Chapter 530: Pretty Boy Act 1
As I leaned in to look, a holographic box flickered into existence above it, displaying lines of text and symbols that appeared to shift and rearrang based on the viewer’s focus.
It was weird, because it wasn’t actually moving; it only seemed so.
There was information on monsters—detailed entries on various creatures, complete with weaknesses, attack patterns, and estimated danger classes.
Her full information was displayed prominently, a summary of her rank, class, and notable achievements that would grow as she completed more quests.
There was a space where her current quest would pop up, updating automatically whenever she accepted a contract.
And among other things like a communication function—it was like having a miniature guild right in the palm of her hand. Pun intended.
Apparently, it could function like a walkie-talkie of sort, and she can speak with her party members, or basically anyone else who has an ID and they… I don’t know, exchange contacts.
The holographic display shimmered as Heka navigated through the menus, her fingers swiping through transparent screens that floated in the air above her palm.
As the crowd gathered around Heka, wishing her well and feeling safe around her—their voices blending into a cacophony of congratulations and questions—I dragged Eric to the counter and made him register me as well.
My fingers wrapped around his wrist with just enough force to be insistent without being painful, and I pulled him through the throng of admirers, ignoring the curious glances and muttered comments that followed our path.
I swear I’m not jealous!
Anyway, people sure flock to power and charisma easily, like ants to sugar.
The moment someone demonstrates strength or status, everyone wants a piece of them, wants to be associated with them, and wants to bask in their reflected glory.
It was human nature—or perhaps it was just nature, period, the way every creature in the world gravitated toward the brightest flame.
Hehe. When I dazzle them with my Gold class or even Silver class, they’ll see who the real star is!
I could already picture it—the gasps of astonishment, the dropped jaws, the sudden shift in attention from Heka to me…
“…That said, register me immediately. I know you’re delaying it for some reason,” I stood extremely close to Eric, as our eyes were even nearly touching—so close that I could see some individual flecks of gold in his green irises.
My voice was low, about a whisper, but it had an edge of demand that I didn’t bother to soften.
“Please, Benjamin, you know how powerful you are,” Eric started explaining, his voice strained with worry, his gaze darting away from mine like he couldn’t bear to hold it. “What do you think will occur if you place your hand on the screener now? Heka easily got Tree class without even exerting herself at all, so yours will definitely be bad news. I don’t think the artifact is designed to measure beings like you—it’s calibrated for mortals, for normal adventurers. If you touch it with your full power, it might do something unpredictable that we can’t anticipate or control.”
Hm? I lost him at the “exerting herself” part.
So the screener would calculate things differently if you somehow exerted yourself while touching it?
The idea was intriguing, a new variable I hadn’t considered.
If I could control the output, regulate the flow, then I could present myself as whatever I wanted to be—powerful enough to be impressive, but not so powerful that I drew unwanted attention.
That makes things even easier: I’ll just do the opposite of exertion and the system will read me less, and I could adjust the power to my liking so Cthulhu’s face doesn’t show up on screen.
I explained my logic to Eric, laying out the reasoning with calm precision, but he was still worried.
His brow remained furrowed, his lips pressed into a thin line, his fingers fidgeting with the hem of his sleeve.
He wasn’t convinced. He probably thought I was being reckless, and that I was underestimating the artifact’s sensitivity.
After I emotionally blackmailed him—a few well-placed comments about broken promises and disappointed expectations, a sigh of theatrical sadness, a subtle reminder that he owed me for everything I’d done for him—he inevitably hooked me up with the receptionists.
His shoulders slumped in defeat as he led me to the counter, and I could see the resignation in his eyes, the acceptance that he’d lost this battle.
Unlike Heka who publicly proved that you can’t behead her just because you have an incredibly sharp sword, they think I’m a frail little girl.
The receptionists looked me up and down with barely concealed skepticism, their gazes lingering on my slender frame, my delicate features, my unassuming posture.
I was the opposite of intimidating—I was harmless, cute, the kind of person you’d overlook in a heated battle.
But in Elyndor, being a frail little person doesn’t mean you can’t be dangerous—take Siberia for instance.
That petite girl carried a sword that looked like it weighed more than she did, and she was one of the strongest adventurers on the planet.
Appearances were deceiving in this world.
I was led into a different place, at the back of the guild.
It looked like a wooden gym—a spacious chamber with high ceilings and thick wooden beams, the floor covered in worn mats that had seen countless years of use.
Training dummies stood in corners, their surfaces scarred and battered from countless strikes.
Ropes hung from the ceiling, and there were markings on the floor that indicated various testing stations. The air smelled of sweat and sawdust and the faint metallic tang of old blood.
In this place, they planned to test my strength to see if I have what it takes to at least be novice.
This was the standard admission process for anyone who didn’t have a spectacular demonstration to wave their hands at.
Eric followed me like a worried mother to make sure I didn’t tear the building down.
He hovered at the edge of the training area, his arms crossed, his eyes never leaving me.
So… he was worried about the safety of others, not me, I guess. That was fine. I could work with that.
“First, Applicant No. 6,” I think she spoke to me less polite than Heka, her tone brisk and businesslike as she pointed her finger, “You shall jump from that line to that line in one leap.”
I faced where she was pointing, and I saw two lines separated by 30 feet of space.
It was a respectable distance—not impossible for a trained adventurer, but challenging for an ordinary person.
I looked at Eric at my back, and he was biting his lips, his expression one of anxiety.
“Alright, I’ll jump,” I nodded, then entered cute boy mode, tilting my head slightly, letting my eyes go wide and soft, my voice dropping into a higher, more vulnerable register. “B… But, nice lady, if I hurt my leg, will there be a medic waiting nearby?”
“?!” She and the few receptionists there immediately blushed, some arranging their glasses nervously, others suddenly finding the floor very interesting.
The stern-faced woman who’d been giving me orders softened instantly, her cheeks flushing a delicate pink. “F-Fear not, we are prominent in healing magic. We shall take care of you.”
Ahaha! I sure have a pretty face, don’t I?
The reaction was exactly what I’d hoped for, and I had to suppress a snicker as I lined up at the starting mark.
Anyways, I jumped and just nearly reached the line before I ultimately failed.
My feet landed with a soft thud, a few inches short of the target line, and I stumbled forward dramatically, catching myself on my hands and knees.
The landing was calculated—not too pathetic, not too competent, just enough to be believable.
“Awwwn… I… I f-failed…” I said, my eyes shaking on the brink of fake tears, my lower lip trembling with precision.
I let my shoulders slump, let my head droop, let my whole posture convey disappointment and despair.
“C’mon, don’t cry! You actually did well for your first try.” One receptionist who looked more mature than the rest ran to me and held my shoulders, her voice warm and motherly, her hands gentle as she helped me to my feet. “That was a very good attempt. Most beginners don’t even get that close. You have potential, young man—you just need a bit more training.”
I nodded meekly, letting her comfort me and believe I was just a fragile little boy who’d tried his best and fallen short.
Inside though, I was grinning like a fox who’d just stolen a chicken. The deception was working perfectly.
Now I just had to maintain the act through the rest of the tests, and I’d walk away with the exact rank I wanted—nothing too flashy, nothing too suspicious, just enough to get me through the door and start building my legend from the ground up.