The guild hall was unusually quiet. Morning light streamed in through the tall windows, brushing the wooden floors with soft gold. Jinn walked the upper corridor with hands tucked behind her back, boots silent against the grain.
> "No disasters. No crying rookies. No surprise flames. I could get used to this."
For once, the air wasn't tense. No outbursts. No arguments about sparring failures or test reruns. Jinn passed a group of clerks chatting softly while sorting scrolls and didn't even bother glaring at them. She just nodded once.
Her shift had started early. But then, the guild didn't follow fixed shifts. Assignments rotated—day, night, depending on need. She'd learned to adapt.
And lately, she had extra time. Enough to think.
> "It's strange. Things run smoother. They understand what to fix now. Maybe I don't have to be the wall all the time."
She turned the corner.
A young rookie darted past her in a hurry.
Then it hit her.
Her nose wrinkled. She stopped mid-step.
> "...Gods. Right. People still smell."
She stared after the rookie, expression flat.
> "Well, you can't blame them. This world has a medieval setup. Sure, they have magic. But commoners clean themselves with leaves and chewing sticks. Nobles have scented oils, soaps, powder. The rest of us? We just... endure."
The scent still lingered faintly in the air. Earthy. Sour. Real.
Jinn pinched the bridge of her nose.
> "They try. But it's not enough. Mint leaves don't erase everything."
Then something clicked.
> "Wait... I remember something."
She paused near a window, eyes narrowing.
> "Back then, I watched this video... YouTube channel about old hygiene methods. Herbal mixes, natural paste, ash and mint powders. They made their own. I must've rewatched that episode ten times just out of boredom."
Jinn blinked slowly.
> "Maybe it wasn't useless after all."
---
That afternoon, back at her home, she dug through her kit.
Small cloth pouches. Ground herbs. Crushed roots. Even a pinch of dried citrus peel she'd kept from an old tea stash. She spread them out over her desk, sorting by texture and scent.
> "Strong enough to clean. Soft enough to not kill a nose."
She mashed a small mixture of dried sage and fine clay with a spoon. Added a grain of salt. Then sniffed. Then gagged.
> "Nope. Too salty."
Second mix. Mint. Bark powder. A drop of oil from a blue leaf she knew was safe.
She sniffed again. Paused.
> "Okay. Better."
Her notes were short but sharp. Ratios. Drying time. Application.
She sat back, staring at the third mixture.
> "If I can't fix the world, maybe I can at least fix the way it smells."
---
Late that night, her room dimly lit by a flickering lantern, Jinn opened a pouch of her latest blend.
She dipped her fingers in the powder. Inhaled.
Clean. Crisp. Herbal.
She smiled slightly. A quiet, amused thing.
> "It's a start."
She sat down, scribbling a few last notes in the margin of a reused report scroll.
Outside, the wind shifted. The stars were out.
Tomorrow, maybe she'd test it properly. Maybe not. But tonight, she made something.
And that was enough.