The Minotaur was dead, but the work wasn't.
She didn't strike a heroic pose or linger on her victory. Instead, she shook the dark blood off her katana with a practiced, casual flick of her wrist and pulled out a roll of butchery tools from her pack. They looked far too sharp for comfort. Without a word, she knelt beside the massive carcass and began working on it with the cold, efficient precision of a woman who viewed a legendary monster not as a terrifying threat, but as a successful grocery run.
Andrew just stood there, his jaw hanging open, his knees still trembling. He watched her fill a canvas sack with prime cuts of meat. Her movements were entirely surgical.
When she stood up and started walking away into the dim woods, he finally managed to find his voice.
"H-Hey! Wait! You didn't even answer me!"
She stopped walking. She didn't turn around at first, her silhouette dark against the trees. When she finally glanced back over her shoulder, her eyes were flat and entirely unimpressed.
"Who in this green hell are you?" she asked. Then, her gaze dropped to the sack of meat. "I'm not giving you my food. If you're hungry, take your share from the scraps I left on the dirt. I don't do handouts."
"I don't want your food!" Andrew stammered, his face flushing hot with embarrassment. "I asked because you just saved my life. I wanted to thank you."
"Is that so?" She paused, a faint, cynical smirk playing on her lips. "I came here for dinner. I didn't even notice you until you started making noise, little man. Don't go thinking this was a rescue."
Andrew looked down at his boots, feeling incredibly small. "You could have at least *pretended*."
"False hope leads to false love," she said, her voice dropping into a dry, warning tone that made him chill to the bone. "And that has consequences. Usually expensive ones. Take it as a lesson of life and move on."
She looked him up and down, casually noting his tattered gear and the way his legs were still giving out.
"Come with me, boy. Unless you're planning on being the dessert for whatever else lives in these woods."
### Flint City: The Gray Trap
They reached Flint City by late afternoon. The place was a grim monument to Rock and Ground elements—gray, jagged, and smelling heavily of stone dust and hard, exhausting labor. It was a city built specifically for people who wanted to dig things up, or people who wanted to hide things away.
At the massive iron gates, a pair of guards stepped out to block their path.
"Documents," one of them said, extending a calloused hand. "This city isn't exactly built for casual human lungs."
Da-li didn't argue. She simply reached into her coat and handed over a small card.
The guard's eyes didn't just widen; they locked onto the metal plate, his breath catching in his throat. He hurriedly shoved the card toward his partner. For a long, tense second, it looked as though both men were on the verge of a stroke.
"Can we go inside now?" she asked, her voice thoroughly bored.
"Y-Yes, ma'am! Immediately!"
Andrew swallowed hard and followed her through the gates, his brain struggling to keep up with the sheer absurdity of the situation.
The local Adventurer Guild was a den of pure noise—a crowded, sweaty hall of mercenaries celebrating survival or drowning their failures in cheap, watered-down ale. When they finally reached the heavy wooden counter to sell off the Minotaur parts, the receptionist took one look at the pristine quality of the meat, and then looked at the woman standing beside the bedraggled rookie.
"Did you do this?" the receptionist asked, her eyes narrowing with suspicion. She leaned forward, studying Da-li's face. "Wait... I've seen you somewhere."
"You haven't," Da-li said flatly.
"But I feel like I—"
Da-li let out a tired sigh and casually pointed a single finger upward.
Hanging high above the reception area, covered in a thin layer of dust, were the portraits of legends. The kind of people whose names changed the actual borders of maps.
A sudden, jarring silence fell over the immediate area of the guild. It wasn't magic; it was just the collective realization of a few dozen veterans who knew how to read a face.
"I've had a lot of names," Da-li said, her voice cutting clearly through the quiet room. "The Queen of Gluttony. The Devil Huntress. Some idiots call me the Wacky Woohoo Girl. But you lot..." she paused, her smirk returning, sharp and dangerous. "You can call me Madam Da-li. Or Darla Lionheart, if you're feeling formal."
The explosion of noise that followed was deafening.
