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When she first started as a low‑rank adventurer, Scarlette never joined any party.
It was not because she couldn't—but because she refused to.
At that time, such behavior directly violated the unwritten expectations of the Adventurers Guild. Lone adventurers were frowned upon, seen as liabilities who would burden others or disrupt teamwork. Scarlette learned that lesson quickly—through harsh experience rather than words.
She was bullied.
Taken advantage of.
Used as bait, as a shield, as someone easily discarded because she lacked allies to back her up.
From that day on, she swore she would never depend on anyone. She would become strong enough to stand alone—to survive without being cornered, exploited, or underestimated.
And now, this was where she stood.
Scarlette snapped out of her memories and turned her attention back to the unfolding commotion at the rear entrance of the city gate.
The air was thick with tension.
She locked her gaze on the bulky man standing opposite Ryan.
The crimson‑haired woman was not someone who easily remembered names. Temporary companions, former teammates, passing acquaintances—unless they left a strong impression, they were quickly forgotten. But there were rare exceptions.
Curiosity.
Interest.
Or disdain.
That arrogant man's name was Fenix.
A flicker of irritation crossed her eyes beneath the veil as she studied him. She remembered him too clearly—unfortunately. During one of the subjugation missions issued by the guild months ago, Scarlette was temporarily grouped with his party.
He had been the leader.
An incompetent one.
Not only had he lacked judgment, but his reckless decisions nearly caused several of his members to bleed out on the battlefield. Scarlette had been forced to take over command mid‑operation just to prevent fatalities.
Thinking about it now made her jaw tighten.
That idiot.
And now, of all places and times, he was standing here—harassing her injured companion.
Scarlette observed the two men carefully, measuring them instinctively.
Fenix's body was massive, nearly double Ryan's size. His shoulders were broad, his muscles well‑defined, giving him the imposing figure of someone who relied heavily on overwhelming physical strength. The war hammer slung over his shoulder only emphasized that advantage. He looked confident—too confident.
Ryan, by contrast, stood smaller in frame. His posture was controlled but strained, injuries still evident despite his efforts to remain calm. His sword was unsheathed, pointed toward Fenix, but not recklessly.
Despite herself, Scarlette found her attention lingering on Ryan.
He's calmer than I expected, she noted.
For someone newly injured—ambushed, no less—most adventurers would either panic or overreact. But Ryan maintained discipline. His aura was restrained, emotions carefully suppressed.
He held back his anger.
That alone surprised her.
Earlier, they must've already fought once, she reasoned. Hard enough for him to end up injured. This… feels like a second round.
Scarlette frowned slightly.
Something about Ryan's current demeanor didn't align with the man she remembered from before.
Interesting… irritating… but interesting.
Years ago, the man she knew—the man behind the disguise—was known for his hot temper and sharp pride. Back then, he would not have tolerated an insult or provocation so quietly.
Yet now, he stood there, controlled.
Matured, she acknowledged reluctantly.
Her crimson‑lilac eyes narrowed.
Still serving under that person, though… and that alone makes me want to draw my blade.
The memory of her distant past resurfaced for a fleeting moment—two youths, reckless and burning with ambition. She suppressed it before it could distract her.
As her focus sharpened, she noticed something else.
Ryan was trying to replicate a sword form.
It wasn't perfect. The execution lacked refinement—but the foundation was unmistakable.
Scarlette recognized it instantly.
So, you remembered that… she thought. Even after all this time.
She clicked her tongue softly under her veil.
Annoying.
Yet she couldn't deny the significance of it.
Scarlette smirked faintly.
Show me, "Ryan." Let's see how far you've come beneath this disguise.
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At the center of the commotion, Ryan felt his patience thinning dangerously.
His veins pulsed under his skin as irritation surged—tempered only by rational restraint.
This arrogant bastard…
If this encounter had taken place in his homeland, attacking a noble without cause would be a capital offense. Execution on the spot would not have been out of place.
