After arriving at the dungeon town, Hemin didn't waste any time. His first thought was simple—cash in the loot. He had spent hours fighting, bleeding, and grinding through the lower floors, and the mountain of monster drops in his bag wasn't going to turn itself into money.
Finding the guild building was almost laughably easy. Among the stone-and-wood structures that filled the town, one building stood out like a noble among commoners—tall, wide, and grand enough to make even a noble's manor pale in comparison. The banner of the Adventurers' Guild hung proudly from its highest beam, fluttering in the wind.
"Yup, that's got to be it," Hemin muttered to himself.
The interior was just as bustling as the outside promised. The scent of sweat, iron, and ale mixed in the air—the trademark aroma of tired adventurers who had just returned from a dungeon dive. Several people lounged on sofas and benches scattered across the lobby, their faces carrying the same expression: exhaustion mixed with relief.
A few were bragging about their battles; others simply slumped with a drink in hand, staring blankly at the ceiling.
To an outsider, they might seem lazy. But Hemin knew better.
Killing even one monster—even something as simple as a rabbit-type creature—wasn't easy at the start. It took focus, stamina, and a lot of energy. For most beginners, taking down six or seven of those things in a day was already pushing their limits. Ten would leave them completely drained.
And yet, Hemin thought as he rubbed his wrist, I cut down thirty… maybe forty of them today.
Even with his Level 2 Swordsman passive skill [Basic Stamina Boost], that wasn't something just anyone could do.
He recalled what he'd learned through experimentation: a Level 2 profession offered far stronger base passives than a Level 1. His current stats proved it.
For example, his Basic Strength Boost from the Swordsman (Lv. 2) easily outclassed the one from his Hunter (Lv. 1). The difference wasn't small either; it was the gap between a peasant and a trained soldier.
That alone was enough to show how vital professional progression is in this world. But in Hemin's case… things were different.
Most people could only awaken a single class—maybe two, if fate smiled on them. Hemin, however, could unlock multiple professions as long as he met certain unknown conditions. It was a cheat-like ability that no one else had.
He didn't know how it worked, but he wasn't complaining. It was the kind of overpowered gift that could make even a common man rise to the top—if used right. Leveling them all might take longer, but in exchange, he would grow into something no ordinary adventurer could ever hope to be.
"Slow and steady, huh?" he murmured with a small grin. "Fine by me."
As he walked deeper inside, his eyes caught glimpses of other adventurers chatting—mostly men trying their luck with the female guild workers. The women were dressed in tight-fitting adventurer uniforms designed for mobility.
To a man from Earth, where such fantasy beauty only existed in anime or games, the sight was dangerously distracting.
Hemin had to fight the urge to stare.
Focus, man. Don't be that guy.
He straightened his back and made his way toward the counters. Each adventurer was assigned one based on registration, and his was Counter No. 4.
To his surprise, there wasn't a single person in line. That was a small miracle—the queues here usually stretched long enough to make a lesser man cry.
"Lucky," Hemin muttered under his breath and stepped forward.
"Sir Hemin, welcome back."
A familiar voice greeted him from behind the counter. When he looked up, he saw Emilia—his assigned receptionist—walking out from the staff area, her usual gentle smile on her lips.
"Miss Emilia," Hemin greeted politely.
She was as striking as ever. Short brown hair framed her face perfectly, her bright hazel eyes filled with professionalism and kindness. She wasn't the kind of beauty that turned heads instantly, but there was something comforting about her presence—a girl-next-door charm that drew people in naturally.
It was no wonder she had so many admirers. In fact, she had caused quite a bit of chaos when she first started three months ago. Rumor had it that some adventurers nearly came to blows over who would get assigned to her counter.
The guild master had eventually stepped in and hand-picked a small group of adventurers to be under her management—and by some twist of fate, the old Hemin had been one of them.
Now, standing before her again, Hemin couldn't help but feel that her smile looked even more radiant than he remembered.
"Miss Emilia," he said again, scratching his cheek awkwardly. "If possible, could we use a private room? I've got… quite a bit of loot, and the counter space won't be enough."
For a moment, Emilia blinked, slightly surprised. She tilted her head as if studying him.
Then, with a soft chuckle, she nodded. "Of course. But what's with the 'Miss'? You've never been that formal before. Just call me Emilia—like always."
Her tone was light, teasing even, but Hemin only smiled wryly.
Back on Earth, addressing someone by name—especially a woman—carried a different meaning. He couldn't just casually call someone he respected by their first name without feeling awkward. But explaining that here would probably just sound weird.
So he just nodded. "Right… Emilia it is."
As she led him toward one of the private assessment rooms, Hemin couldn't help but think that this new life—this world of magic, monsters, and dungeons—was starting to feel a little too real.
The private room of the guild was small but cozy—a wooden table stood in the center, surrounded by shelves filled with documents, potion bottles, and appraisal crystals that shimmered faintly in the lantern light.
As soon as the door shut behind them, Hemin unstrapped the large leather pouch at his side and loosened the seal. With a thud and a faint metallic jingle, the table was instantly covered in a mountain of fangs, fur, and assorted monster materials—the loot he had painstakingly gathered from the dungeon.
Emilia, who had been preparing a magic ledger to record his sales, froze. Her polite smile faltered.
"T-That's… quite a lot," she breathed out, her tone caught somewhere between surprise and disbelief.
