The Guild office was too bright.
Toji squinted slightly as he stepped inside, the sterile lanternlight casting sharp angles across the stone walls.
The scent of parchment, ink, and polished metal mingled in the air. Adventurers lined the counters, some arguing, some pleading, most just tired.
He didn't belong among them. Never did.
But here he was.
Leaning against a far column, arms crossed, was Eina Tulle.
Her eyes locked onto him the moment he entered. She strode over with the determination of someone who'd been waiting too long and had no more patience to spare.
"You're late."
Toji glanced up at the hanging clock. "I'm early by my standards."
She didn't laugh.
"Guild policy says Adventurers past Level Two shouldn't go alone to the lower floors unless they're prepared to handle party-level threats."
"I'm not part of a Familia," he replied evenly.
"Which is exactly why you're on thin ice." She crossed her arms. "You've already caused enough attention as it is. The Loki Familia's been asking about you. So has Freya."
Toji's jaw tightened. "Let them ask."
"Don't be dense. The gods aren't like people. They fixate."
"I'm not interested in politics."
Eina sighed. "That's the problem. Look, just humor me. For this trip, take a supporter. It'll make the Guild look better, and you might not die alone in a pit."
Toji exhaled slowly. "I don't need—"
"I already assigned her."
He looked up sharply.
A small figure hovered awkwardly near one of the benches, eyes wide beneath a hood far too big for her frame.
A backpack the size of her torso sat beside her, bulging with supplies and clinking with gear.
"Her name's Liliruca Arde," Eina said quickly. "She's... reliable. Quiet. Knows the Dungeon. Works cheap."
Toji stared.
Liliruca didn't meet his gaze.
A chisel of memory scraped at the edge of his mind, rain-soaked alleys, the stink of copper and rot, a boy no older than ten rifling through corpses for scraps.
The same hunched shoulders. The same wary distance in her eyes.
He said nothing. Just turned and walked out.
Lili scrambled after him.
They entered the Dungeon in silence.
Toji took the lead, as always. His footsteps were soundless, weight balanced, gaze flicking from wall to ceiling with practiced calm. Lili trailed behind, clutching her oversized pack.
She didn't speak for the first floor. Or the second.
By the third, she cleared her throat. "Um... what's your name, sir?"
"Toji."
"...Just Toji?"
He didn't answer.
They descended further.
The monsters were light, Goblins, occasional Kobolds. Nothing worth a real threat. But Lili watched the way Toji moved.
The way he didn't just fight, he dissected. Disarmed. Executed. No flourish, no shouting, no wasted effort. Like a man built to kill.
Her plan had been simple: take the job, act helpful, then slip some of the drop items into her pouch when he wasn't looking. She'd done it before. Dozens of times.
But this one...
She didn't try.
By the sixth floor, they paused at a rest point.
Lili slid down the wall, chest heaving. "You... you don't talk much, huh?"
Toji wiped monster blood off a new blade he'd looted. "Nothing to say."
She looked down. "You ever... work with people before?"
Toji's hands froze.
"Yes," he said after a moment. "Not all of them end well."
Silence stretched.
"....They die?" she asked quietly.
Toji didn't answer.
Lili bit her lip. "Sorry."
He looked at her then. Not harshly. Just... looked. Like he was seeing something familiar beneath her words.
"What Familia are you with?" he asked.
She flinched. "Soma."
Toji didn't respond, but something in his eyes cooled.
They resumed.
The monsters were stronger by the ninth floor.
A War Shadow lunged from the darkness and was cut down mid-leap before Lili even registered its presence.
She saw it then, in full, how he fought without thinking, like the idea of death didn't even register anymore.
He reminded her of someone long gone.
By the time they reached the tenth, she was limping.
"Stop," Toji said.
"I'm fine."
"You're slowing down."
She sat, wincing. "I can keep going."
He tossed her a potion.
She stared. "You... paid for this?"
"Guild gave me extras."
That was a lie.
She drank it anyway.
On the eleventh floor, a pair of Dungeon Lizards ambushed them from above.
Toji impaled the first before it touched the ground. The second nearly reached Lili.
Toji's blade sailed past her ear and split the lizard's skull before it landed.
She trembled slightly.
"You alright?" he asked.
"...Yes."
His eyes lingered.
They climbed back shortly after. Toji moved without pause, but Lili stumbled now and then. He slowed, just a small bit, but enough for her to keep pace.
...
Outside, under the orange twilight of the setting sun, she finally spoke again.
"Why didn't you say anything?"
He glanced at her.
"I was going to steal from you," she said. "That was the plan. It's what I do."
"I know."
She blinked.
"I saw the way you handled your bag. The way you checked your surroundings. You weren't subtle."
She looked down, shame burning across her face.
"I'm sorry."
"I'm not your judge."
"....Then why didn't you report me?"
Toji looked out toward Orario's sprawl. The tower loomed in the distance, ever-hungry.
"Because I was like you once."
She turned to him, startled.
He didn't elaborate.
Later, at the Hostess of Fertility, they sat near the back.
Toji didn't usually eat here unless forced. Too loud. Too many eyes.
But tonight, he motioned her to a seat and dropped a few valis on the counter. "Whatever she wants."
Lili stared. "You're buying me dinner?"
"You earned it."
"I didn't do anything."
"You survived."
