The next day, I realized I had a problem.
Said problem was that I only owned a single pair of clothes—the ones I was currently wearing.
While they didn't reek, they certainly didn't smell fresh. They smelled of... well, me. Not exactly the worst scent, but not one you'd want to present yourself in for your first day at a new job. Especially when said job involved helping out in a pharmacy, of all places. My understanding of such places were colored greatly by the modern-day hospitals and pharmacies, but I reckoned cleanliness mattered even here.
Still, I made do. I bathed, then went over my clothes meticulously—flicking, snapping, and dusting off every speck of dirt I could see. The creases were impossible to smooth out without an iron, and I had a grand total of zero of those, but my pants fared better. They were made of a tougher material, more dust-resistant, and built to survive longer wear without a wash. I counted that as a small victory.
Hestia and I left the church together. She had her own first shift today and looked... surprisingly enthusiastic. She smiled at me as we walked through the Plaza District. Just before we parted ways, she handed me a few valis.
"Buy something for lunch, alright? Since we didn't eat breakfast today. I'll probably get mine at the stall itself. Make sure you don't skip it!"
She said, trying to sound stern, but I caught the edge of worry behind her words.
"I will. Thank you, Hestia."
"I'm just making sure my Familia is taken care of as best as I can."
I could only smile at that gesture. I could see from where the 'Hestia is Bestia' sentiment rose in the fandom.
We split paths at the Tower Plaza, Hestia disappearing into the sea of people heading to the more commercial part of Orario while I turned toward the western blocks, where the streets were quieter, and the buildings showed their age more honestly.
-x-
The Miach Pharmacy was nestled in a side alley, set between a rundown cloth shop and a two-story house. The sign above the door was simple: a worn wooden plaque with faded letters spelling "Miach's Pharmacy" in a careful, humble script. A tiny bell hung above the doorway, old but still managing a soft chime as I stepped inside.
The scent hit me first—herbs, dried and fresh, blended with something sweet and earthy. A calming, pleasant smell that tickled the back of my throat in a weird but good way. It felt less like a pharmacy and more like an herb shop.
The interior was slightly dim but cozy. A few wooden shelves lined the walls, stacked with a humble amount of glass jars and baskets filled with everything from rolled-up herbs to neatly labeled vials. Some were glowing faintly, I realized, while others looked downright suspicious—like they were just waiting to explode or sprout legs.
The space looked… like it wasn't in its heyday. There were empty spaces, carefully positioned to not appear as so in glances, but clear to anyone who paid even a semblance of attention.
Still, there was a lived-in warmth to it all, like the room itself exhaled peace.
Behind the counter stood a tall man in his early thirties, with shoulder-length dark-blue hair and an easygoing kind smile. He wore a long greyish-brown robe, casual and slightly frayed at the cuffs, and had a calm presence that radiated like sunlight through a clean windowpane.
"Ah, you must be Ethan. Welcome to my shop."
He said, offering a gentle smile with his handsome face.
"Thank you, sir. Yes, I am. You must be Lord Miach?"
I asked, stepping forward a little nervously. My instincts from my old world kicked in—it felt just like walking into a job interview. And if past experiences were anything to go by, those never went well. I'd had a few, and none of them ended with me actually getting the job. Hopefully, this time would be different.
Receiving an affirmation, I continued.
"Good Morning, sir. I'm here for the job. I'm assuming the Guild let you know about me?"
I asked, keeping my tone polite and profession and giving just a hint of curiosity.
He nodded.
"No need to be so formal and stiff, child. And indeed, I was informed about you by one of the Guild messengers, but I also met your Goddess yesterday who talked about you. Hestia had nothing but good things to say."
That made me blink.
"She… did?"
Hestia came to Miach? I mean, I knew they were friends, so it made sense she'd visit him when she said she was going to meet her fellow gods and goddesses. But still… she hadn't mentioned it when she came back yesterday. In fact, she didn't say much at all. I didn't ask either, more out of politeness than anything else, even though I'd been curious. The only thing she did tell me was that none of her connections had agreed to help yet—but she hadn't given up trying.
Then again, I hadn't exactly been in the best state of mind yesterday. I'd spent hours spiraling, trying to make sense of my current situation—what it truly meant to exist here. I went too deep down the philosophical rabbit hole, questioning everything: my purpose, my identity, even the nature of reality itself.