The quantity was absurd for a first-floor run. The sheer number of fang rabbit drops suggested a reckless hunt, and that realization made her expression tighten slightly.
What was he thinking? she thought, her gaze sharpening. This many kills… Did he throw himself into danger just to impress someone?
To her, it wasn't admirable—it was foolish. Recklessness might look heroic to some, but to Emilia, who had seen too many adventurers die young for glory, it was the exact opposite of courage.
She folded her arms, tone firm.
"Sir Hemin," she said, addressing him with formal crispness, "how exactly did you procure this much?"
The question had a faint edge—not of curiosity, but of reprimand.
Hemin, who could feel the change in her tone, merely scratched his cheek and replied calmly, "They dropped in sets of three. Maybe it's luck, or something tied to my skill. Also… I discovered a new way to fight mid-battle—something that lets me one-hit fang rabbits cleanly. Once I got the rhythm, it just went smoothly. I think I hunted about thirty… maybe forty of them."
His tone was straightforward and honest—no pride, no attempt to boast.
Emilia frowned, but then her expression shifted slightly. A faint blue glow flickered in her eyes—a trace of her priest-class appraisal magic. The soft light shimmered as she observed his face, and her heart skipped a beat when the spell's truth sense gave no negative reaction.
He's… telling the truth?
Her stern demeanor faltered. For a second, she found herself staring directly into his eyes.
"That's… amazing," she said softly before she could stop herself. The words slipped out naturally—genuine awe rather than politeness.
Realizing what she'd just said, she immediately pressed her lips together, looking away as a faint flush colored her cheeks.
Hemin chuckled lightly, rubbing the back of his neck. "It's not that big of a deal. I was just lucky today, that's all."
His voice was calm, modest—completely free of arrogance.
Emilia blinked, caught off guard again. He's so… rational about it.
Normally, whenever she praised someone—even slightly—the adventurers would puff up like peacocks, deluded into thinking she was interested in them. It was one reason she had stopped complimenting people altogether.
But Hemin? He didn't even flinch. No smug grin, no foolish assumption. Just quiet gratitude and composure.
He really has changed… hasn't he? she mused. The Hemin she remembered used to be a little awkward, sometimes careless. But the one standing before her now—calm, composed, and cautious—felt like a completely different man.
Within minutes, Emilia finished assessing the loot using the guild's crystal reader. A faint blue projection flickered above the table, tallying the total worth.
After a bit of mental calculation, she turned the ledger toward him. "All together, this comes to five silver coins," she said, her voice returning to its professional calm.
Hemin nodded and accepted the parchment slip. "Thanks."
But just as he tucked it away, the door burst open with a loud clang!
The noise made Emilia flinch in irritation. She turned sharply toward the intruder, her polite smile gone.
"Mister Alfred," she said icily, "this is a private assessment room. You can't just barge in without permission."
A tall man clad in hardened leather armor stepped inside, his hair messy from battle and his confident smirk unfazed by her tone. "Now, now, Miss Emilia, don't be so cold. I just got an urgent message from the upper floors. Had to deliver it fast, you see."
He flashed an inner layer badge, showing his higher floor access, as if that excused his intrusion.
His gaze slid from Emilia to Hemin. "Brother, I'll have to ask you to step out for a moment. What I've got to say isn't meant for outsiders."
The words were polite on the surface, but the condescension was unmistakable.
Hemin exhaled quietly. He could already tell this "urgent report" had little to do with anything critical—and everything to do with the man's curiosity toward Emilia.
Still, there was no point in causing trouble.
"Understood," Hemin said, his tone neutral. "I'll wait by the counter, Miss Emilia."
The way he said her name—formal and distant—made Alfred's brow twitch slightly. Something about the respectful detachment in Hemin's voice didn't sit right with him.
As Hemin stepped out, Alfred muttered under his breath, "Tch, acting all proper…"
Inside, Emilia exhaled through her nose. "Sir Alfred," she said, her voice clipped, "what is it that couldn't wait?"
"Ah, right!" he said with mock cheer, producing a parchment from his pouch and placing it on the table. "This is the floor-two sales report. The guild master wanted it delivered quickly, so I—"
Her eyes narrowed. The report was ordinary—routine paperwork, nothing urgent. She could read it at a glance.
So that's how it is, she thought tiredly. Just another excuse to see me, huh?
"Sir Alfred," she said softly, but her voice carried a quiet weight, "please refrain from entering private rooms like this again. You're violating guild protocol."
Alfred laughed awkwardly, scratching his head. "Haha, must've been my mistake. Guess I got carried away."
Emilia only sighed inwardly, too professional to push further. After a few more empty words, he finally left.
When she stepped out into the main hall again, she spotted Hemin waiting patiently by Counter 4, arms crossed, his expression calm as ever.
"Sorry for the wait," Emilia said, regaining her gentle smile. She handed him a small pouch of coins. "Here's your payment."
"Thank you, Emilia," Hemin said simply, meeting her gaze with quiet sincerity.
The way he spoke her name—calm, composed, and not flirtatious in the slightest—made her lips curve faintly.
He really is cautious, she thought. And yet… oddly reliable.
"I hope Sir Hemin will continue to be careful," she said softly, her tone warm this time. "And please—come back safely next time."
Hemin smiled faintly and gave a respectful nod. "I will."
With that, he turned and walked toward the exit, his figure disappearing into the golden light spilling through the guild's doorway—leaving Emilia staring after him with a strange flutter in her chest she couldn't quite explain.