Is It Wrong To Crave Love (In A Dungeon) Chapter 3 - Trust

“Hephaestuuuuuus!”

Hephaestus stopped mid-strike, her hammer pausing only for a moment against the heated steel. She wiped a bead of sweat from her forehead, lifting a brow, and struck properly in tune.

“Hephaestuuuuuus!”

The sound of heated steel being quenched by water filled the air of the forge, amidst the other countless echoes of hammers being struck, one after another, to a tune and a tempo that sounded, to her ears, like music.

“Hephaestuuuuus! Open up! Please! It’s urgent!”

Hephaestus sighed. She kept aside her hammer and marched slowly towards the door. It was literally the crack of dawn, and the sun wasn’t even fully up in the sky yet. The sound of a goddess whining outside couldn’t be ignored for much longer. She slowly rubbed the bridge of her brow.

What is it now? She had gone above and beyond the kindness expected of most friendships with Hestia, due to their relationship in Olympus. The three full months she had housed the goddess in a guest room, indulging in her laziness, feeding her mountains of potato puffs and having her children deliver books upon books for her to consume and enjoy were a privilege most gods who freshly descended never got to experience.

She certainly had no kind friends who offered her such assistance when she arrived in Orario, having forged her own path, literally, with her hands, her hammer, and her steel and forge. Kicking Hestia out was for her own benefit, so she would have a taste of just how harsh life on Gekai could be.

Of course, the short-stack goddess would darken her doorstep, again and again, after the day she was kicked out, unable to find a place to sleep or rest. She would come by again, beaten and battered by the rain, pouting as she needed to find shelter.

Her final act of grand kindness was giving Hestia an old church to call her own home and telling her it was a one-time, final favor. She had not heard from her for a while. Just as she thought the goddess might have started to get on her feet, Hestia was banging on her door at the crack of dawn, shouting that it was urgent.

Sighing, Hephaestus swung open the door, where she found the goddess there, panting and gasping. Barefeet, as the goddess often was, and looking incredibly anxious. The expression on her face told her this might actually be serious, because there was a strange fear, and anxiety, a greater anxiety than she had ever seen.

“What—”

Hestia latched onto her hand.

“Hephaestus! Is it possible to hide a Falna?!”

Hephaestus, with one visible eye, blinked. 

“It’s not just possible, it’s the default,” Hephaestus said slowly. “Being able to see someone’s Falna information and read hieroglyphics would expose all their secrets, so we can and do ‘lock’ the Falna to prevent it from being seen.”

“I could almost kiss you, Hephaestus!”

The smaller goddess tried to hug her, and Hephaestus held her at bay with a single hand. Who did she think she was? The captain of her Familia was already someone who hugged her more often than was needed. 

“Don’t even think about it.”

The relief in Hestia’s voice couldn’t be faked. Hephaestus grew curious. She had expected her friend’s reason for showing up was to ask for another favor or request another aid or boon, but asking about how to hide a Falna? 

“If you’re asking this, that means you finally got someone to join your Familia?”

“His name is Moses, and he’s a very… special child…”

“Special, huh?”

By special, you mean gullible… don’t you?

Hephaestus would never say it out loud, but she had doubted Hestia’s ability to find someone to join her Familia, only for the reason that Hestia was open about her desire to create a Dungeon-oriented Familia. If she wanted to make an agriculture, food, or production-based Familia, she would have little doubt of her friend’s success in recruiting children. However, it was not the same for a Dungeon-oriented Familia.

It was common knowledge that most of the Gods who sought to create a Familia that aimed to make a living on expeditions and quests into the Dungeon had to prepare outside of Orario before recruiting within it. They needed personnel, they needed funding, they needed to be able to pay wages, they needed to provide attractive safety nets, measures of support and comfort that would make the all too dangerous job of being an adventurer easier and more palatable.

Those were things that a destitute goddess could not offer. No one who had the barest understanding of risk assessment would accept Hestia’s offer, and the only ones who would accept an offer to work under a goddess with nothing but promises to offer would likely only do it because they were gullible, inexperienced, or because they’d set eyes on her chest and had been hypnotized.

In other words, either innocent, naive children, or incredibly lusty, horny, shameless children.

Hestia would detect the latter at first glance and would likely not accept them, which all but guaranteed her new child fell into the category of the former.

