Mark gazed at her captivating figure, feeling as though his very soul was being drawn toward her in a strange, entirely new way. However, he quickly pulled his emotions together, trying to convince himself that this was merely a superficial attraction—adolescent infatuation linked to growth. Perhaps, because he had been so profoundly lonely, his body was developing this kind of defense mechanism.
The memories this body held of her were fragmented, making them feel somewhat unreliable. Yet, according to the body's instinctive trust, she wasn't a bad person.
"Actually, I wasn't there for a re-evaluation at first," Mark said, sounding clumsy as he struggled to maintain a steady tone. "I went there to resign... and as luck would have it, I found out today that I can't quit being a Player. Funny, right? Heh..."
He paused, then added, "Well, in the end... I went through with the re-evaluation anyway."
Mark pulled the new card from his shirt pocket and handed it to Marsa. The moment her hand brushed against his, a massive jolt surged through his spine. He couldn't understand why he was explaining all of this to her, considering it was technically his first day knowing her.
"Oh, this is really good," Marsa said, looking at the card. "A Rank C for your class? It seems you were lucky to have your class evolve. It's almost a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for your category to get an upgrade, you know."
He remembered the moment back at the Guild; when he placed his hand on the evaluation crystal, it had emitted strange, rasping sounds. It seemed to malfunction, flickering through ranks non-stop before finally settling on C. In truth, that wasn't his real evaluation—the crystal simply couldn't measure the sheer magnitude of his power.
"Oh, yeah... talk about lucky," Mark replied.
Marsa stared at the card for a moment, smiling, but her expression shifted slightly when she read the class name.
"Slime Warrior..."
She looked at Mark, who was smiling back at her, and the Saintess's words from the live broadcast echoed in her mind:
"...He shall either annihilate the world entirely or become its salvation. His desire is currently shallow, and his will is nonexistent. He is presently somewhere in the East... he holds the 'Slime' class... and is currently contemplating retreating to the mountains for seclusion..."
The East... Slime... Nonexistent will and shallow desire...
Marsa looked at the man standing before her and swallowed hard as she handed the card back.
"I'm sorry, Mark... I have to go. I have an urgent appointment."
"No problem... you shouldn't miss your appointments," Mark said.
Even though he acted indifferent, his desire to let her leave was nonexistent; he truly wanted her to stay. He took his card and watched her walk away until even her shadow vanished.
Calming his nerves, Mark headed up to his apartment, only to find a notice taped directly to the door:
Mark smacked his forehead. He had forgotten that this body hadn't paid the rent either. This guy truly lived in utter misery.
Mark shoved the key into the lock, opened the door, and stepped into his cramped little room, finally feeling a sense of relief. He immediately jumped into the tub, soaking himself in water to feel refreshed once more.
He had practically exhausted the water supply of the entire street, staying under the spray for a full hour. The water bill was bound to be insane.
Once he was out, dried off, and fully dressed, he sat down and began working on the plan he had devised. In his mind, the Rank D "Ferocious Dogs" portal was out of the question; he saw himself as far too weak. He wouldn't be able to fight, and it was highly likely he would just end up running away.
He had done enough research and decided on the following: since the proof of completing a dungeon mission was the carcasses of the monsters, if he could somehow gather enough remains to satisfy the Rank D mission requirements, he would receive the completion reward.
But how?
"Heh... this is easier than expected."
After watching a ten-minute video on photo editing, he managed to create an "Inspector ID" with his photo using just his phone. It wasn't hard; he placed his picture on a white background with the word INSPECTOR in bold letters underneath. The role of an inspector—verifying the true difficulty level of a dungeon—was common knowledge.
As an "inspector," he would try to sneak in at night without an appointment and tell the guards it was a "surprise government audit." Of course, he wasn't going to be stupid; he'd wear a mask when he went in. He felt absolutely brilliant.
But... Mark never imagined that things wouldn't go his way at all.
{Classic Ghost Mask: 40 Royal Pounds}
"Why don't you just rob me in broad daylight?" Mark muttered while browsing online marketplaces, thinking he'd find the perfect disguise there.
Mark had set a strict budget of only 50 pounds for this mission. The problem was that the cheapest item available was this mask, which looked far too ridiculous for a grown man to wear. If he used it for a disguise, he'd become a laughingstock long before being arrested for impersonation.
Ultimately, all the options seemed too expensive for him to afford. Finally, after "mourning" every penny wasted, he begrudgingly added ten cents to the budget. He felt a physical ache, like a stingy CEO forced to pay out of his own pocket for the first time..
In the end, he bought a fake mustache and black sunglasses.
It was absurd. Aside from looking like a low-budget 90s cop, he was planning to wear sunglasses for a nighttime mission!
"I'm a dead man..."
But since the money had already left his wallet, he swore it wouldn't be for nothing. Even if he had to run for his life, he'd do it with those thirty-pound glasses on his face rather than tossing them aside—even if wearing them at night was completely idiotic.