52. Unspoken Tensions and the Receptionist

Chapter 52: Unspoken Tensions and The Receptionist

Freya led the way through the grand halls of the mansion, her steps precise and purposeful, the soft click of her boots echoing against the marble floors. Ruko and I followed in silence, the air between us thick with something I could only describe as… unresolved.

She hadn't spoken much since we left the Duchess's presence. Not that I expected her to—but the way she carried herself, the way her shoulders stiffened slightly, the way her fingers twitched every time I got too close—said enough.

I knew why.

It all came back to that night. The night she didn't remember.

Freya had come to me in her father's inn. Her body tense but her intentions clear. It had been a moment of release, of passion—but unlike me, she woke up the next day missing crucial pieces of the memory.

She knew we had slept together. She knew she had wanted it. But the fact that she couldn't recall the details gnawed at her. It had led to awkwardness, to hesitation, to the moment where she rejected me outright when I tried again.

I didn't press the issue.

But now, walking beside her, the weight of that night clung to us like an unseen shadow.

The way her gaze never lingered on me too long.

The way her breath hitched for the briefest of moments when my fingers accidentally brushed against hers.

The way her pace quickened just slightly whenever I moved closer.

She was aware of me. And despite whatever conflict she had inside her, that couldn't be erased.

We walked down a long corridor, the glow of torches casting flickering shadows against the stone walls. The air smelled faintly of lavender and aged parchment—a scent that, I realized, was subtly embedded into Freya's presence.

Finally, I broke the silence.

"You're unusually quiet," I said, keeping my voice light.

Freya didn't glance at me. "And you're unusually talkative."

I smirked. "Just trying to fill the void. You know, since you seem determined to keep things tense."

She sighed, finally stopping at a door near the end of the corridor. She turned to face me, arms crossed. "It's not tense, Kaizen."

I arched a brow. "No? Could've fooled me."

Her jaw clenched. "You're reading too much into things."

"Am I?" I stepped just a fraction closer, watching as her fingers instinctively twitched, as if resisting the urge to draw back—or perhaps resisting the urge to do something else entirely.

For a brief second, her eyes flickered with something—frustration? Uncertainty? Desire?—before she exhaled and looked away. "This isn't the time."

I leaned against the doorframe, watching her. "And when is?"

Her lips pressed into a thin line.

I remember that night perfectly. Every moment. Every sound she made. Every way she moved.

She didn't.

And it scared her.

She reached for the door handle. "Your reward is inside," she said, her voice cool again. "You'll find everything the Duchess promised you."

But I wasn't done.

"Do you regret it?" I asked suddenly.

She froze, her fingers hovering over the handle.

The hallway seemed to grow quieter. Even Ruko, who had been standing a few feet away, shifted slightly, sensing the weight of my words.

Freya turned her head just enough to glance at me from the corner of her eye.

"…I don't know," she admitted.

For some reason, that answer irritated me more than if she had just said yes.

I stepped forward, lowering my voice. "Not knowing means you think about it."

Her grip on the handle tightened. "Drop it, Kaizen."

I tilted my head. "Why?"

She finally turned to face me fully, blue eyes flashing with something sharp. "Because it doesn't matter."

I held her gaze, letting the silence stretch.

She was lying.

It did matter.

The heat in her glare, the tension in her stance—it all pointed to something unresolved. But she wasn't ready to admit it.

Not yet.

With a frustrated breath, she pushed open the door.

"Go inside," she said flatly.

I exhaled through my nose, but let it go. For now.

Ruko followed me in, and I took a brief moment to glance back at Freya.

She was still standing there, fingers curled slightly at her sides, a storm brewing behind her gaze.

Then, without another word, she turned and walked away.

Inside, the room was luxurious—far more than I had expected. A large bed sat in the center, draped in fine silk sheets. A wooden table near the window bore a selection of food and drink, while a side chest contained neatly folded clothing of higher quality than my usual gear.

But the real prize was sitting on the desk.

A heavy pouch of coins.

I picked it up, feeling the weight of it. When I loosened the drawstrings, the golden gleam inside was enough to confirm that the Duchess had been generous.

"Seems you got what you were owed," Ruko commented.

I smirked. "For once, nobles who keep their word."