Poor child doesn’t know what he’s in for.

Hephaestus pitied this Moses fellow.

“He's the reason you’re asking for a way to hide the Falna?” Hephaestus asked. “What, does he have some sort of rare skill or something?”

For your sake, I hope he does…

No financial support meant using the cheapest gear, having either no armor or relying on the cheapest armor, having little rations, not being able to afford a supporter, needing to go to the guild on his lonesome to acquire information about the dungeon, needing to hunt solo, and guard his loot from other, less honorable adventurers who would want to pick on the lone newbie and steal his proceeds.

One Pass Parade on a solo adventurer was often all it took to put any and all ambitions of greatness to rest. The Dungeon, despite its allure, was merciless and indiscriminate in its cruelty. Hestia’s new child needed some rare skill or the other, else he truly, absolutely, would be in for a miserable experience in the Dungeon. Knowing Hestia, after spending so long searching for a child to join her Familia, if the child were to die…

She had barely tolerated a lazy Hestia. She absolutely would not be able to tolerate a depressed one.

As Hestia went quiet, as she stood there, awkwardly, as if warring within herself, Hephaestus felt something was amiss.

“What… he does? He has a rare skill?”

Hephaestus wanted to swear. Did Tyche leave some of her authority on you before you descended?! What sort of luck do you have…?

“Having a skill as soon as you get a Falna is pretty unusual… isn’t it?”

Is that what she’s worried about? Hephaestus couldn’t help but shake her head.

“It’s rare, yes, but not unheard of. There are children whose desires are strong enough that they can manifest a skill as soon as they receive their Falna. Others are obtained as a result of their special bloodline. I have a child like that.”

Hephaestus recalled that particular child of hers. Welf had let it slip as much. His Crozzo Blood skill had appeared as soon as the goddess who oversaw his family, Phobos, one of Ares’ subsidiary gods, engraved her Falna into his back. He had been tasked then and there to make magic swords. Upon succeeding, his hatred of magic swords was all but carved in stone.

Hephaestus, personally, did not believe skills were the end-all and be-all of what made a child special, but there were many who did. To a lot of gods, their children were collectibles, and finding a super-duper rare five-star SSR character was something that they would brag about to anyone and everyone who cared to listen.

“You don’t need to worry, no one’s going to accuse you of cheating because your child started out with a skill. It’s a novelty, but that’s just about it.”

Hestia still didn’t look convinced. The goddess still appeared oddly anxious. “And having magic…?

Magic? Hephaestus paused. “That’s also not as rare as you’d think. A lot of races often learn magic before receiving a Falna. It’s called congenital magic. Elves are most often in this category, but other races have special magic and sorceries as well.”

“And…” Hestia glanced about. “...having both?”

Hephaestus stared. She understood why Hestia had rushed to meet her so early in the morning and why she wanted to learn how to hide a Falna. It no doubt came as a shock to her. While having a skill as soon as a child got the Falna was rare, it wouldn’t gather that much attention. Having magic as soon as a child got the Falna was also rare, but it wasn’t worth raising a fuss. 

Starting with both at the same time?

That would draw some curious gazes.

“It would be very unusual,” Hephaestus admitted.

“What if they had two…?”

Hephaestus froze.

“What?”

Hestia was visibly sweating.

“Two skills and… one magic.”

Hephaestus’ throat was dry. 

Starting out with two skills? And magic on top?!

“Did you use your Arc—”

“I didn’t!” Hestia said, panicking. “I really didn’t!”

The other gods would be salivating and drooling. They would be more than curious to know what made that particular child special, and whether they could replicate the occurrence in their other children. Even Hephaestus was baffled.

Though skills were said to be rare, they could be earned through undergoing certain unique experiences, or through years of repeated experiences. In her Familia, several of her children had attained skills related to smithing due to the years they spent forging weapons.

It’s possible if he spent years doing some activity repeatedly…

If a person spent decades as a hunter, or farmer, or smith, it was not unusual for them to unlock a skill related to that profession the first time they got a Falna, a skill that was the result of decades of hard work and effort. 

“Hestia, how old is this child of yours?”

“About… eighteen?”

