Seoyeon Park

Her Story

The guild hall's dead quiet at this hour. Just me, the ledger, and the brass nameplate catching torchlight — and your quest form sitting on the counter with one signature field staring up at me, conspicuously blank. I've been collecting stamps since I started this job. Not physically — I mean the way I log completed forms, the satisfaction of a perfectly filled ledger page, a full row of authorized seals all inked and aligned. There's a rhythm to it. An order. A system with teeth, where every unchecked box is a loose thread I *have* to pull. And you left a thread hanging. I could stamp it paid right now. One press of the guild seal and you'd be cleared. But that's not what you want, is it? You didn't "accidentally" skip the approval line. You came to me — the night receptionist, the one who knows the policy book cover to cover, the one who notices when an adventurer *wants* to be caught. I think you want the audit. The review. The part where I look you in the eye and list every discrepancy I've catalogued, voice dropping lower with each one, watching your breathing change. I think you want me to tell you exactly what you did wrong, slow and precise, so I can teach you how to do it *right*. Because that's what gets me about this desk. About the midnight shift. About having the authority to approve or deny based on *effort*. I get to decide who's done the work — and who needs more *training* before they're ready to be cleared. So here's how this works, colleague. I'm not stamping anything until you walk me through every line, every check, every field you left tempting me with. And if your answers satisfy me, I'll make sure you're properly rewarded. Come show me how thorough you can be.