The awkward silence that followed my pyful jab hung in the air like a fog. Thick, lingering, and impossible to ignore. It wove itself into the quiet rustle of wind through the branches and the rhythmic crunch of dried leaves and twigs beneath our boots.

  I could feel it clinging to the backs of my heels, dragging behind us like an unwanted specter. No one dared speak, at least not at first. Maybe they thought I was angry, or maybe they were still reeling from the realization that I could hear every single word they had whispered about me.

  Either way, the silence stretched on, and I was beginning to wonder, somewhat grimly, if we would trudge the entire way back to town in this stiff, unnatural quiet. But then, mercifully, a throat cleared, loud and deliberate, like someone striking a bell to ward off ghosts.

  “I guess we should introduce ourselves,” came the voice of the axe-wielding girl, stepping up beside me with a confidence that belied the previous tension.

  Her weapon, easily taller than her torso, bounced slightly with each of her brisk strides, the worn leather strap creaking over her shoulder.

  “I’m Nielle. No, not Neil—Nielle. Don’t ask me why my parents thought a girl needed a name that sounds like a grizzled old dwarf, I’m still mad about it.” Her tone was half compint, half ughter, and her grin was wide enough to cut through any lingering awkwardness. There was a kind of raw honesty in her presence, unpolished but tough like a favorite old hammer. “I’m the frontline brawler of our party, and sometimes the voice of reason. Though usually I’m the voice of ‘let’s hit it and see what happens.’”

  I couldn’t help but raise a brow at that, an amused smile tugging at the corner of my lips. “You do strike me as someone who lets her axe do the talking.”

  Nielle let out a full, hearty ugh, tossing her short, choppy hair back like she’d just been paid the highest compliment. “Guilty,” she admitted, cpping a gloved hand to her chest. “But hey, it’s gotten us out of more trouble than it’s gotten us into… probably.”

  “I’m Kael,” said the next voice, quieter, more distant.

  I gnced back to see the rogue-like figure trailing a few steps behind us, the twin daggers at his hips gleaming faintly under the dappled light filtering through the canopy. He moved like a shadow that had learned to walk. Always alert, always calcuting.

  His eyes, sharp and vigint, scanned the edges of the trail as if expecting the forest to lunge at us any second. “Scout, rogue, and part-time monster tracker. I’m the one who spotted the wyvern’s blood trail this morning.” His voice was calm, almost clinical, but not unfriendly. There was a certain restrained respect in the way he spoke, not just toward me, but toward the task at hand. Like someone who’d seen too many surprises to let his guard down easily.

  “Wynne,” said the next voice, softer still, like a breeze threading its way through the leaves. The mage didn’t look up, her hood casting a delicate shadow over her face, but I caught the flicker of her expression when she spoke, quiet curiosity tinged with something that might have been regret. “I do support magic and identification. Sorry if I overstepped earlier. I didn’t mean to pry. It’s just that… well, your presence doesn’t exactly match your stats.” When she finally did gnce up, her amber eyes met mine with a thoughtful stillness, like she was reading a riddle etched into gss. “And I like puzzles.”

  “Don’t we all?” I replied gently, my smile more genuine this time. There was no hostility in her curiosity, only a desire to understand. I could live with that.

  “Annnnd I’m Rell,” came the final, most exuberant introduction, punctuated by a loud hop as he vaulted over a moss-covered log to nd beside the group. He looked far too chipper for someone who had just encountered a near-death-tier monster, but maybe that was part of his charm… or his coping mechanism. “Resident sharpshooter, comic relief, and emergency pack mule. If it needs carrying or compining about, I’m your guy.” He patted the rge pack slung across his back, which jangled with gear and half-eaten provisions.

  “You forgot self-appointed party mascot,” Nielle added dryly, shooting him a side gnce without breaking stride.

  “Please,” Rell said, pcing a hand dramatically over his heart. “I’m clearly the heartthrob.”

  Kael let out a short, incredulous snort, possibly the first time I’d heard a real reaction from him that wasn’t tinged with suspicion or cold calcution.

  Wynne sighed without looking up. “He says this at least twice a day. Don’t encourage him.”

  “I was being subtle,” Rell argued with mock offense.

  “You were eating a sandwich while whisper-yelling ‘fox girl,’” Wynne deadpanned.

  “You don’t know that.”

  “I literally do.”

  The group slipped into gentle bickering, like falling into the rhythm of an old song, each line teasing and well-worn. It was the kind of back-and-forth that could only come from familiarity, trust earned through shared battles, campfire stories, and too many nights watching each other’s backs. And as the teasing continued, I let myself rex into it, just a little.

  Nielle eventually turned back toward me, pushing her axe slightly higher with a practiced flick. “Anyway, yeah. That’s us. We’re not part of any big-name guild or anything, just a mid-tier party called Amberveil. Mostly C+ rank stuff like fort patrols, vilge escorts, beast clearings. This wyvern was supposed to be our ticket to a B- rank promotion.”

