”

Phyllis set the cup down and reached over to gently tuck a stray silver strand behind Hill’s ear.

“Excellent teammates are like rare herbs—they only appear when fate allows.”

Just then—

Two fluffy, dust-caked triangular ears poked up over the edge of the table.

Immediately after, a pair of bright green vertical pupils emerged, locked unblinkingly on the plate of butter cookies sitting beside Phyllis’s tea.

It was a cat-eared beastkin girl who looked no older than fourteen or fifteen.

She wore mismatched, heavily patched leather armor that clearly didn’t fit her small frame.

Her black hair was a tangled bird’s nest. Her face was smeared with dirt and some unidentifiable greasepaint.

“Grrrrrrumble…”

A thunderous growl from her stomach shattered the silence.

Hill blinked, then sat up straighter.

Her previous life’s experience told her that beastkin who looked this pitifully down-and-out often possessed astonishing survival instincts and agility.

And…

Judging by those starving, glowing eyes, this was probably the type who would be very agreeable as long as food was involved.

“Want some?”

Hill offered a friendly smile and picked up a cookie, holding it out directly.

“Here, take it.”

The cat-eared girl’s eyes widened like saucers—as though she had witnessed a miracle. Her grimy little paw shot forward in a blur.

But someone was faster.

“Snap!”

A pale hand holding a folded fan lightly yet precisely intercepted the dirty paw before it could reach the cookie.

There was no force behind it—just an immovable barrier.

“No, Hill.”

Phyllis’s voice was soft and gentle, yet carried an unmistakable tone of instruction.

Hill froze.

“Huh? It’s just one cookie…”

“It’s not about the cookie.”

Phyllis withdrew the fan. Without even glancing at the cat-eared girl, she drew a spotless white handkerchief from her sleeve and gently draped it over the plate of pastries, as though isolating a source of contamination.

“First—as Captain, you must not hand out charity so casually. It devalues your kindness and breeds entitlement.”

Phyllis turned her head. Her gaze settled coldly on the now bristling, growling girl whose food had been denied.

Her smile remained perfectly serene.

“Second… her hands are filthy.”

Phyllis’s eyes lingered on the blackened crescents beneath the girl’s fingernails. Her nose wrinkled almost imperceptibly. She instinctively leaned a fraction closer to Hill, as though shielding her from some drifting odor.

“If she touches food like that, she’ll get sick. What if she passes something to Hill?”

Hill glanced at the girl’s hands, then at the dainty pastries, and had to admit Phyllis had a point.

“Sorry. I didn’t think it through. Then…”

“Leave it to me.”

Phyllis smiled and took control of the conversation.

She picked up a cookie—but not with her bare hand. She held it by the corner through the snow-white handkerchief.

Standing, she looked down at the crouched cat-eared girl.

“What’s your name?”

Her voice was light, yet carried almost no warmth.

Like asking a stray dog its breed.

“Nya… Nya.”

The girl’s gaze followed the cookie. She swallowed hard.

“Um… can I have it? Nya hasn’t eaten in three days nya!”

“Nya, is it?”

Phyllis did not hand over the cookie. Instead she raised it slightly higher.

“You may eat—if you earn it. There is no such thing as a free meal. What can you do?”

“Nya can pick locks! Disable traps! Run very fast! Nose is super sharp!”

Nya spoke at lightning speed. To prove herself, she even did a clumsy somersault in place.

“As long as there’s food, Nya will do anything!”

Hill’s eyes lit up.

Lockpicking, trap disarming, scouting…

Exactly the scout skills they desperately needed.

“That sounds promising—”

Hill began.

But Phyllis still hadn’t released the cookie.

She narrowed her blue eyes slightly and asked the next question:

“So—if we encounter a powerful monster in a dungeon, what will you do?”

“Run, of course!”

Nya answered without hesitation.

“Can’t win? Run! Staying alive is most important nya!”

Hill couldn’t help laughing.

“Haha, very honest. Yeah—staying alive really is the most important thing.”

But in that instant, the curve of Phyllis’s lips froze for half a second.

The air seemed to drop several degrees.

Run first when facing danger?

A piece of trash that would abandon Lady Hill at a critical moment had no right to exist.

Phyllis was about to crush the cookie in her hand—her signal for dismissal.

But from the corner of her eye she caught the spark of interest in Hill’s expression.

Hill clearly liked this little creature.

…Tch.

Since Hill liked her, then a different approach would do.

An unruly stray dog simply needed to be properly leashed.

Phyllis’s fingers relaxed. The cookie she had been about to destroy remained intact.

But she did not give it to Nya.

Instead, right in front of her, Phyllis dropped the cookie into the nearby trash bin.

“Nya?!”

Nya let out a tragic yowl, heartbroken enough to cry.

“Sweets like that won’t fill your stomach.”

Phyllis reached into her spatial pouch and withdrew an oilpaper packet.

When she opened it—

Inside lay a strip of premium wind-dried magical beast jerky, exuding an intensely savory aroma.

Nya’s pupils turned to slits. Her tail shot straight up.

“Listen carefully, Nya.”

Phyllis held the jerky—not with the handkerchief, since it was wrapped—but close enough that Nya could smell it.

