Chapter 231: Guess Who?
The officers’ meeting had ended almost twenty minutes ago, but Martin could still hear everyone arguing.
Night Espresso’s first attempt to find a route into the Level Sixty Hidden Dungeon had failed. The fourteen-day Development Project was still active, yet several days had passed without giving them anything useful.
Some officers wanted the ranked expedition to keep searching. Those players had earned their access to the dungeon and followed Rangar’s advice, so pushing them aside after the first setback would only make the guild look impatient.
Others argued that they had already been given enough time.
Then someone suggested recruiting stronger players from outside the academy, and the discussion grew louder again. If Night Espresso needed outsiders to complete the Development Project for the Forest Hidden Monster Hunter Academy, what did that say about the guild?
One officer blamed the ranked members for lacking initiative. Another turned on Cassandra and Martin, arguing that they should have stepped in sooner. Several people tried to answer at once, and within minutes, nobody was listening to anyone.
Cassandra finally cut through the noise and ended the meeting before the argument became personal. She ordered the officers to stop trading blame and return with practical alternatives. Night Espresso needed a different way to approach the dungeon, but they could also investigate other ways to help the academy develop in case another opportunity appeared.
Nobody looked happy when they left, and Martin could not blame them. If Night Espresso failed the Development Project, the academy would lose the opportunity the Light Tree had given it. The elders wanted growth, including facilities that could help them compete with places such as Endless Rain and Mountain Risen, but their strongest guild still could not enter the dungeon tied to the project.
Right now, Martin only wanted somewhere quiet, preferably somewhere nobody expected him to solve the problem.
He headed to the wooden bench that had become his party’s usual meeting spot and leaned forward with his forearms resting on his thighs. His weapons and armor remained unequipped, leaving him in the academy’s simple clothes while he stared through the canopy.
Small patches of blue sky showed between the leaves. The bench usually helped him clear his head, but tonight, the meeting had followed him there.
We gave them enough time.
They earned access. Let them solve it.
What are we supposed to do while the deadline keeps getting closer?
Why hasn’t Emperoar taken over?
That last question bothered him because he had asked himself the same thing.
Martin knew how to handle pressure. He had spent years near the bottom of the working world, where clients demanded impossible results and managers passed every problem down the ladder. The people with the least authority somehow ended up carrying the most responsibility, so he learned to stay calm while everyone around him became nervous.
Back then, getting through the day had been enough. Now people looked to him when things went wrong.
He was no longer the lowest person in the room. When Martin spoke during the meeting, everyone stopped long enough to listen.
He had tried to remind them that Night Espresso had already solved problems that once seemed impossible. His party had cleared the Level One Hidden Dungeon, opened new resources for the academy, found valuable locations, defeated enemies far above their levels, and earned the trust of people most players barely treated as real.
They had never done any of that by repeating the safest plan. They took risks, followed strange ideas, and tried things other players dismissed.
That was what Martin wanted the officers to remember. After the meeting, however, his words sounded much worse in his head.
My party keeps producing results. Why can’t the rest of you do the same?
Martin lowered his head and rubbed both hands over his face. "Damn."
He had worked under managers who spoke that way. They listed their own achievements, ignored the work being done beneath them, and acted as though exhausted employees only failed because they lacked motivation.
Martin had hated them, and now he worried he had sounded exactly the same.
His party’s accomplishments were real, but listing them in front of people who had just failed would not give those people a new idea. It would only remind them that his group had succeeded while theirs had returned with nothing.
Two hands suddenly covered his ears from behind.
"Guess who?"
The voice was deep and smooth, the sort Martin would expect from a sophisticated older woman.
He froze. The path remained visible ahead of him, but whoever stood behind the bench stayed outside his line of sight. Her hands pressed lightly against his ears, muffling the activity around them without blocking her voice.
"Katherine?"
The woman clicked her tongue. When she spoke again, she sounded young and cheerful.
"Wrong."
Martin’s shoulders tensed. "Elisebeth?"
Her voice changed once more, turning cool and businesslike.
"Do I feel like Elisebeth?"
"Cassandra?"
A soft laugh answered him, but even that sounded carefully performed.
Martin stared straight ahead.
These women are ridiculous.
Katherine and Alexandra were actresses. Elisebeth had spent years performing onstage and could probably copy half the voices she had heard in her career. Cassandra had enough money to hire someone for the sole purpose of confusing him.
It really could have been anyone.
He lifted his hands and lightly closed his fingers around the woman’s wrists, but her gloves hid anything useful.
"Rias?"
She released a quiet, impatient breath.
That was harder to fake. So was the way her thumbs pressed against the sides of his head while she waited for him to catch up. The gesture was confident and demanding, and she was clearly getting annoyed that he had taken this long.
Martin smiled. "Alexandra."
Her hands lifted from his ears. "Correct."
He turned enough to see her behind the bench. "You changed your voice four times."
"Three."
"The first one sounded fifty."
"That was my interpretation of a dignified mature woman."
"That was someone’s rich grandmother."
Alexandra narrowed her eyes. "You have no appreciation for acting."
"I still recognized you."
"Eventually."
Her long hair rested over one shoulder as she looked down at him. Now that Alexandra had abandoned her plain disguise, there was nothing ordinary about her avatar. Her elegant features, sharp gaze, and confident posture made nearby players notice her even before she did anything troublesome.
Martin gestured toward the open space beside him, but she made no attempt to sit.
"For recognizing me, you deserve a reward."
"That sounds dangerous."
"It is."
Before Martin could stand, Alexandra leaned over the low back of the bench, wrapped both arms around him, and pulled him against her.
The back of his head sank into something warm and extremely soft, and his whole body stiffened as she pressed closer until her chest formed a comfortable pillow behind his head. Her arms rested across his shoulders, keeping him there without much effort.
Several players on the nearby path slowed down. One man stared at Martin, looked up at Alexandra, and almost walked into another player. Two women started whispering while pretending to inspect their quest windows, and a group that had already passed the bench turned around for another look.
Martin avoided their eyes. "You know everyone is staring, right?"
"They were already staring."
"Now they have a reason."
Alexandra looked down at him with a satisfied smile. "Their jealousy is more honest this way."