  I blinked, slightly taken aback. “Oof. Sorry for stealing your thunder.”

  To my surprise, she just shrugged with a lopsided grin. “Honestly? I’m just gd none of us got iced. That thing could’ve turned us into campfire ashes if we tried to take it head-on. You showing up when you did was… well, lucky. For us, anyway.”

  “Still…” Kael said, his voice low, like he was speaking more to himself than to the group. His gaze drifted toward me again, eyes narrowing slightly as if trying to peel back whatever veil he thought I had wrapped around myself. “You’re not an adventurer?”

  I shook my head, a small smile tugging at my lips. “Not officially. I’m more of a… wandering freencer. Doing side quests, harvesting cabbage, cleaning cockroaches and maybe occasionally sying a wyvern.” I gestured vaguely toward the horizon. “You know. Normal level five stuff.”

  Rell gave a low whistle. “Freencer, huh? I dig it.”

  For a while, we walked in a comfortable quiet, the forest beginning to thin out, repced by wider spaces where sunlight spilled across patches of soft grass. The gold-streaked sky hinted at the te hour, and the breeze grew warmer, no longer cooled by the heavy canopy. With every step, the tension from earlier faded just a little more, repced by the simple rhythm of walking together.

  “You’re a good team,” I said eventually, gncing at Nielle. “That much is obvious.”

  She huffed, adjusting the strap of her axe again. “We try. Been together a couple years now. Still figuring out how not to bicker every other fight. Wynne’s good at stopping us from doing anything too dumb. Usually.”

  “Do you always narrate each other’s secrets out loud, though?” I teased, raising an eyebrow with a smirk.

  Kael groaned audibly, dragging a hand down his face. “Only when Rell forgets we’re not in a tavern.”

  “Hey!” Rell said, clearly unfazed. “I was being subtle!”

  “You were literally shouting between bites,” Wynne added without missing a beat. “It was like watching someone try to perform espionage while juggling cheese.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “I do, Rell. I do.”

  Their voices rose in lighthearted argument again, but this time it felt less like a storm on the edge of breaking, and more like distant thunder. I found myself listening not out of suspicion or worry, but just… curiosity. They were loud, fwed, a little ridiculous, but undeniably human. And despite everything, I didn’t feel like an outsider anymore. Not quite.

  For now, at least, I didn’t mind walking in their footsteps.

  "Amberveil, huh?" I said, letting the name roll off my tongue like the st note of a song. "That's a cute name."

  Nielle looked over at me, her grin twitching upward again. “Right? I picked it.”

  Rell immediately gasped in theatrical betrayal. “You picked it? I thought we voted!”

  “We did,” Nielle said with a shrug, “but all your suggestions were terrible. ‘Crimson Howl’? ‘Deathstalkers’? You sounded like a bunch of edgy teens writing their first novel.”

  “I stand by Midnight Venom,” Rell huffed, arms crossed. “It’s mysterious.”

  “It sounds like a rejected cologne,” Kael said dryly without looking up from the trail.

  Wynne chuckled under her breath, still walking at her own pace behind the group. “We chose Amberveil because it felt soft, but not weak. Like a sunset before a storm.”

  I nodded slowly, my smile lingering. “It fits you all, honestly. There’s a warmth to it, but also something just beneath the surface.”

  “That’s the idea,” Nielle said, stretching her arms behind her head. “We wanted a name that sounded less like ‘we’ll gut you for gold’ and more like… I dunno, people you could trust to save your cat.”

  “Assuming the cat’s not cursed,” Wynne added lightly.

  “Oh, it’s always cursed,” Rell said with a solemn nod. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned in this line of work, it’s that cats are either ancient royalty or secretly demons.”

  I gave a soft ugh, tail twitching just enough under the cloak to make me adjust it. “That might expin why I get along with them so well.”

  When the four star Mashiro Catgirl Baseball Star banner dropped, that one time, in that cursed summer event with a 0.75% rate. I didn’t even hesitate. My thumb hit that 10x roll button like it was a reflex. Like I’d trained for that moment all my life. I remember sitting on my bed in the dark, clutching my phone with both hands, whispering prayers to the RNG gods, vowing to give up caffeine or touch grass if they just let her show up.

  First roll? No dice. Second? Trash. Third? Sparkly trash. But on the fourth, she appeared. Bat in hand, ears perked, mid-wink under stadium lights. I think I cried. I genuinely think I wept that day. No regrets. Not even when I checked my bank app afterward and saw the damage. It was like I’d sold my soul to some velvet-pawed demon in thigh-highs and a crop top.

  It was almost like I sold my soul to the cat demon girl or something. Maybe I did. Maybe this whole otherworldly situation was karmic payback for that one time I spent my rent money chasing a summer variant. I wouldn’t even be mad. I'd just nod and say, “Baseball, huh?”