Chapter 107: Coat Rack

She reappeared in the forest, sitting beneath a torrential downpour. Blanche lifted her head and let the rain wash away every trace of her anxiety until the familiar blue notification window appeared before her.

She had gained two points in Wisdom and two more in Intelligence. Everything else remained unchanged.

The second window, however, immediately caught her attention.

Tenth Level: Dungeon – 1 Player

Objective: Rid the world of vermin. Eliminate the Goblin Chief.

Time Limit: One hour after entering the Dungeon.

Quest Rewards: One special skill and one normal skill.

Unique Gift unlocked.

Title unlocked.

Blanche practically vibrated with excitement.

Literally.

She had been sitting for less than thirty seconds and was already tapping her foot against the ground with all the restless energy of a child who had just been promised a gift, only to be told they would have to wait a few more hours.

It was unbearable.

At last, a glimpse of what awaited her.

At last, something tangible.

For days, she had been collecting information one drop at a time—cryptic hints, mysterious implications, incomplete revelations, and answers that somehow generated three new questions apiece.

Epsilon seemed to have turned secrecy into an Olympic discipline.

The Otherworld, at least, was more straightforward.

For once, she felt as though she could finally see part of the road ahead.

A real lead.

Something that wasn't a riddle wrapped inside a mystery and hidden inside another riddle for good measure.

Her imagination was already running wild.

She pictured a monstrous quest granting even more monstrous powers.

Then the rational part of her brain—that unsung heroine who spent her life repairing the damage caused by her enthusiasm—stepped in.

She knew perfectly well that she couldn't go there immediately.

Unfortunately.

Responsibilities still existed.

Even in fantasy worlds.

Even when every fiber of your being wanted to rush off and explore the unknown.

Which was deeply unfair.

What was the point of discovering parallel universes if you still had to follow a schedule?

Blanche let out a dramatic sigh.

The kind of sigh an actress performing in a Greek tragedy might have considered a little excessive.

Then she crossed her arms.

Uncrossed them.

Crossed them again.

Impatience was practically itching beneath her skin.

What was she supposed to do now?

Fortunately—or unfortunately, depending on one's perspective—someone quickly interrupted her existential crisis.

Phénix appeared not long afterward.

As always, he seemed capable of materializing out of nowhere with the irritating ease of creatures who had complete mastery over their surroundings.

Blanche immediately looked up.

And for a brief second, all her frustration vanished.

Because she knew that expression.

That little smile.

That gleam in his eyes.

Rauõr asked me to let you know that he saddled me up, and now you owe him one.

Blanche blinked.

Then burst out laughing.

Phénix had just informed her, with the utmost seriousness, that a Viking warrior had prepared a giant demon for her personal transportation.

The Players were one thing.

But Rauõr?

Her life became a little more absurd every day.

And the worst part?

She was genuinely starting to find it perfectly logical.

Phénix's grin widened when he heard her laugh.

Which never boded well.

You're the first one to arrive.

Ah.

That explained everything.

Or almost everything.

At least as much as one could explain a Viking saddling a two-meter-tall demonic black panther for his mistress.

Blanche immediately felt her heart race.

The excitement returned at full speed.

Because being first meant she could enjoy a few precious moments before having to share her attention with a crowd of curious onlookers.

Her mood improved instantly.

As if by magic.

Which once again confirmed that her brain operated according to highly questionable criteria.

A few seconds earlier, she had been on the verge of an existential breakdown.

Now she simply wanted to run and join Phénix.

Adolescence really was a strange disease.

Or perhaps it was the Otherworld.

Both explanations seemed equally plausible.

You do know I work in a bar, right? This is usually when I wake up...

Blanche ground her teeth.

He was not going to start too.

If she wanted to go to sleep at chicken o'clock, that was her business.

In any case, she climbed onto his back and set off.

When she arrived at the barracks, her surprise was complete.

Aaron was standing in the entrance hall, absorbed in the contemplation of his scales.

As for Blanche, she became absorbed in contemplating him.

He was facing away from her.

And what a back it was.

Wrapped in a thin sweater that outlined every line of his physique, it offered itself shamelessly to her gaze.

Not to mention everything lower down, confined within cargo pants that outrageously emphasized his many assets.

“Hi,” she said, reluctantly tearing her gaze away as she unloaded her belongings.

Planted firmly on both feet, Aaron turned only his head when he heard the door open.

The movement was lazy.

Natural.

And yet it was enough to destroy what remained of Blanche's self-control.

He smiled at her.

A real smile.

Not one of those polite expressions he offered strangers.

Not the amused half-smirk he wore when gently teasing someone.

No.

A radiant smile.

Warm.

The kind of smile that completely transformed his face.

His eyes softened immediately.

The features usually marked by responsibility seemed lighter somehow.

And that damned dimple appeared.

Blanche instantly felt her cheeks ignite.

Traitors.

Honestly.

She had faced demons, monsters, Vikings, and multiple existential crises in the span of a few weeks.

Yet a simple smile from Aaron was still enough to turn her brain into soup.

Wonderful.

She quickly looked away before he noticed her reaction.

Or rather, before he noticed it any more than he probably already had.

Given her legendary luck, she was likely red all the way to her ears.

To buy herself a few moments of relief, she took her time removing her coat.

Then even more time folding it properly.

Then a few extra seconds studying the entrance with completely unjustified attention.

Anything rather than looking at Aaron.

Because whenever she looked at him for too long, she immediately remembered why she was in love with him.

And that always complicated things.

So she turned her back to him with what little dignity she could muster.

Or at least she tried.

Because her attention was soon drawn to a new detail.

Then another.

And another.

Aaron had not been idle during his absence.

Clearly.

The entrance had changed.

Subtly.

But enough to be obvious if you knew the place well.

Sturdy coat racks had been installed along the wall.

Not ordinary ones.

They were crafted from dark wood, carefully carved, their curves subtly echoing the organic shapes of the draconic scales already decorating the entrance.

Blanche stepped closer.

And discovered the detail that finally made her smile despite herself.

Each hook bore a name.

Their names.

Carved directly into the wood.