The guild hall was alive with its usual hum of adventurers coming and going, the smell of parchment, sweat, and ale thick in the air. Selvara pushed the heavy door open, clutching the vine-tied bundle of goblin ears close to her chest. Her armor was whole again—restored by its strange magic—but she still remembered the cold breeze against her bare skin the night before. Even now, her cheeks warmed at the thought, and her body twisted slightly, betraying her private thrill.
But today, she wasn't here only to report her mission. Her mind replayed the strange message she had heard in her head after defeating the goblins.
You gained 150 experience.
Her steps faltered as she reached the counter, and she swallowed before raising her hand. "Um, excuse me… I wanted to, um, ask about something strange that happened after my mission yesterday."
The receptionist looked up, a woman with tired but kind eyes, clearly someone who had seen many bright-eyed adventurers come and go. "Strange? Well, you're not the first to say that. What happened?"
"I, uh… after I defeated some goblins, I heard a voice in my head. It said I gained… one hundred and fifty experience." She bit her lip, nervous. "I don't understand… what does that mean?"
The receptionist straightened, adjusting her glasses. "Ah, so it happened to you as well. Yes, that's the system recognizing you. Experience—XP, as we call it—is the measure of how close you are to growing stronger, reaching the next level. It comes when you prove yourself in combat."
Selvara tilted her head. "So… just from fighting?"
"From winning," the receptionist corrected, holding up a finger. "And it's not just in physical combat. Victories in sensual wrestling also count. Both paths test the body and spirit. The gods measure either kind of triumph as proof of your growth."
Her words sank deep into Selvara's chest, and her breath hitched. So it wasn't just because I swung my branch… the system also counted what I did with my throat. Heat climbed into her cheeks, and she shifted from foot to foot, her thighs pressing together.
Still, she forced herself to ask. "But… do both always give the same? I mean… is one stronger than the other?"
The receptionist shook her head, lips pursed. "That depends entirely on the individual. Some gain more XP from traditional combat. Others… gain more from wrestling victories. The gods tailor it to the vessel. I've seen fighters grow twice as fast just from one path, while others needed to balance both."
Selvara blinked, trying to steady her heartbeat. So the humiliation… the shame I felt… it wasn't meaningless. The system saw it. It gave me strength for enduring it. A shiver of joy tickled her spine.
She raised her hand again, timidly. "Then… how much experience does a goblin usually give?"
"Anywhere from ten to fifty, on average," the receptionist replied. "The exact amount is random. Stronger foes tend to lean toward the higher end, but luck always plays a part."
Selvara's lips parted. "But I… I got one hundred and fifty…"
The woman gave her a curious look, then chuckled softly. "Then you must have defeated three goblins. That makes sense. But I wonder—was all of that from combat? Or did the gods weigh your wrestling victories more heavily?"
The words made Selvara's skin prickle. She remembered every detail—the desperate sucking, the salty heat in her throat, the goblin collapsing limp in her hands. And then the torn fabric, the breeze across her bare skin, her frantic struggle to push forward before the next one claimed her…
She squeezed her knees together, forcing a nervous laugh. "R-right… yes, I did face three…"
The receptionist, however, didn't let it go. She leaned forward, her voice low, almost conspiratorial. "It's worth noting—some people secretly prefer gaining experience through wrestling. The shame, the endurance… it can awaken something in them. Of course, most would never admit it out loud."
Selvara's cheeks flushed crimson. Her fingers fidgeted against her skirt, her mind spinning. Does she know? Did she notice how I trembled? A nervous, high-pitched giggle escaped her lips before she could stop it. She twisted her body slightly, as though trying to hide the burst of happiness that fluttered inside her chest.
The receptionist sat back with a sigh. "In my case, it didn't matter. I was one of the unlucky ones. I needed over 2,500 XP just to reach level two. Do you know how impossible that feels for someone weak?" She looked away, bitterness in her eyes. "I tried… I really did. But after failing so many times in wrestling matches, after being humiliated again and again… I gave up. That's why I sit here now instead of out there."
Selvara's brows furrowed. She wanted to comfort her, but another part of her whispered something shameful. She endured so many losses… she was broken by them. But me… I felt alive. Every humiliation, every shiver through my body, made me stronger. If this is my curse… maybe it's also my blessing.
Her voice came out quiet, hesitant. "So… if I keep going… if I gather enough experience… eventually I'll… level up?"
"Yes," the receptionist said, tone more businesslike again. "When you reach your threshold, you'll be given a choice. A voice will appear, asking what kind of blessing you want with your new level. Strength, endurance, skill… the choice shapes your path as an adventurer."
"That sounds… amazing," Selvara whispered, eyes shimmering with excitement.
The receptionist smiled faintly. "Don't get too eager. Like I said, some need a thousand XP, others two thousand or more. No one knows their exact requirement until they reach it. For me… well, 2,500 was too much."
"But…" Selvara's lips curved into a small, almost secretive smile. "Even if it takes that much, I'll endure. I can. I want to see just how far I can go."
The receptionist studied her for a moment. "You're a strange one. Usually, new adventurers flinch when they hear those numbers. You look… almost happy."
Selvara gasped, flustered, waving her hands. "N-no! It's not like that! I just… I want to learn more, that's all!" Her voice squeaked slightly, and her cheeks burned brighter.
But inside, her thoughts were a storm. Happy? Of course I'm happy. To think… the shame I feel, the heat that breaks me apart, the trembling in my chest—it all means something. It all counts toward my growth. The gods are watching… rewarding me… for every humiliating moment.
Her breath came uneven, and she pressed her hands against her stomach, twisting her body as a girlish giggle bubbled up unbidden. "Hehehe…" She tried to stifle it, but the joy leaked through.
The receptionist raised a brow. "Are you… alright?"
"Y-yes! Just fine! Perfectly fine!" she said quickly, forcing her posture straight. Her noble training helped her mask her inner tremors, though her legs still pressed tightly together.
Her heart was a fluttering mess, but her mind was sharper than ever. For all her clumsy, air-headed ways, Selvara understood something now: this system was not cruel. It was designed for her. Every fragile weakness, every shiver, every tear—it all had meaning.
And as she walked away from the counter, ears in hand, she thought with a bright, trembling smile: Next time, I'll give even more of myself. I'll endure even deeper shame. And I'll grow stronger for it.