"DARLA LIONHEART? THE SSS+?"
Before the shouting could turn into a riot, the heavy oak doors at the back of the hall groaned open. The Guild Master stepped out. He didn't say a word, but his sheer presence was enough to kill the noise instantly. He walked straight past the crowd, stopped in front of Da-li, and bowed. Deeply.
"It's been a long time, Lady Da-li," he said, his voice grave. "We thought you'd disappeared into the void."
"I was busy," she shrugged, entirely unbothered by the weight of the man's respect. "Life happens."
The Guild Master's sharp gaze shifted, landing on Andrew, who was trying very hard to blend into the floorboards. "And this is...?"
"A rookie," Da-li said.
Andrew felt the words hit like a physical blow to his soul.
"Still alive, somehow," she added. "Pure luck."
"Then he's fortunate," the Guild Master noted quietly, looking at Andrew with something akin to pity. "Most people don't survive their first meeting with you."
### The Present: The Weight of a Name
Back in the quiet reality of the inn, Andrew stared blankly at the wooden ceiling of his guest room.
"Normal, huh," he whispered to the empty room, a soft, cynical chuckle escaping him. "You haven't changed at all. I've just finally started to see the sharp edges of the knife."
Down the hall, the domestic peace of the inn felt thin. Fragile.
Yuna had finally tucked Eunha into her bed and walked quietly into her mother's room. Da-li was standing in front of a small mirror, brushing her long hair, the warm steam from her bath still clinging to the dim air.
"Mother," Yuna said. Her voice was uncharacteristically firm, devoid of its usual teenage sarcasm. "I want to join the Adventurer Guild."
The brush stopped mid-stroke.
The air in the bedroom didn't warp or explode with pressure. It simply grew heavy. Cold. The kind of stillness that precedes a sudden frost.
"No," Da-li said. Her tone was flat.
"But why?" Yuna stepped forward, her hands clenching into fists at her sides. "You were one of them! You traveled the world! For how long are we going to stay hidden in this miserable hole? I can take care of myself!"
Da-li turned around slowly. The tired innkeeper who argued over grocery tabs was gone. In her place stood the woman who had taken a monster's head without breaking a sweat.
"Naina Lionheart."
Yuna froze. The sudden weight of her full name felt like an iron barrier dropping between them.
"I am your mother," Da-li said, her voice low, steady, and utterly unshakable. "And I said no. Now go to your room and sleep. This isn't a debate."
Yuna stood there for a long moment, her eyes filling with hot tears that she fiercely refused to let fall. She forced a rigid, painful smile that looked more like a grimace.
"Hah... fine. Good night, Mother."
She spun on her heel and walked out, the sharp click of the door latch sounding like a final judgment in the quiet hallway.
Left entirely alone, Da-li stood by the mirror. Her hand was trembling slightly as she raised it to touch her forehead.
"What have I done..." she whispered to the dark.
An old, jagged memory tore through her mind, sharp as a razor.
*Flint City. Years ago.*
*She had been hiding on the shadows of the second-floor balcony of the guild, looking down at a group of armored knights standing at the counter. They were holding a piece of parchment. A detailed portrait of her—the Empress.*
*"We have to find Her Majesty," one of the knights had whispered, his voice frantic. "The Minister gave us this drug. One single dose and she'll pass out long enough for us to deliver her to General Raizen."*
*Up in the shadows, Da-li had instinctively touched her stomach—a small, hidden bump where a new life was only just beginning to grow. Her breath had hitched in her throat. Her heart had hammered violently against her ribs.*
*"No," she had whispered to the darkness, her grip tightening on her blade. "I won't let you."*
In the present, Da-li walked over to the small bed where her daughters slept. The legendary queen, the terrifying SSS+ warrior, was gone. In her place was just a tired woman who looked old beyond her years.
A single tear escaped, trailing silently through the dust of her memories.
"I'm sorry, sweetie," she whispered, her hand hovering gently over Yuna's sleeping head, never quite touching it. "But I won't let them find us. I'll burn this entire world to ash before It happens.