Chapter 39: Recruiting (2)

Chapter 39: Chapter 39: Recruiting (2)

Emma’s finger trembled as she raised it toward her own chest. "You... want me...?"

She blinked at him, as though she genuinely couldn’t believe what she had just heard. Then the same finger swung around and pointed at him. "To join your squad?!"

Michael gave a calm, unhurried nod. "Yeah."

Emma dragged an open palm down the length of her face as a heavy sigh escaped her. "You can’t be serious, right?"

Michael tilted his head slightly, the corners of his lips curving upward. "I’m dead serious."

She peeked at him through the narrow gap between her fingers, scrutinizing him from the snow-white hair falling across his brow to the soft rose-pink of his eyes.

After a long moment, she finally spoke, her voice dry. "Is there actually something wrong with your head?"

Michael propped his chin on one palm, his elbow resting against the scarred tabletop as a warm smile curved his lips. "Hmm... What do you think?"

Color climbed Emma’s neck in a visible wave, dusting her cheeks a soft pink. She cleared her throat a little too loudly and forced out a scoff. "Is this how you go around charming women?"

Michael blinked once, his eyes widening with mock innocence. "Charm who? I’m just a harmless, innocent boy."

Emma released a sharp breath and rolled her eyes so hard it looked painful. "You really are a shameless bastard."

She leaned back in her chair, lifted the wooden mug, and took a slow, deliberate sip. Only after setting it down did she continue.

"I’ll give you one thing, though. You certainly have balls. First, you humiliate me by striking my chest instead of fighting properly, and now you stroll over as if nothing happened and ask me to join your squad. What on earth makes you think I’d ever agree?"

Michael’s lips curled into a confident smirk. "Well, the fact that you haven’t walked away and are still sitting here listening to me is enough to tell me you’re at least a little interested, don’t you think?"

He paused. The soft pink of his irises sharpened as his gaze locked onto hers with quiet intensity. "Or... maybe you just want to stay close so you can watch me and invent an excuse for why your earlier loss was natural."

Emma stared at him for a moment.

Her lips parted as if she had a response ready, but nothing came out. ’This bastard’s turning my own argument against me.’

A faint twitch ran through her brow as she clicked her tongue loudly. "Tch!"

Without another word, she snatched up the mug, tilted it back, and drained the remaining alcohol in one continuous swallow.

With a loud thud, the empty cup slammed onto the table hard enough to rattle the wood. "You know, you’re really annoying, you bastard. Both your brains and that pretty face of yours."

Emma stared up at the ceiling for a few seconds, letting out a long, resigned sigh.

Then she lowered her gaze back to Michael. "Fine. I’ll join your squad."

"Seriously?"

Emma gave a stiff, reluctant nod. "Don’t think I’m interested in your pretty face or anything. I simply want to see whether you pull off something extraordinary... or fail miserably and die. Either way, I win."

Michael pushed himself up using the edge of the table. He extended an open hand across the wood, a soft, polite smile on his face. "Then I’ll have to trouble you to take good care of me, partner."

Emma scoffed and rose without touching his offered palm. "Whatever. Besides, it’s completely improper to offer a lady a simple handshake."

Michael’s eyebrows lifted. "Oh?"

A triumphant little smirk touched Emma’s lips as she tilted her head, auburn hair shifting across one shoulder. "Can’t believe you didn’t know. You’re supposed to offer her a hug."

Michael stared at her for half a second.

Then his lips slowly curled upward. "Is that so?~"

Before Emma could realize what he was doing, Michael opened his arms wide and took a deliberate step toward her. "Then I’d be happy to follow proper etiquette."

Emma’s triumphant expression vanished.

Her eyes widened. "Wait—!"

Michael leaned forward slightly, his smile becoming even more shameless. "You were the one who said a hug was required."

Emma’s face erupted into a fiery blush as she stumbled back half a step, both hands flying up defensively. "Y-You... you absolute degenerate!"

Michael chuckled, dropped his arms, and turned on his heel. "Enough of that. Let’s go meet Kael in the back."

Emma let out a breath of relief, one hand resting against her heaving chest. She glanced at Michael’s retreating back before quietly following behind.

The noisy chatter of the tavern died down as the people around them noticed the pair walking past.

"No way... he actually managed to recruit that crazy bitch?"

"Well, she’s a damn good healer. Can’t deny that."

"Doesn’t make her any less of a broken defect."

Michael’s gaze shifted slightly at the last remark. From the corner of his eye, he caught Emma walking with her head slightly lowered, her bangs shadowing her expression.

The word defect echoed once in his mind.

A subtle, calculating smile curved across his lips. ’Hmm... a defect, huh?’

He studied her for another moment before looking ahead. ’Well, I can’t wait to find out what that’s about.’

Although Michael wasn’t certain what "defect" meant, he knew one thing for sure: an incompetent teammate was a liability. In a real fight, one mistake was all it took to get someone killed—and he had no intention of letting another person’s weakness become his problem.

Still, Emma was different.

If she already had even the slightest interest in him, then there was room to work with. Whatever this so-called "defect" was, if he could help her overcome it with a custom quest and turn her weakness into strength, then the investment could easily pay off.

And if she was desperate enough to fix it, even better.

Desperate people were easier to motivate, easier to bind to someone who gave them what they needed, and far less likely to forget who had helped them when they had nowhere else to turn.

After reaching the counter, they moved toward the sturdy door behind it, and without hesitation, Michael pushed it open.

The back room smelled of oiled leather and polished steel. Grolm stood near the center, clad in nothing but a crude brown-hide loincloth that barely covered his massive thighs, along with a thick leather harness stretched across his equally massive torso.

Raven waited beside a weapon rack. She wore a skin-tight jet-black leather battle suit that clung to every curve, leaving almost nothing to the imagination. Her red-and-black hair was bound in a high ponytail that swayed with every small movement.

Seeing Raven in the skin-tight suit, Michael swallowed as his gaze traced her curves. ’Damn... that’s hot.’

Raven’s golden eyes met his. Slowly, she dragged her tongue across her full lower lip.

Michael’s gaze lingered for half a second longer—

BOOM!

The floorboards suddenly shook beneath their feet.

THUD! THUD! THUD!

A massive shadow lunged across the room.

"PRETTY BOY!"

Michael’s eyes widened.

He barely had time to turn before Grolm came barreling toward him like a runaway boulder. The giant’s enormous arms wrapped around his body and yanked him clean off the ground.

"GAHAHAHA!"

Michael’s feet kicked uselessly in the air as Grolm crushed him against his chest in a bone-rattling bear hug.

"Grolm—"

"HAHAHA! I heard you picked this old master for your squad! How did you know my body’s been itching for a good slaughter?!"

Michael let himself be swung around without complaint, taking in the colorful, lethal group assembled beneath the low wooden beams. Slowly, a satisfied smile spread across his face.

Kael emerged from a side alcove and tossed a heavy leather satchel toward him. Michael caught it easily. The bag landed with a solid weight in his arms, accompanied by the soft clink of customized gear inside.

"I picked out the best equipment in the vault for you, big boss!"

Raven pushed herself away from the weapon rack, one hand resting lightly on her hip. Her golden eyes swept over the others before settling on Michael.

"So, boss... what’s the plan?"