Chapter 19: Scarlet letter paper.

The morning air carried a faint, tense chill.

A pitch-black messenger bird slipped through the window and landed on the dining table of the White Rose District dormitory.

Tied to its leg was a letter sealed with red wax.

In the Adventurers’ Guild, red meant… mandatory conscription.

“It’s probably about the disturbances deep in Howling Mine.”

Hill untied the letter, brows slightly furrowed.

As an experienced adventurer from her previous life, she had already noticed the abnormal mana density in the mine lately.

“Looks like something big has awakened. One party can’t handle it alone.”

“Mandatory mission…”

Phyllis’s hand—currently spreading jam on Hill’s bread—paused for a moment.

She disliked that word.

Mandatory meant uncontrollable, meant chaos, meant swarms of irrelevant people buzzing around Hill like flies.

But she quickly masked the displeasure in her eyes and held the perfectly jam-spread bread to Hill’s lips.

“Since it’s a guild order, there’s no choice. Does Hill plan to go?”

“Of course.”

Hill took a bite, a long-lost sharp glint flashing in her eyes.

“Large-scale subjugation battles like this are the best way to test a party’s true quality. And if we ignore it, monsters could break out and harm civilians.”

“As expected of Hill.”

Phyllis smiled softly and picked up a napkin to gently wipe the crumbs from the corner of Hill’s mouth.

“Since we’re going, we need to prepare thoroughly. We can’t let that filthy battlefield ruin Hill’s mood.”

…

Nine o’clock in the morning, second-floor grand conference room of the guild.

The air was thick with the smell of tobacco and cheap hair oil.

Almost all of Ordis’s top ten parties were present.

Burly, rough men crowded around the long table—some polishing weapons, others talking loudly.

When the Iron Sword Party pushed open the door, the noise dropped into an instant vacuum.

Leading the way was Alyssa in her gleaming silver plate armor, massive tower shield on her back—like a walking fortress.

Behind her came Nya in tight black leather, hood pulled low to minimize her presence.

In the center walked Hill—pure white form-fitting leather armor, black gloves, mithril shortsword at her waist.

And clinging to Hill’s arm, elegant as if attending a tea party—Phyllis.

“Yo! Isn’t that the hot new Silver Waltz?”

A bald, muscle-bound brute with a face full of scars whistled. He was the captain of the veteran C-rank party Warhammer.

“Heard your whole team’s just girls? This big subjugation isn’t playtime. If you piss yourselves in fear, big brothers ain’t got time to change your diapers! Hahaha!”

Crude laughter erupted around him.

Alyssa flushed red with fury, hand gripping her sword hilt, ready to step forward.

“Quiet.”

Hill wasn’t angry.

She merely gave the bald man a cold glance, then walked straight to the empty seat at the conference table.

She pulled out the chair but didn’t sit immediately. Instead, she planted one hand on the tabletop, her gaze sweeping the room.

That posture.

That icy sharpness in her eyes.

She didn’t look like a rookie girl at all—she looked like a battle-hardened commander.

“We’re here to discuss tactics, not shout.”

Hill’s voice wasn’t loud, but it cut cleanly through the noise.

“If anyone thinks we’re dead weight, we can compare kill counts on the battlefield.”

The bald man was choked by that stare. For some reason he felt inexplicably intimidated and muttered as he sat back down.

Hill took her seat.

Phyllis immediately stood behind her, pulling a pristine white velvet cushion from her spatial bag and placing it behind Hill’s back. Then she produced her personal tea set and poured Hill a cup of fragrant black tea.

The seamless, flowing sequence of actions left the surrounding rough men—sipping cold water—staring dumbfounded.

“Alright, let’s get to business.”

The guild master unfolded a massive parchment map.

“The target is the Ogre Lord at the bottom of the mine, along with its three hundred goblin guards. We’ll split into three forces—”

“That’s wrong.”

Hill spoke up suddenly.

She pointed a black-gloved finger at a narrow pass on the map.

“If we attack from here, high-ground archers will flank us. It’s a death trap.”

“Hah? What does a little girl know about tactics?”

A young archer captain sneered and leaned over, trying to get closer to Hill.

“This is clearly a shortcut—”

As he spoke, he reached for the map, body leaning heavily forward. His sweaty frame was about to press against Hill’s shoulder.

Schlick!

A golden quill pen stabbed abruptly yet precisely into the map.

The tip sank deep into the wooden table with a scalp-tingling thud.

It landed exactly one centimeter in front of the archer captain’s finger.

