Shirou returned to the inn just as dusk cloaked the sky in shades of violet and gold. The street lamps flickered to life with tiny mana orbs humming softly inside. The old wooden door creaked as he pushed it open and stepped inside. The inn's familiar warmth wrapped around him like a gentle cloak after a long day outside.
As always, Miss Flora was at the counter, flipping through a yellowing book with spectacles perched on her nose. Her presence at that desk was more consistent than the sunrise itself.
"She really needs to find herself a hobby," Shirou muttered to himself, shaking his head with a faint smile.
The moment she noticed him, her eyes gleamed with curiosity. "So," she said, drawing the word out like a seasoned storyteller, "how did the date go?"
Shirou's steps faltered for just a fraction of a second. "I already told you," he said, holding up a hand in defence, "it wasn't a date. She's just a friend."
"Just friends, hmm." She closed her book slowly, her smirk growing. "I've heard that line more times than I've had tea."
Shirou groaned internally. He saw the telltale sparkle in her eyes, the one that warned him of the incoming onslaught. Sure enough, her voice took on that overly nostalgic tone. "Once, I met this guy and this girl—oh, they were just friends too—"
"Shit, here she goes again," Shirou mumbled under his breath, cutting her off with a theatrical yawn. "Miss Flora, I'd love to hear the full story, but I think I'm too tired tonight. Maybe tomorrow?"
She gave him a mildly disappointed pout but nodded. "Okay then. You're missing out, though. It's a good one!"
Shirou used the chance to move toward the staircase like a man fleeing a battlefield.
At first, she wasn't all that talkative—we'd only exchanged a few words here and there. Then one day, out of pure boredom, I decided to strike up a conversation.
Big mistake.
She ended up talking nonstop for nearly four hours, and by the time I realized what I'd gotten myself into... it was already too late. Honestly, she might actually be the worst enemy he had ever faced in this world.
As he safely reached in his room, Shirou collapsed onto the bed, arms spread out. The conversation with Amelia still lingered in his mind. It had forced him to face something he had been dodging: the need for a proper job. He couldn't just keep living off the loot from the enemies he'd killed.
While he did have more than enough money to survive, the problem wasn't quantity—it was source. He couldn't exactly go around explaining that his funds came from defeating bandits and restoring the spent gold in his magical inventory.
"Until I clear the 50 floors of the dungeon—or at least get through 40—I can't afford to draw attention," he murmured. "Which means I need a cover. Something mundane. Something normal."
The word felt foreign on his tongue.
"A job," he sighed. "I need a job."
But who could he ask?
The image of Miss Flora appeared uninvited in his mind. Her ever-curious eyes, her long-winded stories, her refusal to mind her own business.
Shirou groaned, rubbing his forehead. "Well... I guess I don't have a choice."
Morning arrived with the blazing glare of the three suns peeking through the windows. The golden light filtered in, casting a warm sheen over the floorboards. Shirou stretched with a loud yawn and got ready for the day.
Descending the stairs, he found the usual sight awaiting him—Miss Flora at the counter, as though she hadn't moved an inch since last night.
"Does she even sleep?" he muttered.
Her eyes brightened when she saw him. "Oh, good morning! I was just thinking—I never finished that story from yesterday. This one has betrayal, heartbreak, and a horse involved. Trust me, you'd love it!"
Shirou raised a hand quickly. "Before that—do you know anyone who might be able to give me a job? Just something simple. I'm... kind of running low on money." A small lie, but necessary.
Miss Flora tilted her head, examining him like he was a puzzle. "I thought you were planning to go to Ravaryn?"
"I am. Just not right away."
She seemed to consider it, then nodded. "I might know someone. A friend of mine named Darwin. He works in transportation—moving goods across regions. He might have something for you."
Shirou smiled with genuine relief. "Thanks."
He turned to leave—but too late.
"You see, Darwin and I met two years ago. I was transporting a particularly rare batch of mana-infused sugar beans and—"
"Shit, got me again."
Three long hours later, filled with tangents, romantic intrigue, and two whole plot twists involving a runaway goat, Shirou was finally released.
"Maybe she should've led the war herself," he muttered on the way out. "The enemy would've surrendered just to make her stop talking."
Following her directions, Shirou arrived at what appeared to be a small distribution factory on the city's edge. Dozens of workers were loading large crates onto transport trucks lined with glowing runes. The air buzzed with the sound of barking orders and mana-charged engines.
He approached the nearest worker. "Hey, do you know where I can find someone named Darwin?"
The man pointed toward a towering figure near the far side—muscular, broad-shouldered, with a booming voice that echoed across the lot.
"That's him," the man said. "Boss Darwin."
Shirou made his way over. "Are you Mister Darwin?"
The man turned and sized him up. "Yeah. What do you want, kid?"
"I'm Shirou. Miss Flora sent me—she said you might have some work?"
Darwin's face lit up. "Flora! That chatterbox is still alive, huh? How is she?"
"Doing well," Shirou replied.
Darwin studied him again, more carefully this time. Shirou wasn't particularly muscular, but his stance and composure suggested discipline. In a world of magic, appearance didn't always equal ability. Still, Shirou could sense the scepticism in his eyes.
"I'm at late apprentice level," Shirou added casually. "Won't be a burden."
Darwin nodded slowly. "We are short on a couple people today. That might work. You ready to start now?"
" Of course "
"Alright. Start by loading those crates onto the truck. You'll be paid at the end of the shift."
"Sounds good."
Shirou approached a large crate. One of the nearby workers called out, "Careful, that one's heavy. Might need two peo—"
The sentence died mid-air as Shirou lifted the crate with ease, walking it over to the truck and setting it down gently.
The others exchanged glances.
Shirou continued working non-stop, helping not just with his share but also assisting others. His stamina, honed by dungeon battles and training, made the physical labour almost relaxing. Time passed quickly, and before long, the day's work was done—hours ahead of schedule.
"Wait, we're done already?" someone said.
"Yeah, thanks to the new guy," another added.
One of the men clapped a hand on Shirou's back. "You made it feel like a festival shift."
Darwin handed out wages to each worker, and when Shirou's turn came, he discreetly added extra coins to the pouch.
Shirou noticed immediately and shook his head. "I appreciate it, but I didn't do it for the bonus. I'm happy with the standard rate."
Darwin raised a brow, then smiled. "You're a rare one, kid. Alright, suit yourself. You coming back tomorrow?"
"Yeah. For the next few weeks."
With that, the workers dispersed, some waving as they left. The sun had begun its descent, colouring the sky in hues of deep amber.
Shirou looked down at the pouch in his hand and exhaled quietly.
The first money he earned after coming to this world.