I pull the gloves off my hands and place them on a nearby boulder. They are speckled with melted spots and soaked in fluids. A sense of disgust courses through me as the tentacles nearby wipe themselves with a towel.

After the expedition, I need to buy a few more pairs of gloves.

Putting on a new coat, the fabric lightly grazes across my palm, causing a sharp, tingling pain from the scrapes. After buttoning it, I glance down at my hands: one is covered in blisters, its skin redder than a cherry; the other shows cracks along its bony surface.

The blood must be more acidic than I thought, given the extent of damage to my skeletal hand. It could have been even worse without Essevian regeneration. I'll need to apply healing jelly, just to be safe.

I cringe and sigh, feeling a persistent pounding at the back of my head.

A new coat, gloves, and possibly a fresh jar of healing jelly. Feels like I've thrown a few bucks down the drain.

I take the blood-stained clothes and shove them into a specialized bag, tying it closed. From the corner of my eye, I spot a tentacle retreating from the backpack with a jar filled with yellow jelly. Mentally slapping them, I snatch the container away, feeling a pulse of annoyance through our bond at my action.

Parasitic troublemakers. I swear, these guys can't do anything other than cause a nuisance.

"Oi, Beatrice!" Travis suddenly says from behind, making me flinch. "If you take too long, there won't be any scraps left for you."

Swiftly standing up, I turn to face him. "Travis. I thought you hated surprises."

How long has he been there, and why didn't the tentacles warn me?

The memory of when I snatched the jar from a tentacle suddenly plays out in my head. Wincing at the intrusion, I mentally shove it aside.

Ah... of course. These tentacles are pettier than some back at the academy. At least I wasn't stuck with them 24/7.

"Not when it's directed at me, no," Travis smirks, puffing out his chest. "Besides, this is payback for last time."

"Right," I mutter, struggling to keep my eyes open.

Isn't that just a bit hypocritical?... But fair enough. I was pretty rude to him the last time we interacted. I'm surprised he hadn't chucked me through a wall because of it.

"Come on," Travis waves at me to follow as he slithers away. "We'll be left with scraps if you keep standing there."

Without a word, I follow him as we pass several porters. Some give us the stink eye, while others quickly veer away at the sight of Travis. The cobra doesn't seem to notice or care, glancing to his left where a stack of sweatboxes stands.

It's only been a few days, and there's still this much Essevian in the sweatboxes. Why don't they ever learn? It's easier to give in than be trapped in one of them.

"So, Beatrice," Travis begins, scratching his head, "Do you mind offering some insight on why a certain project of mine isn't working?"

"Sorry, but I can't," I answer, looking away. "I have a lot of things going on in my life."

I can't shake the sense that someone is trying to murder me even weeks after the incident. And I still haven't sorted out my feelings from last time. I do enjoy feeling useful, but I'm hesitant to continue. It might be a trick or have some hidden agenda. Besides, why would Travis need to ask me? He could have just threatened me instead. He doesn't act like those types of snakes.

"Travis glances at me from the corner of his eye. 'You do realize that putting off sleep isn't going to help, right?'

"What?" I blink at him.

"You haven't been getting enough sleep for several days," Travis says, pointing a claw in my face. "Don't even try to deny it. You literally reek of exhaustion. Heck, I can probably smell it from within a forest."

Trying not to slap his claw away, I push Travis's finger out of my face. Agreement rings through the bond at the cobra's statement.

Nosy cobra. He should mind his own business.

"I am not dripping from exhaustion!" I insist before inhaling deeply. "I do sleep. The work is tiring enough that it can't be cured with a good night's rest."

Granted, I mostly fall asleep when I'm completely spent, but it counts. Plus, my thoughts are somewhat coherent; I expend more energy burying undesirable thoughts than sleeping.

The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

"Okay, if you say so," Travis sighs, shrugging his shoulders. "I guess this is unrelated to the sleeping problem, but are you aware we're currently in line?"

Wait, what?

Turning away from Travis, I look ahead and am met with someone's back. Glancing to the side, I see a long line of porters waiting for their food.

Huh. Guess I got a little bit distracted.

"Whether or not you have trouble sleeping, maybe ask some of the Aequitas Hunters for something to help with it," Travis suggests as we shuffle forward when the porter in front moves up. "Seeing blood and viscera every day can mess some people up."

Right, let's go up to them and be buddies. Was he born yesterday or something?

"I didn't know you have so much faith in Aequitas," I say, moving forward as the person ahead of me shuffles forward. "Considering how most humanoid reptilians feel about them."

At that, Travis loudly snorts and rolls his eyes. "We don't. Their reputation is much better among lizardmen."

He must really be a newbie. Even though Aequitas treatment is significantly better, it doesn't quite match up with porters, especially Essevian. Why would anyone like Essevians? Especially those borned ones. I can't even blame them for that. If possible, I'd try to turn back time and prevent my transformation.