It had been... exhausting. And frustrating. Coming to terms with the fact that there was no way back, only forward. No pause button to let me catch my breath and slowly come to terms. This world wasn't going to wait for me to adjust—it would keep moving, whether I was ready or not.
And let's not even get started on my Falna.
God, what the fuck was that?
It was on my back, and I couldn't feel it physically, but when I'd checked it in the mirror yesterday, I'd nearly gagged. It looked… all sorts of wrong. Like it was some sort of alien parasite. It reminded me a little of Venom, the Symbiote from Marvel. But looking twisted, corrupted, and thankfully very much not a sentient alien. It was honestly something you'd expect from a cursed artifact in a horror game, not a supposed bad response to receiving divine blessing from a goddess.
Eugh.
Since then, I'd been trying not to think about it too much. Honestly, the fact that Hestia and even Hephaestus reacted so mildly to it almost made me more uneasy. That thing? I wouldn't touch it with a ten-foot pole, and it was on me. Thank the gods it was on my back—out of sight, out of mind, at least most of the time. But the knowledge that it was there still sat like a weight in the pit of my stomach.
So yeah, there was a lot I was dealing with at the time. Prioritizing survival and stability was the best I could do for now.
"She did, indeed."
He chuckled, motioning for me to sit on a nearby stool.
"I believe she was worried. It's her first time raising a child of her own, you know."
His tone was light, but I caught the hidden weight beneath it. Just like Hephaestus, Miach seemed to care for Hestia.
"Yeah."
I said slowly, scratching my cheek.
"I know it means a lot to her. I've been trying to handle my own weight and not be a burden. She's too kind and caring, but it feels bad to rely on her when…"
I stopped, realizing I was about to say things about Hestia in front of one of her god friends.
"What I mean is… I needed this and I'm very grateful for this opportunity and will be honored to work here, if you'll have me, Lord Miach."
The god studied me for a quiet moment, then offered another warm, genial smile.
"Hestia must be truly proud of you."
He said kindly.
"You're a good and honest child. I'm sure you'll do well here."
He brought his hands together with a soft clap, more a gesture of encouragement than celebration.
"Let's make sure you succeed. I'll teach you what I can about how things work here, and my child will be around too—whether I'm present or not—to guide you if you need it. Currently, Naaza is out buying ingredients for the shop, but she'll be here in a short few hours. Don't worry about picking everything up all at once, child. It'll come to you, in time."
-x-
The rest of the early morning went by in a blur of instruction. I had been to the shop a bit early, unsure of what time to arrive as there was no fixed time given, but thankfully, that wasn't an issue.
Miach walked me through the basics: where everything was stored, how to recognize different herbs, what jars to not open unless I wanted a nasty rash, and how to keep the shop tidy. He was patient, never once snapping even when I asked the same question twice or mistook peppermint root for ghostleaf. Which, for the record, are very different. One helps with digestion. The other induces hallucinations when ingested as it is but is an ingredient in a different benign potion that helps in relieving pain from cuts and bruises.
After about an hour and a half, I heard the soft creak of a door opening from the back, followed by footsteps.
"I'm back."
Came a voice—soft, vaguely disinterested, and carrying a sleepy tone.
I turned as the speaker walked in: a girl with long dull brown hair, dog ears twitching slightly, and a fluffy tail, same color as the hair, swaying behind her. She had on a skirt and a lopsided shirt—short sleeve on one side, the other sleeve long enough to hide her entire right arm, with a glove covering the rest of it.
Her expression barely changed when she saw me. Just a faint blink, followed by a slow once-over.
"Newbie?"
She asked Miach flatly.
Miach smiled with his usual warmth.
"Naaza, this is Ethan. He'll be working with us from today. He's Hestia's child."
Naaza's gaze drifted back to me, unreadable and sleepy looking. She seemed to want to fall asleep, judging by her face. But it could just have been her resting face.
I knew certain characters in Danmachi had those droopy eyes.
"Ah."
Was her only word, her voice still flat. Giving me a curt and lazy nod, she was already moving past me to the counter.
