Rebecca sipped her beverage, and a sigh escaped. Before she froze to death, she wanted to enjoy warm things.

"Sugar?" Erik tilted a paper carton, and she looked inside.

A beat passed, she shook her head.

"Huh. You know, I'm starting to think you don't like me."

She rolled her eyes, "With a metabolism like yours, you wouldn't understand."

"I'll have you know that some of my fitness is from hard work."

She imagined the three men of Resurrection as farm animals. Erik's tail-chasing felt like a barn cat's, Duan sometimes looked like a cow chewing a curd, and Adem was the farmer.

So what am I, the food?

To help push out the bitter thought, Rebecca downed her beverage and ignored the singe on her tongue. Erik peeked at her chest when she threw her head back, another in a long line of gazes he thought she didn't notice.

It's not my fault you're frustrated, blame the heroine that laid her body before my bloodline, and figure out your problem, yourself. You can't have them. You don't measure up.

Her breasts pissed off a lot of wives, and, in her youth, Rebecca painstakingly wrapped them to avoid spite. Their eye-catching feature wasn't how busty they were, but rather how they bounced. Whatever enchantments the heroines used on their looks created a gravity-defying set, tying them down minimized it. The opposite happened.

The women, sensing her insecurity, spread rumors about her morality, and the men, spurred on by her vulnerability, harassed her.

The debacle escalated and imperiled her. A farmhand trapped her in a barn, and the women turned away. That's when Rebecca learned she inherited ice magic. Because the investigation would ruin his reputation, it being his fault for letting it fester, the farm's reigning nobleman happily dismissed her and paid for a Mage's Guild membership.

"They're here," Duan pointed to Walter and Elin at the Adventurer's Guild door.

Rebecca eyed Elin. Envy swelled in her stomach. The ex-paladin, or whatever she was, received more attention than her. Men peeped at Elin differently, because the heroine's features were comprehensive, every part was heightened and proportional. Rebecca's hyper-feminized chest or rear endured stares, but Elin was appreciated from a distance so they could see it all.

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So, why is she following behind Walter? He doesn't match her. He's average. Yet, she avoids looking at him like she has a crush. No, that's wrong, more like she's in heat. She's a prized breeding animal, so put a leash on her, already. Nail her so she'll stop being so jittery.

"How could someone mistake her for a paladin?" Rebecca muttered, without realizing it, "Stupid bitch."

"How unladylike," Erik joked.

"The more vulgarities I spit out my mouth," Rebecca seethed, and her voice rushed out, "The less you try to shove some in."

Erik cleared his throat, and an uncharacteristic bashfulness spread over his face. After he clenched his jaw, he looked away.

I shouldn't have snapped at him, but I'm not going to apologize. That's the privilege of the pretty. Don't be a dirtbag.

She leaned her shoulders into the back of her chair, but not to relax. Her back remained arched. Rebecca practiced this pose while studying at the Mage's University, in front of a mirror, until it seemed natural. After all, a poor farm girl needed to use all the tools she had. Hoisting her breasts pulled the fabric of her dress tight, the point, to put dessert on a silver platter.

He stilled unnaturally, Rebecca knew Erik noticed her movements in his peripheral vision. He'll forgive her, she felt.

"Sorry, we're late," Walter mentioned.

"It's not an issue," Adem responded to Walter's apology, "We have to discuss the next delve, at any rate. It's a double-heart Abomination dungeon. I think we're ready for it."

Elin cleared her throat to get Adem's attention. "What's wrong with the Mockery dungeons we've been delving? We're making plenty of silver."

Despite the two parties merging, a rift remained. Adem did not like a woman standing up to him, and Elin repeatedly did so. Her decisions revolved around Walter's safety. Under normal circumstances, Adem would have split the party.

The open reason he tolerated them was the money. Their clear-speeds accelerated because of Walter's supplying and Elin's blade. Resurrection suspected the two communicated by code, and Walter directed Elin. Once instructed, Elin suggested action to Adem. Instead of scouring a medium-sized dungeon for a day, it took them two hours, and their kill-counts skyrocketed. Walter earned the lion's share, because of his reselling, but Resurrection made more money overall with less effort.

Could he be a male oracle? Is that a thing? No, that's not a possibility.

Erik suggested pressuring Walter into a contract and splitting the profits upon party rules, but both Duan, who was content as a rule, and Adem, who had ulterior motives, declined. True to his nature, Erik mischievously asked during a meeting, having 'forgot.'

Elin blurted, "You will not," to Walter. He flinched, like she slapped him, but accepted her directive. Figuring out who was in charge between them was sometimes like getting fire and ice to mix.

The closed reason, the one only Rebecca could notice, was Adem desired either Elin or Rebecca as a trophy. He didn't mention it, but he might as well have. She didn't care. If he managed to build an unseated noble house, and he offered her marriage, then she'd sensibly accept. If a better option presented itself to Rebecca, then she'd pass over Adem.

"What do you think, Walter?"

He nodded, "Let's try. It should be routine. Right?"