11 - No! Don't look at me like that...

It was almost noon when Dexter finished buying the ingredients for the lunch Gridlock had requested. Both his and Stella's mules were loaded with ingredients and refined crafting materials, leaving the poor animals panting as they trudged along on trembling limbs.

When they reached the portal leading back to Dexter's starting area, he turned to Stella, who was following him nonchalantly.

"Try to follow me. If I don't see you after a few minutes, I'll come back and give you some food for the day," Dexter said.

"But… am I even allowed to pass through that mist? Last time I tried to return to the blacksmith, there wasn't any mist like this," Stella asked.

"I don't know… that's why we're trying. If you can come, great. If not, that's fine too. At least I won't be called a pervert by that old man."

With that, Dexter walked into the portal. Once he and his mule emerged on the other side, he didn't waste any time killing the two bandits.

After waiting for a minute, Dexter saw the portal fluctuate as Stella emerged with her mule.

'So, the condition must be being in a party.'

'Now I can have my personal maid.' He smiled brilliantly.

"Why are you smiling, FlyHighLikeAButterfly…?" Stella asked as she dismounted her panting mule.

"Nothing… Wait, how did you know my IGN—or more exactly, my alias?"

"It's in the party list, obviously. And it's nothing like DND, which you told me earlier…"

"Oh… So that's how it is. Don't call me by that name—just call me Dex." 

"Is that your real name, or just another persona of yours?"

"It's short for my name. Don't ask for more—I'm not giving AI any of my personal info…"

"There you go with the 'AI' again! I told you, I'm a princess—you should address me by my noble title! Why are you so rude?"

Dexter sighed.

"Hey… Let's not waste time on this nonsense. I need to cook lunch. Follow me."

…

Dexter pushed open the creaky door of the hut.

"Hey old man, I'll use the kitchen. What do you want?" he said, finding Gridlock slumped in his chair like a disinterested deity, his chin resting on his palm as he teetered on the edge of sleep.

"Anything you do... just not fish, I'm getting sick of it..." Gridlock cracked one eye open.

"...and who's this girl you're bringing to my house?"

"Mr. Blacksmith! How are you? I haven't visited you for the past few weeks because I was not allowed to come back here—" Stella brightened as she skipped inside.

"And who are you? I don't even know you..." Gridlock interrupted, squinting at her. He jabbed a gnarled finger at Dexter.

"Hey brat, come here... who's this crazy woman you brought with you?"

"I'm Stella, Mr. Blacksmith... you taught me how to make weapons, remember?" she stammered, her smile faltering. Her lips trembled into a pout, eyes glistening.

"Bah! I just met you now, how should I know you?" Gridlock scoffed, waving a dismissive hand.

"This girl's lunatic," he muttered, as if shooing away a particularly delusional fly.

…

Dexter finished cooking and served Gridlock and Stella numerous dishes.

'At least this looks like rice,' he thought as he placed the boiled corn on the table.

Stella nibbled at her food, tears streaming down her face as she alternated between crying and smiling like a distraught clown. She still couldn't accept that the blacksmith—who had mentored her when she first arrived in Eldrion (a parallel timeline in the starting area)—no longer remembered her. Yet despite her sorrow, she found solace in Dexter's cooking.

Gridlock stared at her with his usual expression of contempt.

'This girl really is insane. Where the hell did Dexter even find her?'

His gaze then shifted to Dexter, who was happily devouring his fried chicken.

'What a perfect pair—an idiot and a crazy woman.' The thought nearly choked him as he suppressed a laugh.

"What, old man?" Dexter asked between bites. "You're laughing like there's something wrong with this handsome face of mine."

Even Stella couldn't help but cough violently at Dexter's so-called "joke."

…

["Ert!" Party Invitation to the Target is Not Allowed]

It was late afternoon when Dexter sent a party invite to Gridlock, only to frown in frustration.

'Why can I send a party invite to Stella but not to Gridlock? Is it because he can't leave the starting area? Well, thinking about it, having the "Deity of All Equipment" in your party would be totally OP…'

'Screw balance—I'd rather have one "Deity of All Equipment" than five hundred guild members.'

"Hey, old man, are you going to teach me how to salvage gear now?" Dexter asked.

"Change of plans. We'll do it tomorrow. Go build your house first—I don't want that crazy woman sleeping here in my house…" Gridlock pointed at Stella, who sat in the corner murmuring incomprehensibly.

Then Gridlock smirked—more like an evil god plotting something sinister.

"You'll also need it for tonight… Make sure it's soundproof so I don't hear any of your—" He stopped mid-sentence. There was no need to continue; even Dexter understood.

"Fuck you, old man! Are you calling me a molester? What the hell—don't corrupt my innocent mind!"

"Now you're cursing at your master?" Gridlock laughed. "Tomorrow, I'll make you regret those words!"

"That doesn't count! I'm sorry, Master… Please forgive your handsome apprentice. See? I got this face from you…" Dexter forced his best puppy-dog eyes.

"My apprentice, not my son. If you were my kid, I'd hand you over to the goblins. With a face like yours, I'd even question if my wife cheated on me—if she were still alive."

"Oh, really?! If you were my father with that face, I'd rather—just kidding! Hey! Don't! That's sharp! Fuck!"

Laughing, Dexter bolted out of the hut as Gridlock chased him with a sword.

…

Dexter spent the afternoon constructing a house—large enough for both him and Stella, but thanks to Gridlock's helpful influence, it ended up with just one big room… and a single king-sized bed.

'It's not like I had any malicious intentions toward her,' he told himself, wiping sweat from his brow.

'Building a house is just… really damn hard, okay? Especially when your so-called "master" keeps "accidentally" misplacing the extra lumber.'

He glanced at the finished structure—more of a rustic cabin than a proper home—and sighed. The walls were sturdy (mostly), the roof didn't leak (yet), and the bed… well, it was definitely big enough for two.

Not that he was planning anything.

Gridlock's smirk from earlier flashed in his mind.

'That old bastard knew exactly what he was doing.'