Hephaestus was stumped. If the child was at least in their late twenties or early thirties, she could have understood it and claimed it was expected. She would have claimed it was a natural result of accumulated decades of experience. Eighteen? Unless he was working right from the womb…

Considering starting out with just one skill would give a child a guaranteed leg-up against other adventurers who were starting fresh, and there were adventurers and children who spent years striving hard without ever getting a skill or learning magic, it made the child more than special. If word got out, every single god and goddess in Orario would be curious to know what it was that made the child tick. 

Depending on the type of skills and the type of magic, it could even draw the attention of particular gods and goddesses who were fond of ‘stealing’ away the children of others.

Hephaestus wasn’t stupid. Hestia telling her this was a significant show of trust. In fact, it was probably the most trust any god had ever given her. Sure, she had let the short-stack goddess bum with her for three months, but that was the blink of an eye to beings who did not age and could not die. Sure, she gave her that old church to use as the base for her Familia, but Hephaestus didn’t believe a run-down church was worth the trust she had shown her by sharing this information. It was undoubtedly the greatest act of trust Hestia had shown her.

It was as if it did not occur to Hestia that she would covet her child after hearing such, because she trusted her enough to know that she wouldn’t. The thought of it made Hephaestus shake her head again.

Sigh… I’m going to end up helping her more, aren’t I?

Under normal circumstances, Hephaestus would never have considered giving Hestia any more help, because she had helped her as much as she possibly could. She would have let her friend and her friend’s Familia sink or swim by her own merit.

It’ll be a complete waste if someone steals such a child from right under her nose because she doesn’t know the first thing about running a Familia…

That was the excuse Hephaestus was giving herself for why she was going to offer a little bit more help to Hestia. It had absolutely nothing to do with the warm and fuzzy feeling in her stomach that came from Hestia’s blatant, unspoken trust in her. Nothing at all.

Investment. I’ll just think of this as an investment…

Hestia’s child was undoubtedly going to draw attention once he began delving into the Dungeon and using his skills and magic. Unless he actively avoided using them in front of others, it was a foregone conclusion that word would travel quickly of a rookie doing things that broke the mold of what was expected of a rookie.

“Hestia, how serious are you about wanting your child to survive in the Dungeon?”

“I’ve never been more serious about anything.”

Hephaestus looked into the short goddess’s eyes and found she couldn’t find any trace of the usual laziness.

“In that case,” Hephaestus began. “Come by in the evenings, and I’ll give you a few lessons on some things you should know if you’re going to do this seriously.”

“Hephaestuuuuuus! Thank youuuu!”

The shortstack goddess tried to hug her again, and Hephaestus held her at arm's length again, by her head, watching as her hands flailed wildly.

“What’s with all the hugging?”

“My child reminded me of how much it matters to hug the people I care for.”

Hephaestus lifted a brow. There was clearly a story there, but she was not going to probe. It was true that the gods could impact the children’s lives and change them, but many forgot that the children, too, could impact the gods and change them.

He should probably never meet Tsubaki…

Hephaestus thought dryly. 

She’ll hug him for days.

=====)+(=====

“...and last on the agenda, the matter of the Upper Floor Ghost,” Eina adjusted her glasses carefully as she read from the stack of papers in her hand. 

It was her turn to lead the meeting today, and she ensured everything on the list was going to be addressed in perfect order before the Guild opened.

“According to reports, there is an invisible presence on the Upper Floors, ranging from the Fourth Floor to the First Floor. Originally dismissed as a rumor, we verified it after multiple adventurers reported feeling as though they were being watched on the Upper Floors. Others reportedly found footprints and heard footsteps, despite seeing and hearing no one. Some members of the Soma Familia claimed that their provisions, rations, food, and water went missing, stolen while they slept.”

“Knowing that Familia’s track record…” one of her male co-workers mumbled. “Are you sure they didn’t steal it themselves?”

“Regardless of the Soma Familia’s reputation, providing a false report to the Guild is not something done or taken lightly.”

Because it’s easy to disprove it, Eina wanted to add. A mortal cannot lie to a god. It was a saying that everyone in Orario knew and a saying that had been proven time and time again. It didn’t matter which deity, even the cheapest, most shameless of them could always sniff out deceit at a glance.

“Regardless, the reports have become far too frequent to be ignored any longer,” Eina continued. “Which is why the Guild is issuing a Quest with a reward of a hundred thousand valis for information about the ‘Upper Floor Ghost.’ If it is a monster, two hundred and fifty thousand valis will be given for its capture, alive, as vouched for by the Ganesha Familia, who wishes to display it in the upcoming Monsterphilia.”

