The 3.5 seconds of system-induced stun felt like an eternity to Kenji and a baffling micro-nap to Elara. When her senses returned, the first thing she registered was the heavy thunk of her prized forging hammer on the cobblestones. The second was the burning heat in her cheeks.
"What… what did you just say?" she stammered, her voice losing its husky edge and gaining a note of flustered confusion. She wasn't angry, not yet. She was too bewildered. Compliments in her line of work were usually about the quality of her steel, not the metaphorical fire in her eyes.
Kenji, no longer possessed by the spirit of a fantasy Casanova, felt a wave of cold panic wash over him. "I-I'm so sorry! I don't know what came over me! It just sort of… fell out of my mouth! Please don't hit me with that hammer!"
He bowed frantically, his forehead nearly scraping the ground.
Elara blinked, the redness in her cheeks deepening. She bent down to retrieve her hammer, her joints creaking in protest. "Hit you? Boy, if I had a copper piece for every young fool who tried a stupid line on me, I could retire. Yours was just… strangely poetic." She eyed him with deep suspicion. "Who are you? I've never seen you around here."
Before Kenji could invent a plausible backstory, the system chimed in, its blue panels a welcome—and terrifying—sight.
[Tutorial Complete! First Main Quest Issued!]
[Quest: The Blacksmith's Burden]
[Objective: Earn a place to stay by proving your usefulness to Elara.]
[Background: Elara's husband passed six months ago, and her apprentice ran off last week with a traveling merchant's daughter. She is handling all the forging, customer service, and chores by herself. She is three days from total burnout.]
[Reward: +200 EXP, A place to sleep for the night, Elara's Trust +20]
[Failure Penalty: Labeled a 'Suspicious Poet.' All MILFs in the immediate vicinity will be wary of your advances.]
Kenji's blood ran cold. Suspicious Poet sounded even worse than his current predicament. He had no money, no skills (besides a creepy compliment and… dishwashing?), and nowhere to go. This wasn't just a quest; it was a lifeline.
He straightened up, his mind racing. "My name is Kenji. I'm… new in town. I'm looking for work. Any work. I'll sweep floors, carry water, polish armor… anything."
Elara hefted her hammer, testing its weight. "I don't need a sweet-talker, I need a striker. Someone who can handle a sledgehammer for ten hours a day. You look like a strong breeze could knock you over."
She wasn't wrong. Kenji's arms were more accustomed to a keyboard than a forge. But his eyes, guided by his [Discerning Eye for Elegance] skill, noticed details beyond her tough exterior. He saw the dark circles under her eyes, the slight tremor of exhaustion in her hands, and the mountain of unwashed plates and mugs visible through the open doorway of her workshop.
An idea sparked. "You're right," he said, surprising her with his honesty. "I can't swing a sledgehammer. But you're a master blacksmith, and a master's time is too valuable for menial chores." He gestured toward the chaotic workshop. "Let me handle the small things, so you can focus on the fire."
He then focused his will on the glowing icon in his inventory.
[Use [Skill Book: Flawless Dishwashing]?]
[YES / NO]
He mentally screamed YES! A warm light flowed from the panel into his mind, filling it with an encyclopedic knowledge of soap-to-water ratios, optimal scrubbing patterns, and the profound art of the streak-free rinse.
Elara snorted, a disbelieving smile playing on her lips. "The small things? Boy, I have a week's worth of greasy plates in there. You'd be scrubbing until next Tuesday."
"Let me try," Kenji insisted. "Just for an hour. If you're not satisfied, I'll leave and never bother you again."
She stared at him for a long moment, her hazel eyes searching his. His [Aura of the Respectful Son] was subtly working its magic, projecting an air of earnest sincerity that was hard to dismiss entirely. With a heavy, weary sigh, she relented.
"Fine," she grumbled. "One hour. The well is out back. Don't break anything."
Kenji entered the workshop's small living area and was met with a scene of organized chaos. Tools and plates shared the same table. A pile of laundry sat in a corner. It was the space of someone who had no time for anything but work and sleep.
He rolled up his sleeves and got to work. But this wasn't the clumsy washing of his old life. The [Flawless Dishwashing] skill guided his hands. They moved with an unnatural speed and grace. Caked-on grime yielded to his touch. Each plate was left gleaming, each mug spotless. He organized them on a rack to dry with geometric precision. It wasn't just cleaning; it was art.
Elara, hammering a glowing piece of metal on her anvil, kept glancing over. Her powerful, rhythmic strikes began to slow as she watched him. No one had ever cleaned with such… intensity. What should have taken an hour was done in twenty minutes. The entire kitchen space was transformed—spotless, organized, and gleaming.
Kenji wiped his hands, feeling a strange sense of accomplishment. He turned to her. "Is there anything else I can do, ma'am?"
The hammering stopped. Elara wiped a bead of sweat from her brow with the back of her arm, leaving a new smudge of soot. She looked from his earnest face to her sparklingly clean kitchen, and back again. The suspicion in her eyes had softened, replaced by a deep, profound exhaustion and a flicker of something else. Relief.
"The name's Elara," she said, her voice softer than before. "And you can start by chopping that pile of firewood. My back's been killing me."
[Quest Objective Updated!]
[Objective: Prove your usefulness to Elara. (In Progress)]
[Elara's Trust +5]
Kenji picked up the axe. It was heavy and unwieldy, but he didn't mind. For the first time since arriving in this strange new world, he felt like he might actually belong. He wasn't a hero, but he was a helper. And for Elara, the overworked blacksmith with fire in her eyes, that was more than enough.