The morning sun rose over the guild camp with deceptive serenity, casting soft golden light across the clearing, as if nature itself wanted to lull the inhabitants into a false sense of calm. Birds chirped sweetly. The dew sparkled on blades of grass. Somewhere in the distance, a squirrel army was having synchronized drills under the watchful gaze of a charmed leader. And in the heart of the camp, a war was brewing.
It began with breakfast.
Lina was up early, uncharacteristically calm, hair brushed to near perfection, and wearing what one might call a "casually battle-ready" outfit — which, for her, was one strap looser and sleeves rolled up just enough to show off toned arms. She was meticulously plating food, and not just any food: MC's favorites. A perfectly pan-fried egg, toasted bread, slightly spiced sausage with a hint of fire magic infused, and—because she read it somewhere—cute smiley faces made of sauce. She placed it in front of his seat and stood back, arms crossed, trying very hard to look like it wasn't a big deal.
Iris entered moments later, floating more than walking, her expression unreadable as always. She paused as she noticed the breakfast display, tilted her head… and then, with a cool sigh, waved a hand. In an instant, a second plate appeared on the table, filled with artistically arranged fruit slices in a snowflake pattern, dusted with glittering sugar crystals chilled to the perfect temperature. It shimmered like magic. Because it was.
They both stood there. Waiting.
MC stumbled in, yawning, hair a disaster, socks mismatched, and completely unaware of the culinary war waged in his honor. He blinked. Then blinked again. "Wow. Double breakfast?"
Lina coughed. "I just figured you might be hungry. Big day."
Iris didn't speak. She simply looked away, her expression slightly too neutral.
"Oh, cool, thanks," he said, digging into both plates without the slightest awareness of the tension thickening like overcooked porridge. "You guys are the best."
Lina and Iris exchanged glances. A silent, sudden realization passed between them. An uncomfortable one. One that neither of them particularly liked.
They were both in love with the same oblivious idiot.
And worse — they both knew it now.
Later, the two of them found themselves alone near the training logs. Neither said a word at first. Lina was practicing her punches, fire cracking with every hit. Iris stood perfectly still, snowflakes orbiting her silently. They didn't look at each other. Until they did.
"I'm not backing down," Lina said finally, after a particularly loud strike splintered a log.
"I didn't expect you to," Iris replied, eyes narrowed. "But don't expect me to either."
Lina snorted. "So what? We just keep throwing breakfast at him and hoping he figures it out?"
Iris hesitated. Then muttered, "It's worked worse than I thought."
They both paused. Then, against their own wills, they laughed. Just a little.
Meanwhile, on the roof of the nearby guild hall, Kira was watching everything with narrowed eyes, arms crossed and daggers holstered. Her foot tapped rhythmically on the tiles, her brain ticking through potential moves like a general reviewing battle plans.
This was war.
But unlike those two, Kira didn't believe in playing nice. She didn't cook. She didn't make magical art food. She stabbed things and took what she wanted. The idea of dancing around feelings made her want to gag. And yet… something about this stupid guild, and this stupid MC, and his stupid smile when he complimented her hair last week without realizing it, made her want to win.
Not just win him.
Win against them.
She pulled out a notepad she definitely didn't label "Romantic Schemes (Don't Read)," and started scribbling ideas.
"Operation Casual Praise?" she mumbled. "No… too subtle."
"Sudden Rescue During Monster Attack? ...Too dangerous. But spicy."
"Secret Training Session Where I 'Accidentally' Grab His Hand?" Her cheeks flushed. "Ugh, I hate this."
She stared at the sky. "Why is this so hard? I've led entire thieving raids with fewer variables. Men are dumb. Feelings are dumber."
Just below her perch, MC was busy chasing after one of the enchanted squirrels that had stolen his sock. Again. He tripped, face-first into a bush, and emerged with twigs in his hair.
Kira stared. Blinked. Then scribbled something quickly.
"Plan H: Wait for him to be an idiot. Profit."
She smiled.
Far from the battlefield of fists and magic, the true war was only beginning — and none of them knew who would win.
But one thing was certain: love, when mixed with rivalries, stealth tactics, passive-aggressive meals, and magical squirrels, was far more explosive than any dungeon boss.
END OF CHAPTER 45