She leaned down, bringing her lips near the filthy little ear, speaking in a whisper only the two of them could hear.

“If we encounter danger, will you run first—or protect the Captain first?”

Nya stared at the jerky. Her brain contained only meat.

“Protect Captain! Nya will stand in front! As long as there’s meat!”

“Good girl.”

Phyllis nodded in satisfaction and tossed the jerky over.

“Waa… munch munch…”

Nya didn’t even catch it with her hands—she snapped it out of the air with her mouth and devoured it, purring with pure bliss.

Phyllis straightened. She drew a second handkerchief from her sleeve and meticulously wiped the fingers that had touched the jerky.

“Hill, it seems we’ve found our scout.”

When she turned back to Hill, all previous coldness melted away. She was once again the gentle, dependable vice-captain.

“She looks a bit simple-minded, but children like this become very loyal once their stomachs are full.”

Half an hour later—first-floor public bath of the guild.

Hill had originally suggested taking Nya back to the dormitory to bathe, but Phyllis had refused in the strongest possible terms.

Reason being…

Until she was thoroughly disinfected, that creature would not set one paw inside their home.

That place was Hill’s sacred resting ground.

And so the current scene unfolded.

“Noooo! Nya hates water! That’s pig-boiling temperature nya!!”

Miserable cat yowls echoed from the bathroom.

But Phyllis showed none of the gentleness she had used with Hill—no warm water, no essential oils, no soothing touches.

Right now Phyllis wore a full-body waterproof apron of unknown origin that covered her from neck to ankle. She even wore a mask covering her mouth and nose.

On her hands were thick rubber gloves that reeked of disinfectant.

One hand pinned Nya by the scruff of the neck—like holding a chicken about to be slaughtered—while the other wielded a stiff-bristled brush loaded with powerful industrial soap, scrubbing mercilessly across the girl’s body.

“Hold still.”

Phyllis’s voice came muffled through the mask—cold as ice.

“You’re carrying at least three kinds of parasites and five strains of mold. If I don’t scrub them off, I’ll shave every last hair from your body.”

The word “shave” was clearly more terrifying than boiling water.

Nya froze instantly, trembling as she submitted to being handled.

Phyllis worked quickly—borderline brutally.

She scoured under fingernails, inside ear flaps, around the base of the tail.

This wasn’t bathing. This was industrial derusting.

“Listen carefully.”

During a brief rinse, Phyllis leaned close to one dripping cat ear and whispered so only Nya could hear.

“From now on, you will never touch Hill’s clothes with unwashed paws.”

“You will never jump onto Hill’s bed.”

“You will never lick Hill’s face.”

“And if I ever find out you’ve passed fleas to Hill…”

Phyllis slammed the brush against the tiled wall with a sharp crack.

“I will turn you into a rug.”

Nya shuddered violently. Her tail clamped tight between her legs. She nodded frantically.

Animal instinct screamed at her…

This sweet-smelling big sister was ten thousand times more terrifying than any dungeon monster.

When Nya finally emerged from the bath, she was transformed.

Her formerly matted black hair now fell soft and fluffy. The dirt-caked face revealed healthy wheat-colored skin. Large eyes peered around timidly.

Though she still wore the same tattered leather armor, she at least looked like a proper adventurer now.

“Wow! What a huge change!”

Hill had waited outside the whole time. Seeing this, she couldn’t help exclaiming.

“Phyllis, you’re amazing! You actually got this little wildcat sparkling clean!”

“It took quite a bit of effort.”

Phyllis had already shed the terrifying biohazard gear and returned to her immaculate nun’s habit.

She smiled as she peeled off the rubber gloves and casually tossed them into the nearby incinerator.

Flames roared up. The gloves that had touched Nya’s filth turned to ash.

Phyllis took out a bottle of fragrance mist—Hill’s favorite citrus scent—and sprayed herself thoroughly.

Only then did she walk to Hill’s side, naturally linking arms with her and nuzzling her cheek against Hill’s shoulder.

“Because Hill likes things clean.”

Phyllis gazed at the shivering Nya with eyes as gentle as water.

But that gentleness sent another chill down Nya’s spine.

“As vice-captain, making sure the Captain’s tools are properly cleaned is part of my duty.”

Hill looked at Phyllis with genuine emotion.

“You worked so hard. Tonight when we get back, I’ll give you a shoulder massage.”

“Really?”

Phyllis’s eyes lit up instantly—pure, heartfelt delight.

“Then it’s a promise. I want Hill to massage for a long time.”

She took Hill’s hand and walked outside, steps light and happy.

Nya followed cautiously behind, maintaining a strict three-meter safety distance, not daring to cross the invisible line.

Phyllis did not look back.

A satisfied curve graced her lips.

Excellent.

Hierarchy established.

“By the way, Hill.”

“Hm?”

“While I was washing her, I checked. The child’s physical condition is actually quite good—very durable. Next time we hit a trap, we can send her in with confidence.”

“…Phyllis, sometimes the way you talk really sounds like a ruthless employer.”

“Oh? I’m sorry. I just want to protect Hill so badly…”

“Y-Yeah… I guess so…”

“Yes. I really, really want to keep Hill safe.”