The room exploded into excited chatter.

“A hundred thousand valis?!”

“Isn’t that too much just for information?”

“It’s out of my hands,” Eina said. “The order came directly from above.”

“From above? Why?” 

“Maybe it’s because the ‘Ghost’ has the ability to move between floors?”

“But, if it really is a monster, imagine the crowd it will draw at the Monsterphilia!”

“Two hundred and fifty thousand valis for its capture… if it’s the upper floors, it can’t be that strong, so it can’t drop anything near that much…”

Eina did not comment on the matter. She, herself, found it odd. While she was aware of the Ganesha Familia’s tendency to capture monsters for exhibition and taming, the rewards were oddly disproportionate. Weirder still was the reaction of the Guild once the rumors of the Upper Floor Ghost spread, and she was called in to answer questions.

“Are you sure?” Royman, the ‘Guild Pig,’ had swallowed his dislike of her half-elven blood, summoned her into his office, and asked her that question personally. 

“Adventurers described that despite sensing a presence, it had no ill-will, and no malice?”

For whatever reason, they were told to immediately expunge that part of the rumor from future records and accounts and ensure it did not spread.

What are they thinking? That it’s a ghost that’s friendly? She wanted to shake her head. A friendly monster… as if such a thing could exist.

Eina was more likely to believe that the Upper Floor Ghost was an adventurer playing pranks on people with a rare skill or magic item that made them invisible. She had, thus far, not received a single report from any Lv. 2 or higher Adventurer about it, which made her even more certain that it was a Lv. 1 Adventurer’s idea of mischief.

The skill or item probably didn’t work on people of higher levels and monsters with keener senses, which was also why they stayed on the upper floors.

In her opinion, putting such a high reward was making a mountain out of a molehill.

She could already feel the hassle that would come from several hundred adventurers flooding the Upper Floors in an unnecessary treasure hunt, and the fights and reports and incidents that would arise from so many conflicting parties gathering in a relatively tight space.

Even if by some miracle the ‘ghost’ really did exist, it would undoubtedly notice the influx of many adventurers on the upper floors and flee to the lower floors, staying out of sight. The entire idea of such a massive reward was so counterintuitive that if she didn’t know any better, she would believe they didn’t want it to be caught.

“And that concludes this morning’s meeting.”

The guild opened, shortly after, as it always did, and Eina approached the front of her desk, readying herself for another day of work. Another day where some of her male coworkers would shoot her glances out of the corner of their eyes that they thought she didn’t notice.

She wasn’t complaining, of course, she was used to it, by now, as despite being half human, the blood of elves still ran through her. Elves were considered the most beautiful, elegant, and refined of all races, and even as a Half-Elf, heads turned and people did double-takes when they encountered her.

Her focus, however, was on her work. She liked her job. She loved it when adventurers truly shone and excelled. She enjoyed keeping track of information, recording their growth and deeds, and playing her part, however small, in a larger story.

She loved what she did and did what she loved, but, in the eyes of others, it made her a workaholic. Most people didn’t quite love their jobs as much as she did, or to the extent that she did, arriving earlier than all others, and leaving later than all others.

She had thought being a workaholic, a woman who loves work too much, would be a major turn-off to her would-be suitors, but it somehow hadn’t. Several strong, dependable, capable adventurers still attempted to court her. Extremely rich, wealthy, powerful adventurers had attempted to court her. They both completely missed her passion for her work and misunderstood it as a fervent desire for wealth and acquiring financial support.

Sure, she did want money. Her ailing mother and father had managed to send her to the School District to acquire the best education possible, and she needed to be able to repay that kindness. That didn’t mean all she cared for was money.

Some of them had been decent, upright, good people. However, they were the sort of people who, merely by being in her life, would make her feel as though she didn’t need to try as hard, and that she could rely on them. Eina didn't really like that.

She liked solving problems and helping others solve problems. She didn’t like others helping her solve her problems. A partner that had it all, be it wealth, fame, or power, would have no problems she could solve that they couldn’t solve themselves. Instead, they always try to solve her problems, which wouldn’t make her happy, because she enjoyed the feeling of solving her problems on her own.

