Chapter 5: Money?

The church's guest chambers were so unnecessarily luxurious that Cael couldn't sit still.

Five plush beds lined the walls, each one looking like it had been handcrafted by royal nap gods. Pillows like clouds. Sheets probably spun from unicorn hair. Fruit baskets overflowed with grapes that shimmered slightly, and there were enough snacks to feed a polite army.

Cael stood at the center of the room with his arms crossed, eyes darting from bed to ceiling to snack tray like someone expecting the floor to open up and drop them into a dungeon. "Okay. Why is it this nice? What's the catch?"

Thorne, already sprawled out shirtless across one bed like a triumphant gladiator, popped a sparkly grape into his mouth. "I dunno, man. Just enjoy the win. This is what peak performance tastes like."

"It tastes like… cursed fruit, probably," Cael muttered.

"I think it's nice," Alaric said dreamily, floating from bed to bed and testing their bounce. "Kinda like a five-star fantasy hotel. I keep expecting singing furniture to welcome us."

Lys took a seat at the foot of her bed and nudged Cael's arm. "He's going to combust from joy one day."

"I'm going to combust from distrust," Cael replied.

Renna sat cross-legged on the bed nearest the snack table, eyeing a peach suspiciously. "Why does everything here look edible and threatening at the same time?"

"Because we're in a JRPG with no UI," Cael said darkly.

"Alright," Lys said, clapping her hands to get everyone's attention. "Since we're all in one place and no one's trying to kill us yet, Cael and I did some reading. You know. So we're not completely clueless."

"You did what?" Thorne asked, scandalized. "You studied? Voluntarily?"

"Terrifying, right?" Renna added with a grin.

Cael ignored them. "Anyway, the world we're in is called Overmorrowland—don't laugh—and it's divided into several nations. The country we got summoned into is called L'solia, supposedly blessed by their god, Coe."

Alaric was already writing this down on the back of a napkin. "How do you spell that? L-A-S?"

"L apostrophe S-O-L-I-A," Lys corrected, peeking over his shoulder. "You'll forget the apostrophe and summon a fire sprite by accident."

"The classic L'solian mistake," Cael muttered.

Lys continued. "There's also an Adventurer's Guild system. Like, a real one. You register, take quests, earn ranks. All the isekai trimmings."

Thorne perked up. "Quests? Like monster hunting? Raids?"

"Probably," Cael said. "We're not sure how much of it is a trope and how much is actual governance."

"They even have a guild handbook," Lys added. "I skimmed it. There's a dress code and everything. No shirtless duels in the lobby, Thorne."

Thorne scoffed. "Then it's a flawed system."

Renna threw a grape at him. "But still… an Adventurer's Guild, huh? Sounds fun. Dangerous. Very side-questy."

"Yeah, but also possibly our only source of income and info," Cael said, finally sitting down, albeit still tense. "We'll need money. And probably reputation. And disguises. And backup plans."

"...You good?" Alaric asked gently.

"No," Cael replied, deadpan.

Lys grinned. "He's just processing the 'standard fantasy infrastructure' stage of culture shock."

Cael glared. "You're all too calm about this. What if the guild is a front for tracking us? What if the registration process binds us into a soul contract? What if our weapons talk and start judging our life choices?!"

A silence.

Then Alaric held up his glowing sword. "Mine might already be judging me. It made a little hiss noise when I dropped it earlier."

"Mine stabbed the ceiling," Thorne said proudly.

"I threw mine across the room," Renna added. "It disappeared! Super useful for clutter."

Cael blinked. "...We are so going to die."

Lys patted his shoulder. "Not before the side quests, Cael. Not before the side quests."

Cael was mid-suspicion spiral when Lys, ever the voice of calm and barely-restrained exasperation, closed the oversized tome on her lap with a thump.

"We need to register at the Adventurer's Guild today," she said matter-of-factly. "If we want to make any progress."

Everyone collectively blinked at her.

"Progress in what?" Renna asked. "Existential confusion? Because I'm already level 5 in that."

Lys sighed. "Progress in living, Renna. The church is only offering us a place to stay and food. No gold. No clothes allowance. No transportation. Not even pocket change for emotional support candy."

Alaric gasped. "You mean we're freeloading?!"

Cael narrowed his eyes. "Wait. So the chosen heroes—blessed by a god, summoned across dimensions—don't even get a starter pack?"

Thorne scoffed from the bed, still flexing his arms like they were auditioning for their own anime. "I knew this was a low-budget isekai."

Lys gestured broadly. "The priest said they believe in our strength and trust us to find our own way."

"That's a culty way of saying 'you're on your own,'" Cael muttered.

Alaric looked like he'd just remembered a traumatic Steam sale. "Do we have to pass a tutorial first? Or do we just walk in and shout 'quest me!' at the receptionist?"

Renna plucked another suspiciously perfect strawberry from the snack tray. "I dunno, but if they make me fill out fantasy tax forms, I'm revolting."

"We don't have a choice," Lys continued, already putting her boots on like she was five seconds from dragging them by the ear. "The longer we wait, the more behind we'll fall. No money, no intel, no idea how to fight slimes without accidentally setting our own pants on fire—"

"That was one time!" Alaric cut in, deeply offended.

Cael stood slowly. "Fine. But I'm asking so many questions. If they even hint at secret soul contracts, I'm out. I'm becoming a librarian hermit."

"I'll support you," Lys said cheerfully. "From a distance. With snacks."

Thorne yawned and stretched. "Alright, alright. Let's go 'progress.' Maybe I'll get ranked S instantly and skip the line."

Renna rolled her eyes. "You'll get ranked E for ego."

Alaric twirled his glowing sword with more enthusiasm than accuracy. "Adventure awaits!"

"...And possibly taxes," Cael muttered, grabbing his coat. "God help us."

"Coe help us," Lys corrected.

Cael groaned. "We're already assimilating. This is how it starts."

And so, with varying levels of enthusiasm, suspicion, and fashionably tousled hair, the party prepared to face their next great trial.

Paperwork.