The woman, who had just been declared fatherless, stood casually, lowering her knife before stretching her arms as if she had just finished a light workout.
"Okay. That’s done," she said nonchalantly.
Arthur frowned. "Huh? What do you an?"
The woman yawned slightly, tying her ssy hair back again. "So weird-slling old man paid to attack you once."
’Old man? Weird-slling? Ah... must be that God of Fiction,’ Arthur thought.
The woman smirked and lifted her chin. "Na’s Casca B. Itch. I’m a rookie adventurer."
Arthur furrowed his brows. "Casca... B. Itch?"
The na sounded so strange to him. He muttered under his breath, "No wonder this only got fake reviews and a few power stones. Even the character nas are like this."
Casca looked at him, puzzled. "Huh? ? Power... what now?"
Arthur flinched, realizing he had spoken out loud. "Ah, nothing. I just... thought your na was unique."
Casca grinned. "Heh, probably because you’ve never heard nas from other regions. I’m from the North, so it makes sense if it sounds unusual to you."
Arthur still felt like sothing was off, but he didn’t want to push the topic further. One thing was clear—Casca had no idea they were inside a novel.
"So... you attacked just to test my strength?" he asked, still doubtful.
Casca shook her head. "Not really. I was just paid a hundred gold to attack you once."
Arthur’s jaw dropped. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing.
Casca bead. "And now you’re gonna live with . That weird old guy said I should take care of you for a month. He’s gonna give another hundred gold after that."
Arthur stared at her, deadpan. "So you got paid just to attack once... and now I have to live with you?"
Casca shrugged. "Yup. Sounds easy, right? I’m already a hundred gold richer just for slicing you."
Arthur let out a long sigh. "You don’t think that’s weird at all?"
"The guy paying is a weird-slling old man," Casca replied casually. "I’m used to taking odd jobs from weirdos. As long as I get paid, I don’t care."
Arthur scratched his head in frustration. That God of Fiction really did whatever he wanted. He had no idea why the old man wanted him to live with an adventurer who seed to lack any sense of responsibility.
Casca clapped him on the shoulder. "Alright, let’s go to the city. We’re heading to the guild first."
Arthur raised an eyebrow. "Why the guild?"
Casca smirked. "Because you’re going to be an adventurer."
Arthur narrowed his eyes. "Did that old man tell you to make an adventurer?"
Casca shook her head. "Nope, that’s my own decision."
Arthur eyed her suspiciously. "Why?"
Casca grinned wider and slapped his shoulder again—harder this ti. "Because you’re gonna be living in my tiny house. I’m not taking care of you for free. You need to pay rent."
Arthur’s mouth fell open. "Are you serious?"
Casca nodded confidently. "Dead serious. You think living with is free? I’m not so charity-giving fairy."
Arthur sighed. "I don’t even have any money."
"Which is why you need to be an adventurer," Casca said nonchalantly. "You work, you get paid, then you pay rent to ."
Arthur felt like slamming his head against a wall. He had just arrived in this world, and he already had to pay rent? Wasn’t the protagonist supposed to get a free place to stay as part of the plot?
He glanced at Casca with a weary expression. "I don’t even know how to be an adventurer."
Casca patted her chest proudly. "Don’t worry, I’ll teach you. Now, let’s go to the guild."
Arthur wanted to protest, but he realized he didn’t have much choice. If he had to survive in this world, he needed a way to make money.
With a heavy sigh, he reluctantly nodded. "Fine. Let’s go to the guild."
Casca grinned in satisfaction. "Good. I like people who catch on quickly."
And with that, the two of them began walking toward the city. Arthur still felt like this made no sense, but at least now he had a goal—even if it was just to pay rent to the sa adventurer who had slashed him minutes ago.
As they walked, Arthur took in his surroundings. The city was finally coming into view—a high stone wall surrounding buildings made of wood and stone, with a bustling crowd moving through the entrance gate.
"By the way," Arthur turned to Casca, "what’s this city called?"
Casca yawned before answering. "Just City."
Arthur froze. "Huh?"
Casca raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, Just City. Why?"
Arthur closed his eyes for a mont, resisting the urge to curse. Ah... the author was really lazy with nas. Even the city’s na is just ’Just City’?! Did they write this at the last minute before a deadline?
But then, his mind started racing. Wait... I rember. The original MC of this novel was supposed to visit this city soday.
Arthur glanced at Casca, his thoughts moving quickly. If the MC was going to arrive in this city... that ant he could use his knowledge of the novel to his advantage. But he needed to confirm sothing first.
"Casca," he asked, trying to keep his voice casual, "what year is it?"
Casca frowned. "Huh? Why are you asking that?"
"Just curious," Arthur replied quickly.
Casca scratched her head before answering lazily, "It’s the year 3300 of the Regni Calendar."
Arthur almost choked on air. Regni? Ah... I rember soone comnting that this sounded like sothing the author threw in just to make it sound cool.
But his brain imdiately went into overdrive. If it was the year 3300 Regni, he needed to figure out when the MC was going to arrive in this city. If he could rember the details, he might be able to take advantage of it before it happened.
"Oi, why do you look like you just saw a ghost?" Casca eyed him suspiciously.
Arthur quickly composed himself. "Ah, nothing. Just... thinking."
Casca sighed. "Well, stop thinking and start walking. We’re almost there."
Arthur nodded and continued walking.
I wonder why I can’t say my real na, Arthur thought. I should try again.
"Casca?" Arthur called.
"What now?" Casca replied, a little annoyed.
"My na is Arthur D. Bump."
Arthur still couldn’t say his real na.
Casca frowned. "I already know that. Why are you introducing yourself again? Weirdo."
Arthur fell silent as Casca walked ahead. He stared up at the sky.
"I really can’t say my real na... Damn it."
With slow steps, he sighed and monologued dramatically like a cool ani character.
’Goodbye, my dear na... Peter Parkour.’
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