The Adventurer's Guild hall was the usual sensory nightmare.
Imagine a gym bag that's been marinated in cheap ale and blacksmith soot, then left out in the sun—that's the vibe. As soon as I stepped inside, the floorboards groaning under my boots, I instinctively hunched my shoulders and kept my head down.
I was putting the "mask" back on.
In this world, being a werewolf who's a bit of a pushover—medium skill, big mouth, low threat—is a survival strategy. If people think you're a joke, they don't see you coming.
The girl at the reception desk didn't even bother looking up at first. When she finally did, she gave me that "Oh, it's you again" smile—the kind that basically says, Please don't waste my time.
"Nothing for Tier 3s today," she said, her tone flat and borderline mocking. "Unless you want me to get roasted by my supervisor again for giving you a quest you'll just fail."
A few guys nearby snickered. One didn't even look away from his drink. To them, I was just background noise. An NPC in my own life.
I didn't give them the satisfaction of a comeback. I just gave her a slightly awkward, "my bad" grin and hoisted my pack onto the counter.
Then, I pulled the zipper.
I pulled out the first item and set it down with a heavy thud.
A giant spider's venom gland. Perfectly intact. No leaks, no tears.
The ambient noise in the hall dropped by about fifty percent.
I didn't stop.
Item two. Item three. Item four.
I laid out the Lizardman skins—warrior-class, thick, and cured so clean they looked like they'd come off a factory line. One after another, I lined them up on the polished wood.
Finally, I produced five Hook-Sickle mushrooms. These things were basically textbook quality: roots intact, caps full, moisture levels dialed in perfectly.
The laughter didn't just die down; it evaporated.
The receptionist's face looked like a video that had suddenly started buffering. She stayed frozen in this incredibly awkward half-smile while her eyes darted from the loot to me and back again. She leaned in, checking the venom gland like she didn't believe it was real.
This time, she took her sweet time. Her hand actually hesitated before she reached out to touch the materials.
Behind me, I heard the sound of chairs scraping against the floor as people stood up to get a better look.
"Wait a sec..." "Are those warrior-grade skins? No way a Tier 3 pulled those." "Look at the mushrooms. How are they that clean?"
I kept my voice level, like I was just checking out at a grocery store. "Just give me the standard rate for the lot."
The receptionist cleared her throat, her entire posture shifting. She went from "bored clerk" to "professional service" in three seconds flat.
"...Of course. One moment."
Suddenly, I was the main character. Nobody was staring openly, but nobody was pretending I didn't exist anymore, either. In the Guild, selling raw materials like this isn't just about the cash—it's about your rank, your reputation, and the kind of quests they'll "accidentally" let you see next time.
She started doing the math, her voice unusually careful.
"Warrior-class Lizardman skins... five copper each. You have five, so that's twenty-five copper." "Giant spider venom gland... three copper." "Hook-Sickle mushrooms... seven copper total."
She paused, double-checking her ledger.
"Total comes to thirty-five copper."
I thought about it for a second. "I'll keep the mushrooms."
"Understood." She nodded immediately. No sass, no attitude.
She slid twenty-eight copper coins across the counter. I scooped them up, feeling the weight.
It wasn't even half of what Serena had paid me for the private contract. Data doesn't lie: in any world, "honest work" is always the hardest way to get rich.
But I wasn't tilted.
Pessimists are usually right, but winners are the optimists who know how to game the system. I tucked the coins away and threw a look at the receptionist.
"Hey, look on the bright side. Today, you get to roast your supervisor."
A few guys nearby choked on their drinks. Someone tried to hide a laugh behind a cough. The receptionist turned a light shade of pink and managed a very strained, professional smile.
I turned and walked out.
Next stop: The Alchemist's Guild.
If information is power, then knowing the "market gap" is a literal superpower. I knew for a fact that the Alchemists were currently paying a premium for Hook-Sickle mushrooms because of a local shortage. The Adventurer's Guild just pays a flat rate; the Alchemists pay for need.
Information arbitrage—that's the real grind.
I crossed the central plaza and rounded a corner to find a five-story white marble building. Gold trim, arched windows, and steps so shiny you could see your reflection in them. It smelled like "old money."
I walked up to the materials counter. "Selling."
I laid out the five mushrooms.
Anyone with a brain could see the quality. An alchemist wearing a monocle peered down at them, poked one with a gloved finger, and sighed.
"Hook-Sickles," he drawled, not spending more than ten seconds on the check. "Condition is... average. Two copper each."
I almost laughed in his face. Greed is a universal language, apparently.
I kept my cool, keeping my tone professional and cold. "Root-harvested, mycelium intact, zero bruising, and moisture maintained at peak levels. You know exactly what these are worth to your lab."
The alchemist actually looked up then, staring at me properly.
"You're a strange werewolf," he muttered, narrowing his eyes. "Usually, your kind just rips things out of the ground like animals."
He hovered for a few seconds, then sighed. "Fine. Three copper each. Fifteen total."
I took the deal. It wasn't a jackpot, but it was the maximum I could squeeze out of the information gap. I thanked him and headed out.
In a quiet corner of the street, I finally counted my haul.
1 silver coin. 43 copper coins.
It wasn't a king's ransom, but it was enough to keep me fed, geared, and—most importantly—safe for a while. I let out a long breath.
In a world this brutal, you have to give yourself these little "win" cycles. If you don't celebrate the small stuff, you'll burn out before you hit Tier 1.
I looked up at the city skyline.
I might look like a werewolf. I might have the claws and the fur. But I'm playing this game with a human brain.
And honestly? That's the most dangerous thing in this entire kingdom.