As far as first impressions went, I don't think I made any lasting impressions with her, good or bad. I wasn't sure what to feel about her attitude.
"Don't worry about her. She may act curt, but she's kind of heart."
Miach reassured me, but I couldn't say I truly believed in his words.
Naaza's arrival also marked the beginning of the day's first wave of customers.
Miach told me to hang back and observe for now, just to get a feel for how things worked. So, I did.
And what I observed was… eye-opening.
Naaza didn't just sell potions—she worked her customers. Her tone was soft, almost sleepy, but every word was calculated. One moment she'd be gently reassuring, the next she'd let out a sigh that somehow made people feel guilty for not buying the more expensive option. It wasn't exactly dishonest—just... flexible in morals. A trait that made a salesperson a great salesperson.
I watched her sell the same anti-fever draught to two different people—one got it for the listed price, the other overpaid nearly 1.5 times as much. And they both left thinking they got a deal.
Curious, I had asked her about it.
"Are we allowed to do that? To overcharge some customers over others. Wouldn't they figure it out and stop coming back?"
Naaza gave me a sideways glance as she stacked some empty vials.
"You're thinking like a customer. The people I sold it to don't have any connections and are regulars in my shop. They can afford to spend Valis on the potions and only attempt to haggle for the sake of it."
She murmured and the conversation died down once I realized I had nothing to reply to that other than nodding in affirmation.
Sales was most definitely not going to be my strong point. I could just tell from looking at Naaza playing customers like a fiddle.
There wasn't exactly a rush of foot traffic in the Pharmacy, but the flow came in irregular waves—short bursts of activity followed by long, quiet stretches. During one of those lulls, Miach stepped out to run some errands, leaving Naaza in charge of the shop.
That's when she decided to put me to work.
Her instructions were clear, if curt, and she watched my hands like a hawk—quietly correcting me whenever I hesitated or reached for the wrong ingredient. Occasionally, she'd mutter things like "I'm not cleaning up a blown-up cauldron today" or "Don't touch the blue one unless you want your fingers to go numb."
-x-
Working with Naaza was… well, educational.
She didn't waste time on pleasantries. No chit-chat. No forced smiles. Just curt, precise instructions, delivered in a voice that sounded perpetually half-asleep but somehow still managed to drip with passive-aggressive disapproval when she wanted to show it. Honestly, it was more draining than if she'd just yelled.
"That's not how you prepare nightshade."
She muttered once, yawning mid-sentence as she took the knife from my hand.
"Unless you want it to explode in someone's face."
Still, she knew her stuff. Way more than I did, obviously—and beneath the sleepy monotone and biting sarcasm, she was actually a decent teacher. Not warm like Miach, not exactly kind either, but she never insulted me for messing up. Never lashed out. Just corrected and moved on, expecting me to keep up.
It was also very clear that this place was her domain. She didn't flaunt it, but it showed in the way she moved—confident, practiced, efficient. She caught every mislabel, every loose cork, every herb stored even slightly wrong like it was a personal affront. Even Miach, divine as he was, stepped back and let her run the floor when things got busy.
And despite how quiet and stoic she usually was, I saw her smile once. Just once. A small, subtle thing—when a customer complimented the shop's consistency.
It vanished as quickly as it came, but it was there. Hard to notice if I wasn't paying attention.
What was more pronounced was the swaying of her tails behind her back. That seemed to be more honest and indicative of her mood.
Throughout the time I worked with her, I had glanced at the said fluffy tail every now and then and make a guess at her mood from it. It was easier to do so than looking at her stoic face and guessing how she felt.
-x-
Later in the day, after the last customer left and the sun began to dip below the city rooftops, Naaza and I sat in the small backyard of the shop on a small bench, letting the mild breeze carry away the scent of potions and drying herbs.
I glanced at her.
"Hey, Naaza?"
I called out, using her first name without any honorifics. I had learned during the day that she was actually a few years younger than me, just 18 to my 20s. So, I had started using a more informal tone with her and she didn't seem to mind.
Naaza didn't look at me, but she tilted her head slightly—enough to show she was listening.
"What's the Dungeon like? I've heard about it from others, but never from someone who's actually been down there. You're a Level 2, right, so you've probably been to the dungeon quite a lot."