She picked at her food quietly, glancing at him now and then.
"I don't get it," she said. "You're strong. Stronger than anyone I've seen. But you're alone."
"So are you."
She lowered her gaze.
"I thought power meant no one could hurt me anymore," she whispered.
"It doesn't."
She nodded.
He rose first.
She followed him to the door. The night air was cooler now, crisp.
Lili looked up. "Will you... ever take a supporter again?"
He paused.
"Maybe. Maybe not. I'm better working alone"
She smiled, just barely.
"Thank you, Toji."
He gave a faint nod, and then he was gone, coat trailing behind him as he vanished into the darkened streets.
She watched him go, then turned and walked toward her own darkness.
It didn't feel quite so heavy tonight.
...
The sun crept lazily over the roofs of Orario, its golden rays spilling across cobblestone streets and morning vendor stalls.
The city stirred with its usual rhythm, adventurers heading toward the Guild, merchants calling out their wares, the scent of freshly baked bread curling through alleyways.
Toji didn't care much for any of it.
But for once, he wasn't heading for the Dungeon.
His steps were unhurried as he moved through the western district, hands in his pockets, his coat hanging loosely off his shoulders.
No pack. No weapons. No weight to carry except his own thoughts.
The aftermath of the previous day still clung to him, Liliruca's timid footsteps behind him, her muttered lies, and the too-familiar stench of desperation masked beneath a smile.
He hadn't said a word to her after they reached the surface.
She didn't expect thanks, only silence, and he'd given it to her.
But something about her lingered in his thoughts.
She reminded him of when he was a kid.
Thin, hungry, waiting for the world to swallow him whole so he wouldn't have to fight anymore.
But the world never obliged.
And so, he kept fighting.
Now, with nothing demanding his attention, he wandered.
Past the Guild, where he gave Eina a wide berth, not because he didn't see her standing outside with a folder in hand, but because she'd spot him and start nagging again.
And he didn't have the energy to dodge a second assignment.
Instead, he turned into a quieter street and headed east, toward a place he didn't visit often, but knew he could find peace.
The Hostess of Fertility sat just ahead, nestled in the corner of a wide plaza.
It was early, too early for adventurers to start drinking, too early for rowdy laughter or brawls.
But the doors were open, and the scent of something warm drifted out with the breeze.
Toji pushed the door open.
It was quiet inside.
A few staff milled about, cleaning tables or arranging chairs.
Runoa stood near the counter, chatting softly with Syr, while Mama Mia barked orders from the kitchen without ever showing her face.
Syr looked up and smiled gently.
"Toji-san," she greeted. "You're early. Not often we see you when the sun's up."
He shrugged and stepped inside, his boots thudding softly against the wooden floor.
"Didn't feel like the Dungeon today."
"Coffee?"
"Black."
"Coming right up."
He slid into a corner seat, the one furthest from the windows. It gave him a view of the room and two exits. Old habits died hard.
Syr brought the coffee not long after, placing it before him with that usual serene smile.
"You look tired," she said, not as a tease, but as an observation.
"I'm always tired."
"Well, you look it more than usual."
He took a sip of the drink. Hot, bitter. Perfect.
"Rough mission?" she asked.
He didn't answer.
But she didn't press.
Instead, she sat at the edge of the table, folding her hands in her lap.
"I heard you had a supporter yesterday."
He glanced up.
"News travels."
Syr chuckled. "Especially when the Guild staff talks over breakfast."
Toji leaned back, the cup cradled in one hand. "She was small. Scared. Desperate."
"And you didn't kill her for it?"
"Would've been easier."
Syr tilted her head, curious. "But you didn't."
Toji didn't answer.
They sat in silence for a few minutes, the quiet broken only by the occasional sound of Mia grumbling or a distant clatter in the kitchen.
Then, a new voice cut in, gentle, teasing.
"Toji-san, you're sulking."
He looked up to see Ryuu approaching from the hallway behind the bar, sleeves rolled up, a damp cloth in one hand.
"I don't sulk," he replied evenly.
"You glower, then," she said, standing across the table.
He sipped his coffee. "That's just my face."
Ryuu's lips quirked faintly.
"You're different today."
"Because I'm not killing things?"
"No. Because you're here."
Toji leaned back, setting the cup down.
"Didn't know I left that much of an impression."
"You don't," Ryuu replied without missing a beat. "But you're quiet. And in a place like this, that says more than shouting."
He raised a brow. "Didn't know you were a philosopher."
She gave a small shrug and began wiping down the table beside his.
"You're a difficult man to place," she said. "You don't speak much, don't drink with others. You come in when no one's here. But the few times we've seen you act... it's always for someone else."
Syr nodded quietly. "You helped that boy. Bell."
Toji didn't respond.
"And now a girl you knew was lying to you."
Still, silence.
But his jaw flexed. Just slightly.
"She reminded me of someone," he said at last, voice low.
Ryuu paused, cloth frozen in her hand.
"Someone important?"
Toji looked at the dark swirl of his coffee.
"No. Just someone I used to be."
They left it at that.
For a time, the air settled. Syr went back to the bar. Ryuu continued cleaning.
Toji sat in silence, eyes half-lidded, feeling the warmth of the cup slowly soak into his skin.
The world outside the window moved on without him.
But for now, he didn't have to move with it.