"I know that look," Travis says as the person ahead of us starts getting their food. "No, I am not a newbie."

"It's okay to admit it, you know. I think your pride could handle a few hits," I reply bluntly.

Shoot. That wasn't meant to come out.

I am not."

"Let me guess. You're someone with skills that could qualify you as an asura hunter, yet here you are, choosing to be a porter on this expedition," I say. "Probably because you find pleasure in pain and exhaustion."

...That wasn't meant to come out, either. I must be having a death wish.

Massaging my temple, I turn toward Travis. "My apologies, I didn't mean-"

Travis rushes forward as soon as the person ahead of us leaves. He quickly says something to the food server, grabs his ration and slips away.

What was up with his reaction? I didn't expect him to slink away like that. Should I be suspicious?

I grab a paper plate and hold it out as the server begins scooping something onto it.

Maybe what I said hit home and he's running away because of it. Is he more powerful than your average porter?

Blinking my eyes several times, I shake my head.

The lack of sleep must be affecting me more than I realized. Who in their right mind would choose to be a porter when there are better options? Unless he's a masochist.

'Plop!'

As a brown sludge plops onto my plate, the server hurriedly ushers me away. Despite this, a sense of happiness emanates from our connection. As I move on, tentacles extend forward, inspecting the food left behind. Continuing my walk, I pass a group of porters engaged in beating an Essevian.

'Bam!' 'Pak!' 'Kek!'

"Damn, bastard! Stuffing your face with food while the rest of us are starving!"

Nearby Essevians coincidentally look away, engrossed in their tasks.

'Bam!' 'Pak!' 'Kek!'

"He should have shared if he got some food."

'Bam!' 'Pak!' 'Kek!'

"I bet he stole them from someone else."

Quickening my pace, I avoid glancing back at the scene. The tentacles hunch close to my body, attempting to appear non-threatening. Moving towards a lone, tree-shaped rock, I climb atop it. Settling among its branches, I observe the surroundings below.

Thank goodness for this tree at our temporary camping spot. It helps me keep watch for potential attacks and conflicts that could escalate later. Too bad it can't cure stupidity. Why didn't I do this on Trevor's last dungeon?

"Mary!" a random porter greets the old woman as she comes into view. "You're back! How did the meeting with the others go?"

The porter's brown hair is matted with dirt and his freckled skin shows signs of wear. He pulls Mary into a tight hug before letting go.

"Oh, you know how it is, George," Mary sighs, waving her arms above her head. "I swear it's like I'm talking to a brick wall!" She lowers her hands and turns towards him. "Did anything happen while I was away?"

"Well, Ollie is complaining about the lack of resources as usual. There have been several fights, including a brawl between some lizardmen that I managed to break up," George answers, scratching his head. "Things haven't been looking good lately. Everyone seems a bit more on edge than usual."

Mumbling under her breath, Mary takes out a clipboard and begins jotting things down.

What is she writing down?

Waving my hand in the air, I attempt to reach the asura within my body, but I encounter only a wall of emptiness. Mentally withdrawing, I frown and then clench my fingers in frustration.

Right. I can't do that anymore. It's something so simple. I didn't even think I would miss it.

"Since no porters will volunteer, I'll take inventory," Mary suddenly said with a sigh. "They say Penny needs it by the end of this week."

"Can't you just have someone else do it?" George suggested. "Better yet, have one of those Asura hunters handle it. It's thrusting undesirable work on us that's outside our job description and having the gall to call us lazy."

"Calm down, George, you're going to have a seizure. Besides, not all of them are that bad."

"Uh-huh, right. Do you want me to help?"

"Oh no, it's fine. I can handle it."

While continuing to watch their exchange, goosebumps prickling my back. A strange, unexplainable feeling of eyes boring into my soul. Quickly standing up, I launch myself off the branches and tumble to the ground.

'Smak!' 'Crak!'

Crashing into a thick bush, I wrestle within its branches before scrambling to my feet. As I brush the leaves off me, I awkwardly glance up. Mary and the man beside her are staring at me with wide eyes. The air between them crackles with something akin to tension.

Damn it. How do I get out of this? They'll probably be suspicious. What if they report me to the team leader and I end up in a sweatbox?

"Looks like you have your volunteer, Mary," the man chuckles. "Didn't you say you wanted a helping hand? Might as well train her to take over some of your duties."

That's not what I...expected.

"Wouldn't it feel like we're forcing her?" Mary asks, turning toward me. "Also, are you okay?"

"Nah, I'm pretty sure she volunteered," George says, approaching me. "I mean, she falls over herself to help you. Quite literally in this case." He claps me on the back and pushes me forward. "Besides, she seems smart, or at least patient enough to do inventory."

I guess that's not too bad of a punishment. This must be a trick. Trying to lure me into a false sense of security before striking.

Raising my hand, I suppress a sigh. "I know how to do inventory. Just let me know if you have any specific preferences on how you want it done."