At the time I asked this question, I didn't realize that my question could have been insensitive. I knew of Naaza and Miach from the anime, but I only vaguely remembered what their backstory was. I had forgotten at the moment why Naaza was the only member of Miach's Familia and why they were struggling to make the ends meet.
So, I didn't immediately understand when Naaza stayed silent after my question. For a moment, I thought she didn't hear me. Then she spoke, her voice low, distant.
"Cold. Brutal."
She stared forward, eyes unfocused.
"It's not some grand adventure into a majestic place filled with treasures waiting to be just grabbed like some stories generally make it sound. It's where you go to struggle and die… Or lose something important. Every second down there, you're surrounded by monsters that don't hesitate. They don't care how skilled you are, how smart you think you are. They tear you apart the same way.
Everyone pays a price in that place… and not everyone comes out whole… or at all."
She didn't tremble, didn't cry, when she spoke those morose words that seemed to be coming from personal experience—but something in her posture changed. Subtly. Like a shadow tightening. She seemed to have this aura around her that made it hard to continue the questions.
I swallowed, my mouth somehow feeling dry. That had been a rather vivid and grim—but very much real—view from someone who had gone and seen the real deal and come back to tell the tale. I didn't dare think she was exaggerating for the sake of it, or to tell some grandiose story of her triumphant return from it. No, it was a cold, mechanical, and very much rational outlook on what the dungeon was.
The ecchi harem anime didn't delve on such things too deeply but in real world, and with people who weren't the protagonist blessed with a healthy dose of plot armor, this was the true nature of the dungeon that they had to regularly deal with.
"… I see."
I said quietly, eyes lowered to the grass as a slow, creeping realization settled in—I might've asked something far more personal than I'd meant to. I didn't fully understand it then, not really, but with my vague metaknowledge and the state of Miach Familia as I'd seen it, I could hazard a guess. The pieces were there… and they were starting to fit together.
"You don't."
She replied, her finality laden words pulling me out of my funk and making me look back at her.
"Huh?"
I looked at her quizzically.
"But you will. Eventually. If or when you enter it."
Then she stood, brushing her hands on her skirt, and walked to the shop without another word.
I quietly stared at her retreating back, noticing her tail drooping, no longer moving.
Yeah… I had definitely touched a sore nerve there with my thoughtless question, hadn't I?
"For your sake… I hope you never do."
The words spoken were faint, almost like they were a small gust of wind, but I heard them, nonetheless. I couldn't tell if they were intended to be heard by me or not, given how quietly they were spoken, but I did and was left introspective as a result.
With those parting words, she entered the store, leaving me alone to my thoughts.
-x-
That night, I left the pharmacy sore, tired, and with a small pouch of Valis in my pocket. My hands were stained from some herbs I was working with, my back ached due to sitting for a prolonged periods of time, and my mind was spinning with thoughts.
But my chest felt… steady somehow, proud even. Like I'd done something real today. Something of substance.
The work was hard, I wouldn't lie. Learning about the intricacies of potion making (and selling said potions) was most certainly going to take time. I couldn't even remember the majority of what I had learned today. I had felt a bit overwhelmed by all the new information, to be honest. Miach was right in the end. It'll come in time. Probably months before I was actually useful in the shop and not just a snot-nosed intern.
At least they didn't treat me the same way most interns like me were treated back in my world by companies. I had heard horror stories of what some interns went through— all for spare change, or even for nothing at all, sometimes.
The pay here… it wasn't great. Especially not after 500 Valis were subtracted from it to pay the Guild's fee. But it was something. I could survive with it.
I also had a feeling that Naaza might stab me with a spoon if I messed up the labels again next time. Or maybe I was overthinking that part. She looked annoyed and she wasn't exactly flaunting or threatening me with grievous bodily harm but the way she was carrying that spoon while she observed me fumbling honestly caused the hair on the back of my neck to rise up in instinctive fright… Yeah, I was going to have to pay more attention to labelling from next time.
…
But still, at the end of it all, it felt honest and gratifying, to carry the earnings of my hard and honest work.
I glanced up at the sky—twilight painted in violet and orange.
Slowly and steadily. I will make it work.
For my own sake, and for Hestia who had shown me her full support until now.
-x-