I tossed the pouch onto the table and stretched, rolling my shoulders. "Once I confirm the quest at the guild, my reputation should jump a few levels."

Ruko's ears twitched in interest. "Planning to take on another job soon?"

I shrugged. "Depends."

On a lot of things.

Freya.

The Duchess's hidden knowledge of Menato.

The artifact I handed over and what they planned to do with it.

Something told me the quest for the Philosopher's Stone was just the beginning of something much bigger.

I would need to stay sharp.

For now, though, I had one last thing to do.

"Let's head to the guild," I said, grabbing my cloak. "Time to make this official."

---

Leaving the mansion, I let the cool night air wash over me. The tension with Freya still clung to my thoughts, but I pushed it aside. There were more immediate matters to handle—like confirming my quest at the guild.

Ruko and I moved through the streets of Torak, the city's nightlife buzzing with its usual energy. Merchants packed up their stalls, while taverns spilled over with drunken adventurers and off-duty guards. The city smelled of roasting meat, ale, and the faint, ever-present scent of damp stone.

I pulled my hood up. The last thing I needed was unnecessary attention before I reached the guild.

The Adventurer's Guild sat near the heart of Torak, a large stone building that was always alive, no matter the hour. As I stepped inside, the familiar scent of wood, parchment, and sweat hit me. The main hall was filled with adventurers drinking, boasting about their conquests, or arguing over rewards.

And at the center of it all—behind the large wooden desk—sat Gwen.

Gwen, the guild receptionist with her infamous amber-colored bosom, was leaned forward over the counter, scanning some paperwork. Her golden-brown hair cascaded over her shoulders, framing her mischievous eyes. The neckline of her dress—modest by most standards but scandalous in its own right—was as distracting as ever.

She hadn't noticed me yet.

I leaned on the counter. "Miss me?"

Gwen's eyes flicked up, and for a second, genuine surprise crossed her face. Then, like slipping into a well-worn cloak, she smirked.

"Well, well, well," she drawled, placing a hand on her hip. "I thought we lost you to the wilds. Or worse, to a woman."

I grinned. "You wound me, Gwen. You think a woman would be my downfall?"

She leaned forward, elbows pressing into the counter in a way that made sure my eyes had somewhere very interesting to land. "I think if anyone's downfall involves warm bedsheets, it's yours."

Ruko sighed beside me. He muttered something I couldn't quite hear.

Gwen ignored him, eyes flicking over my frame. "But seriously, Kaizen. You were gone a while. That ruin quest must've been rough."

I gave her a lazy shrug. "Had a few obstacles."

She arched a brow. "That so? Well the City Lord himself was involved."

I kept my expression neutral. So, she doesn't know about the Duchess.

Gwen tapped her chin. "A simple ruin quest doesn't usually get that kind of attention. Care to share details?"

I leaned in slightly. "Depends."

Her eyes narrowed playfully. "On?"

I smirked. "How much you miss me."

She scoffed, rolling her eyes. "You're incorrigible."

"Persistent," I corrected. "And you still haven't answered."

She hummed as if in thought. "Well, I did keep your usual seat at the bar empty. Just in case you walked in with that ridiculous swagger of yours."

I placed a hand over my chest. "Gwen, you do care."

She snorted. "You're not that special. Just entertaining."

I chuckled but didn't push further. Instead, I reached into my cloak and retrieved the folded slip of parchment—the official quest completion paper. "Here. Do your thing."

Gwen took it and scanned the details, her expression shifting slightly as she read. "Hmm… Well, looks like everything checks out." She glanced at me over the paper. "No gruesome injuries this time?"

"Define gruesome," I teased.

Her gaze flickered over me again, slower this time, assessing. "You do look a little worse for wear," she admitted. "But I'll allow it. Give me a moment to confirm your reward."

She turned, heading toward the records room. As she walked away, I caught Ruko giving me a look.

"What?" I asked.

He just shook his head. "I don't know how you do it."

I smirked. "Charm, Ruko. It's a gift."

He snorted. "More like a curse."

I chuckled, leaning against the counter as I waited for Gwen to return. The mission was officially done, but something told me this was only the beginning of a much bigger game.

And I intended to play it well.

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