What useless things am I thinking about so early?

“Welcome to the Guild,” Eina greeted politely, as she felt a shadow approach. “What can I help you with?”

She had a job to focus on, and now wasn’t the time to think about her private life, or lack of one.

“Is this where I’m supposed to register?”

“That is corr—” she lifted her head, and caught on to a flash of blue hair that made her completely stiff. “M-M-Maris?”

It took a moment for her to notice he was male. Scrawny and plain, with sharp blue hair that was the exact shade of blue that belonged to someone else. Someone she could never forget.

The stranger lifted a brow, smiling. “It’s Moses. Close guess, though.”

It took a moment to recollect herself, and fight back the twisting and turning in her stomach, and calm her rapidly beating heart. The boy before her was not Maris. They had the same shade of blue hair, the same, identical shade, and the same, thin, waif-like form, and the facial structures bore an uncanny resemblance. 

Yet, she knew in her heart and her chest that Maris Hackard had died. She had seen the body herself, seen her corpse staring vacantly with half-opened eyes, seen the body, bereft of an arm, blood-streaked and cold.

Did… did she have a brother?

Maris had never mentioned siblings. She had never spoken of having any siblings. She had only mentioned that she was an orphan who grew up in an orphanage and left it once she was old enough.

“Did you… Do you…  have a sister, by any chance?”

“A sister?” Moses paused. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

“I grew up in an orphanage. I never knew my birth parents.”

Eina’s breath hitched in her throat.

“I may have siblings I don’t know about… Though they probably would never be here.”

“Here? You mean, Orario?”

“Uh, yes. Orario…” he shook his head. “What would be the odds of a sibling I’ve never met also arriving in Orario?”

The similarities were too uncanny for mere coincidence. If it was indeed a mere coincidence, it was the cruelest type of coincidence. What was she supposed to say? I knew a girl who looked like your spitting image, and she was my close friend?

There was no guarantee they were related at all, and if they were related, what good would telling him about a dead sister he had never met do?

She quickly gathered herself. “I… take it you’re here to… register as an adventurer?”

The boy, Moses, nodded. “My goddess insisted it's the first thing I do, after she inscribed my Falna yesterday.”

“Right… of course. You just need to… fill this.”

She forced herself to calm her thoughts as she handed him a piece of guild parchment, with all the necessary information provided.

“Can I get a pen… quill?”

“Of course.”

She watched him leave to fill the paper, her gaze following his every movement. The entire process didn’t take long, and as he passed the parchment back to her, Eina froze.

“Is something wrong?”

“T-this— you—”

He had filled his information with Hieroglyphs. 

The Language of the Gods. 

The Language of the Gods used to inscribe Falna. These Hieroglyphs, in particular, were more often used by those who came from the portion of the Heavens known as Olympus. She herself had only learned how to read and understand these thanks to the top-tier education afforded her by the School District. There was no one else, no other receptionist, who would be able to make heads or tails of what he’d written.

“Sorry if my writing is a bit poor. I’m better at reading the language, honestly.”

“How do you know how to…”

“Duolingo.” 

“Duo…?”

“Er — that was instinct…” he coughed. “I learned partially from a wise… owl… mentor,” he paused. “And a lot of personal study. A little too much personal study.”

Personal study? A wise owl? Eina didn’t understand heads or tails of what he was saying, and she gripped his filled form with trembling hands.

Technically, there was nothing against Guild rules or regulations that prevented people from submitting information in the Language of the Gods, simply because no one had ever been crazy enough to do so.

It wasn’t like reading Hieroglyphs was a skill people picked up on the roadside.

But… this… A person who so happened to look like Maris filled his form in a language that no one else in the Guild but her would be able to read?

Eina didn’t say anything as she processed the document, glancing over the information as slowly as she could to avoid missing anything crucial.

Name: Moses Vanderzee

Age: 18

Familia: Hestia Familia

Former Occupation: Coachman

…

He’s a year younger than me? Either due to how skinny he was, she could have been fooled into thinking he was younger. A coachman? Eina could not recall ever seeing him drive coaches, but at the same time, she could not say she rode in them enough to notice. She looked through the document and saw that the boy answered them directly, and correctly, as though he were used to this sort of process, accustomed to the clerical efficiency of filling forms.

