The First Request

The Mercenary Guild was exactly as I had imagined it would be.

The air was thick and stifling, carrying a funk reminiscent of a school sports club’s locker room. They must camp out for days without bathing for work, so I suppose it’s only natural, but the lack of hygiene is appalling.

“There it is. That’s the smell. Takes me back,” Fritz said, taking a deep, appreciative breath for reasons beyond my comprehension.

I, on the other hand, wanted to leave as soon as possible.

Yet, I seemed to be the only one grimacing. Everyone else acted as if the atmosphere were perfectly normal. It wasn’t just the smell that bothered me; discarded clothes and armor were strewn across the floor, dust bunnies had colonised the corners of the room, and empty liquor bottles rolled across the tables.

One might call it "rugged," but to me, it was simply slovenly.

Doesn't anyone clean this place? A guild receptionist, perhaps?

Usually, these stories featured a beautiful girl behind the counter—someone who might take pride in the workspace. I glanced toward the counter where requests were handled.

Naturally, there was no beautiful girl. In fact, there wasn't anyone there at all.

“Um, where are we supposed to take the requests?” I asked.

“See the bulletin board? You just grab a sheet and bring it over. Though, this late in the day, I doubt there’s anything decent left.”

He was right. The papers pinned to the board looked so ancient I could only assume they’d been ignored for months.

“There really isn't much here,” I noted.

“That’s why everyone is loitering. They’re waiting for new ones to be posted.”

So they aren't just idling; they’re camping the board.

As the thought crossed my mind, a woman who appeared to be a receptionist emerged from the back with a single sheet of paper. I didn't miss the way her face twisted in a brief, subtle scowl as she surveyed the room.

“Seriously, wouldn't it be better if you just cleaned this place up?” I asked.

“Don’t make it sound so easy,” Fritz countered. “This is years of accumulated filth. It’s not going to just—”

While Fritz was mid-sentence, I aimed my palm at the nearest patch of grime and unleashed a high-pressure blast of Water Magic. The filth was stripped away in a heartbeat, revealing the original surface.

Of course, drenching a wooden building isn't ideal. I immediately followed up with Fire Magic, flash-drying the area.

“Well, that’s a start, isn't it?”

“You really have a knack for using magic for the most mundane tasks, Yuri,” Fritz said with a sigh.

“It’s a tool. Might as well use it for something productive, right?”

“Fair point.”

As Fritz and I shared a laugh, the receptionist approached us.

“Um... excuse me, who are you?” she asked.

“I’m Yuri. I’m just here with Fritz.”

“P-please! Would you be willing to accept a Nomination Request from me?!” she pleaded, grabbing my hands and looking up at me with watery eyes.

If I were a man starved for female attention, that look probably would have finished me. Unfortunately for her, I was currently a child. I wasn't about to be swayed by a practiced pout.

“Hey, look at that. Is she giving that kid a Nomination Request from Mari-chan?”

“Damn it... I’ve never even had one from her...”

“Isn't he just an E-Rank? Wait, is he even a Mercenary?”

“Hold on—isn't that the Dragon Slayer who became famous in the neighboring Kingdom of Inraku?”

“Are you serious?! That kid is a Dragon Slayer?!”

The Mercenaries were whispering, but their voices carried quite clearly. This is awkward. The Dragon Slayer they’re looking for is Fritz, not me.

“I’m not actually a Mercenary,” I told her.

“I don’t care! It has to be you! You’re the only one!”

The phrasing made it sound like a marriage proposal. I wasn't the type to misunderstand the situation, but I couldn't say the same for our audience. I could practically see the other Mercenaries clenching their fists, weeping metaphorical tears of blood. The air grew heavy with a sudden, sharp prickle of bloodlust.

Fortunately, with the receptionist standing right in front of me, no one was stupid enough to actually charge.

“Look, I’ll listen to the details, but I can’t promise I’ll do it.”

“That’s all I ask! I want you to clean this Mercenary Guild! Please, I’m begging you.”

“Ah...”

I suppose I can’t blame her. If the mess bothered me this much as a visitor, it must be hell for someone working here every day. Not to mention the very real risk of some plague breaking out in these conditions.

“If I do this, I’m going to be thorough. Is that okay?”

A half-hearted job would just result in it getting dirty again within a week. If I was going to do it, I had to treat it like a total rebirth.

“I-is that alright? Oh, but a request of that scale... the costs might be...”

“In that case, you may use the guild's funds.”

A slender man wearing glasses stepped out from the back office.

“Master?! Are you sure?”

“Of course. Even I find the current state of affairs unbearable. If it can be improved, I won't pinch pennies. I’m counting on you, young man.”

Since I now had the official request from the Master of the Mercenary Guild himself, there was no turning back.

“Understood. I accept the Grand Renovation of the Mercenary Guild.”

“...Yuri, weren't you supposed to be on vacation?” Fritz asked with a wry smile. “Fee is going to scold you again.”

I didn't answer. My mind was already racing, calculating exactly how I was going to tear this place down and build it back up again.