But here?
Here, he was merely an outlander.
A nobody.
And drawing attention under his false identity would bring consequences he could not afford.
Scarlette had left him to rest earlier. He was waiting for her return when this situation exploded—an unprovoked assault that caught him completely off guard.
Ryan glared at the bulky adventurer in front of him.
That smug grin.
That patronizing stance.
He's enjoying this.
The war hammer resting on Fenix's shoulder wasn't raised in readiness—it was a statement.
Look how strong I am.
Look how insignificant you are.
Ryan clenched his jaw.
Just looking at him makes my hand itch.
But he held back.
He had already fought Fenix once—quickly, fiercely—and this man refused to accept the outcome. Instead, he escalated the confrontation, provoking another round for the sake of wounded pride.
Scarlette… where the hell are you?
Ryan glanced around discreetly, hoping to spot the familiar crimson hair in the crowd.
Nothing.
I don't want to fight again, he thought. Not like this. Not here.
This wasn't a battlefield—it was a city gate crowded with civilians. Guards were slowly tightening the perimeter, but a single miscalculation could draw blood.
If this escalates, she'll have to clean this up to cover up what I have done, he realized grimly. And I don't want to drag her into my mess.
He raised his voice instead—controlled but sharp.
"Listen," he said, pointing his sword at Fenix without advancing. "I didn't do anything to provoke you. This is the first time we've met. You attacked me without reason."
His grip tightened.
"Are you not afraid of punishment?"
He breathed deeply, forcing his emotions down.
Negotiation was his goal.
Violence was the last resort.
Scarlette, where are you…
Fenix laughed.
A harsh, mocking sound.
"You think punishment matters to me?" he scoffed, eyes dragging Ryan up and down. "Know your place, kid. You're just an E‑Rank adventurer."
The words hit harder than the initial blow.
"Yet Scarlette took you as her companion?" Fenix continued, voice dripping with derision. "What a joke."
Ryan's eyes widened slightly.
He knows about Scarlette. Well, of course. Who wouldn't know here?
A chill crawled up his spine.
So that's your reason.
Petty. Small. Pathetic.
Just because Scarlette Overland chose him, this man felt threatened enough to attack?
Unbelievable.
Ryan felt something twist violently in his chest.
This was the first time his pride had been trampled so openly.
Back home, nobles sought his favor. Even his enemies tread carefully, masking their hostility behind courtesy. Noblewomen showered him with attention for a status he never valued.
But here?
A common adventurer dared to humiliate him so openly.
He forced himself to breathe.
Focus.
He sheathed his sword deliberately.
The motion startled Fenix.
Then Ryan crossed his arms casually—too casually.
The shift in posture was subtle but deliberate.
Provocative.
"I see," Ryan remarked calmly. "So, this is about that."
Fenix's smirk wavered.
"Yes," Ryan continued lightly. "I'm E‑Rank. And yet she chose me. Over others."
A pause.
"Maybe she saw something worthwhile."
Silence rippled through the gathered crowd.
The mocking amusement drained from Fenix's face, replaced by irritation.
"You insolent—!"
Ryan shrugged.
"You're making a fool of yourself," he said bluntly. "Throwing a tantrum like a child because your pride got bruised."
The words landed perfectly.
Too perfectly.
"You're an adult," Ryan pressed on, voice cool. "What a disgrace."
Fenix's aura spiked.
Ryan's instincts screamed danger.
The pressure rolling off Fenix changed—no longer just arrogance, but something darker, heavier.
That presence… Ryan thought sharply.
Without hesitation, he snapped into readiness.
Steel sang as he drew his sword once more.
He knew he had hit something crucial.
And whatever was awakening within Fenix—
It was no longer something he could ignore.
He knew that he had hit some point and became alert as he immediately pulled out his sword from his scabbard because he felt something from the arrogant man's presence that he couldn't identify.
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