A lot of adventurers weren’t. Some couldn’t read or write, some didn’t understand what certain things meant, some would misinterpret certain things, and she would need to correct them, but his parchment was flawlessly filled.

And this penmanship…

If he said his former occupation was an artist or calligrapher instead of a coachman, she would certainly not doubt him.

“That handles most of the paperwork.”

She organized the parchments neatly, adjusting her glasses and giving Moses a second look.

“Mr. Vanderzee, might I know what sort of adviser you’re looking for?”

“Adviser?”

“It is customary for the Guild to aid fledgling adventurers by providing an Adviser to guide them on the dangers, risks, and etiquette of the dungeon and adventuring.”

“I’m free to choose?”

“You can state a preference,” she nodded. “Do you have an inclination for a specific gender or race?”

“No. I just want someone…” he paused. “Someone kind.”

Eina hesitated. “Kind…?”

“Kind,” he repeated. “I’m going to be in over my head, so what I need more than anything… is someone kind. Someone willing to listen and explain things, I guess. Someone who cares.”

Her throat felt tight.

“Is that an odd request? If it is, please ignore it.”

“No— no, it’s an… understandable request.”

She gripped the paper.

“The paperwork will be filed. We should have a suitable adviser ready for you tomorrow. Please ensure you come by on time to meet them.”

“Tomorrow? That fast?” He blinked. “That’s great. Thank you.”

She watched him leave, without her gaze straying off his back for even a single second. As he exited, she entered the back rooms and came face to face with her coworkers, all staring at her, giving her knowing looks.

“What?”

“Tulle, come on. You’re not seriously considering it.”

“I—I didn’t say anything—”

“You don’t need to. It’s written all over your face,” Misha giggled.

“Taking on someone who looks like the first adventurer you lost isn’t going to end well for either of you,” Sophie shook her head.

“Especially because that one’s not going to last. You can tell, can’t you?”

From the moment she set eyes on him, Eina could tell that Moses lacked the ‘killer instinct’ that successful adventurers possessed. After years working at the Guild, it became a matter of intuition to be able to discern that instinct at a glance, and to be able to tell when a person didn’t have that instinct.

That instinct was often a good metric to determine who they would see again and who wouldn’t be returning at all. Some, incredibly rarely, because they quit, realizing the ugliness behind the veneer of prestige of the profession, and others, as was the brutal, bitter reality, because they died.

Rarely did someone without that instinct prove them wrong.

Very, very rarely.

“I give him six months tops.”

“He doesn’t look like could hurt a fly. I’ll wager three months.”

“Did you see how malnourished he is? Three weeks is pushing it.”

The typical betting and wagering had started again. Eina hated it. She was aware it was a means to cope with the loss and death, but still, she had never been able to stomach the way they made wagers with lives.

They embodied the attitude Chief Rehmer told her, once. Back then, the chienthrope had approached her after she had been working at the guild for over a year, and told her, ‘It’s better you don’t empathise with your adventurers.’ Then, she did not understand. He insisted that doing so would only lead to suffering. She had been younger and had never lost an adventurer, so she hadn’t understood what he meant.

It was only after she lost Maris that she understood. 

Adventurers lived their lives and made their choices, either for the sake of fame, or glory, or pursuing their next big ‘adventure.’ They walked constantly with death, and their lives were often left up to the whims of fate.

Everyone here had lost at least one person, a person they cherished, held close, and even in some cases, had relationships with that they’d hoped to be kindled into something more.

The wagering was just a way to accept it, to shrug and say ‘Well, that’s life!’

Eina didn’t like it. She never liked it.

“I’ll become his Adviser!” she declared, slamming her hand on the table. “I wager he’ll last longer than any of you think he will. And when I win… no more betting. None of it.”

“Come on, Tulle, you can’t be serious.”

“Don’t you already have enough work hoisted on you by Management?”

“It doesn’t matter, it’s just one more adventurer! I can handle it.”

He submitted his document with Hieroglyphs, and none of you can understand it, anyway. She wouldn’t tell them that. There was no need. She wanted to know more about Moses, about why he could read and write the Language of the Gods, about why he looked so skinny—

Whether or not he truly was related to Maris wasn’t important. Though she was curious, it wouldn’t color her perceptions or cloud her judgment.

From that moment on, Eina decided—

She would put her trust in him.

And she would be his advisor.