One more inch and it would have pierced flesh instead of parchment.

“Oops, my hand slipped.”

Phyllis stood at Hill’s side, still in a throwing pose.

Her signature saintly smile remained, but her eyes weren’t on the sweat-drenched archer—they were fixed on the ink mark on the map.

“Sir, please speak with your mouth, not your body.”

Phyllis pulled the quill free and—elegantly—drew an invisible red line between the archer and Hill.

“Hill doesn’t like having her light blocked. Also…”

She tilted her head slightly. A cold gleam flashed in her blue eyes.

“Your breathing is too loud. It’s disturbing my Captain’s thinking.”

Gulp…

The archer captain swallowed hard, instinctively shrank back, and silently returned to his seat.

For a moment, he felt like he’d been targeted by a venomous snake.

Hill paid the small incident no mind.

She focused on the map, took the pen Phyllis handed her, and began sketching.

“We should enter through the side ventilation shaft. Let the heavy teams feint at the front—”

As Hill explained—her logic clear, her tactical insight seasoned—the room’s attitude shifted.

Mocking glances turned to surprise, then to genuine respect.

When she reached an exciting point, Hill snapped her fingers out of habit.

“That’s it! With good coordination, zero casualties is possible!”

In that moment she glowed—confident, valiant, radiant.

Phyllis stood behind her, gazing at Hill’s shining profile. Obsession nearly overflowed from her eyes.

So beautiful.

Hill commanding thousands, confident and powerful.

But when she noticed the admiring looks from several young captains around them, Phyllis’s fingers quietly snapped the teaspoon in her hand.

What are you looking at?

Yes, Hill is dazzling—it’s hard not to fall for her.

I really want… to gouge out their eyes.

“Hill, have some tea to moisten your throat.”

Phyllis interrupted Hill’s speech at the perfect moment, holding the cup to her lips.

Using the feeding motion, she subtly blocked the eager gaze of the young swordsman opposite.

“Thank you.”

Hill leaned down without suspicion and took a sip.

“Also, your cloak clasp is loose.”

Phyllis set the cup down and carefully fastened Hill’s collar—up to the very top button, fully covering that long, graceful neck.

“The room’s air conditioning is too strong. Don’t catch a cold.”

Phyllis adjusted the collar, her fingertips lingering for one second on Hill’s throat.

…

After the meeting.

The Iron Sword Party was assigned the crucial flank assault mission.

As they left the conference room, Hill was still musing over the discussion.

“That Warhammer captain was crude, but his terrain analysis was actually pretty solid…”

“Really?”

Phyllis walked beside her, carrying a briefcase full of documents.

“But I saw his eyes were cloudy and his forehead dark. He’s probably… going to have bad luck soon.”

“You can tell that too?”

Hill laughed.

“A woman’s intuition.”

Phyllis blinked.

Earlier, when leaving, she had secretly smeared a tiny amount of laxative powder on the bald captain’s water flask lid.

It would take effect tomorrow on the battlefield.

When the time came, that man who dared mock Hill would probably shit himself mid-fight.

It was only fitting to make his words come true.

Phyllis felt she was being quite kind.

“Right, Hill.”

Phyllis tightened her hold on Hill’s arm and rested her head on her shoulder.

“Tomorrow’s battle will have a lot of people. It’ll be chaotic.”

“Mm, I know.”

“Promise me one thing, okay?”

Phyllis’s voice suddenly became low and sticky.

“No matter what happens, never leave the range of Alyssa’s shield.”

“And… never risk yourself to save members of other parties.”

“Why?”

Hill frowned.

“If an ally is in danger—”

“Because I’ll lose focus.”

Phyllis looked up.

Her blue eyes reflected Hill’s slightly stunned face.

“If you put yourself in danger to save someone else, I might lose control of my magic… and end up blasting the people you’re trying to save—along with the monsters.”

She said it with a smile.

Like a cute little joke.

But as Hill stared into her eyes, the hair on the back of her neck stood on end.

Instinct told her Phyllis was… probably serious.

“…I understand.”

Hill swallowed.

“I’ll prioritize my own safety.”

“Good girl.”

Phyllis rubbed her cheek against Hill’s in satisfaction.

“Then let’s go home. We need to sleep early tonight. I’ll give Hill a full-body pre-battle relaxation massage.”

“Every muscle… needs to be thoroughly relaxed.”

…

At the end of the corridor, the setting sun stretched their shadows long.

Hill’s shadow was tightly wrapped in Phyllis’s, as though melting into one.