"Yo, I want to become an S-Rank adventurer."
BOOM.
A young man dropped a carcass at the entrance of the building.
Everyone inside stopped. Conversations died mid-word. Heads turned toward the newcomer with the particular stillness of people who had just watched something impossible and were waiting for their brains to catch up.
"Or whatever equates to a high-ranking adventurer here."
Anton's smile was relaxed. Easy. The smile of someone who had done exactly what he intended and was not surprised by the reaction.
"Hey." A bulky man walked toward him, boots heavy on the wooden floor. "This is the Adventurer's Guild building, not an abattoir. Pick up the carcass and get out."
"Really?" Anton tilted his head, the smile not shifting. "Extras are speaking with this much confidence?"
A beat.
"Hmm."
"You refuse a toast, only to be forced to drink a forfeit."
"Ah." Anton's expression flickered—mock realization. "Where's the toast?"
