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**Granheim absolutely does not exist in LMS. Almost everything in this is fictional and only loosely based off of Nam Hi Sung’s work. No mature content in this one, haha!**

“… Park Sun Ja-nim, you’re terrible.”
“What? Why?”
“Number 50 ended up with… Bo-booby.”
“Pft! You’re still going on about that? Do you like saying that word or something?”
“...”
“Mr. Kim, the cologne you’re wearing is… very…”
“…”
“Mr. Kim… kya~.”
“%$&@$@I#%!!”

--

Crow didn’t know what to do.

“Uwaaa! Waaaaaa! WAAAAHHHH!”

The woman was clinging desperately to her and wailing like a banshee. It was extremely terrifying, but for some reason Crow couldn’t bring herself to run away. She even unconsciously brought her hand up to stroke the piteously quivering head, but realized what she was doing and quickly lowered it.

The tears soaked through the sleeve of Crow’s tunic. After a few minutes, the woman quieted, sniffling and hiccupping. She blew her nose on Crow’s arm and wiped her eyes.

“Thank… hic… thank you. I just… I just don’t know what to do. The shop is a mess and my… my Jay…”

Just as she looked like she was going to explode into another barrage of tears, Crow hastily put her hand on the woman’s arm.

The woman looked up. Her eyes searched Crow’s, and she seemed to find some kind of comfort in them, because she hiccupped one last time and pulled away.

In fact, Crow had just been thinking, dammit don’t cry, don’t cry. By the look of it, another ocean drained on her arm would be hazardous for her clothing.

Helen eyes sparkled. “You’re so kind. My name is Helen. Can you please help me take these fabrics to the shop? Looks like I tried to take too many… I’m sorry…”

Crow flinched at the unexpected table that appeared in front of her eyes and the ringing sound that accompanied it. So this was a quest? She quickly considered her options. She could probably just walk away, but she had nothing else to do anyways. This woman, Helen, seemed harmless enough.

She nodded, and Helen’s eyes lit up. The woman began picking up the fabrics that had fallen to the ground. “Thank you! I’ll show you the way to the shop.”

Crow nodded again and helped Helen pick up the rest of the fabrics. It was a motley collection of tasteless colors—pink that was too bright, sickly green, flamboyant red. Helen beamed and said, “I’m going to use them for a new dress. I don’t know why, but these pieces were really cheap. They’re pretty, right?”

Helen didn’t notice Crow’s pained expression and stood up, dusting off her skirt. Crow followed her up, hauling the eye-death cloth. She was bewildered by Helen’s sudden change in mood. Just a few moments ago, the woman had been bawling on Crow’s shoulder. Now, she was bright-eyed and energetic.

More importantly, getting a quest from Helen meant that she probably wasn’t another player, not another human in a capsule somewhere. What did they call them… artificial intelligences? It was incredible. Even the AIs were realistic.

She followed Helen cautiously, watching her every movement. Crow felt more at ease now that she knew Helen wasn’t a player, but that didn’t erase her misgivings. Whether they were human or AI, people were dangerous.

Helen didn’t share Crow’s doubts, however, and chattered incessantly as they walked. “Is this your first time in Granheim? You must be new to the town. Granheim is a wonderful place…”

After listening to Helen talk for awhile, Crow’s attention drifted elsewhere. They walked through several more alleys, but thankfully Helen avoided the main road. Nevertheless, they passed some people, and this time Crow had the courage to look at them. She wasn’t sure if they were AIs or players, but she was curious about what other people were doing in this game.

Many of them had swords strapped to belts around their waists. She even saw an axe and a few bows. What was this place? Did people kill each other here with those weapons? Or was there some other kind of adversity?

From what she had seen so far, it seemed like a fairly peaceful kingdom. The game was obviously set in medieval times. She hadn’t seen any cars or guns, only horses drawing carriages and weapons from times long past. There must be other kingdoms, since Harpy One was nowhere to be found.

Crow was lost in thought when Helen stopped. The woman’s expression had tightened and her mouth had miraculously stopped moving. They were in a large, bustling street. People were busily tidying shop fronts and sweeping doorways as others—probably players—strode purposefully into shops.

“This is Merchant Avenue,” Helen said. “My shop is over there.” She pointed to a cluster of smaller shops quite a distance away. Crow picked out the words, “Helen’s Tailoring,” scrawled in gaudy pink letters on a bright yellow sign. As expected, even Helen’s shop had bad taste.

Helen seemed to shrink within herself as she walked—no crept—along the side of the road. It was puzzling behavior, until…

“Helen dear, are you slinking back into your hole again?”

A voice thick with scorn assaulted the poor Helen, who seemed to shrivel into herself. Crow soon found the speaker, a large woman with even larger bosoms dressed in a revealing dress.

The ponderous woman was leaning by the doorway of a shop that matched the woman’s size. Called, “Fabulous Florisa’s,” the shop even had a gilded door and a statue of a flower in the front. Crow guessed the husky woman was the Florisa, and she was rather fabulous indeed. Her face was richly powdered, and each curl of her carefully permed hair was a perfect helix.

Her plump lips quivered hypnotically as she laughed. “Helen dear, what is that absolutely horrid pile? Surely you don’t plan on making a dress with that? How absolutely hilarious!” Florisa giggled. Then her eyes caught sight of Crow.

“What have you got here? What an absolutely pretty little pet! Were you thinking of crawling into Helen dear’s little hole, were you, little pet? Absolutely ridiculous. Come work for me, Florisa, the absolutely best seamstress of Granheim!”

One silver per day… Crow wasn’t sure, but it seemed like a lot of money. Nevertheless, she didn’t even consider it. Crow had recognized Florisa as a bully from the very first sentence. The dripping superiority, the affected familiarity—all of it was too reminiscent of Harpy One. She firmly shook her head.

Florisa’s lips wrenched downward in an ugly grimace. “Hmph. I see that trash absolutely sticks to trash. You’ll regret it, dear.”

With that, she flounced back into her shop, scowling at them all the way.

Helen looked at Crow apologetically. “Sorry, she’s…”

Crow shrugged, and Helen looked rather relieved. There was nothing to forgive. People were cruel. Crow had been forced to acknowledge it a long time ago.

They walked past Florisa’s shop, and Helen seemed to relax as they drew further and further away. Finally, they stood in front of the colorful sign.

Compared to “Fabulous Florisa’s,” it was a meager place. The windows were a little grimy and the gold paint on the doorknobs was worn away.

“It’s not much, but welcome to my shop,” Helen said, beaming. She unlocked the door and stepped in, holding open the door for Crow.
“You can set the fabric on the table over there. Thank you.”

The interior was as dingy as the exterior. It was a cramped place, and the walls were covered in racks of clothes. It was obvious who had made them, because almost all of them were made with astonishingly horrendous colors. Although Crow didn’t know for sure, she had a feeling that the styles were outdated and unpopular.

As Crow was looking around, she heard a series of thumping sounds. Soon afterward, a small, pale boy emerged from a stairway on the other side of the shop and ran towards them.

“Ma! You’re home!”

“Jay!” Helen moved forward and hugged her son.

After greeting his ma, Jay peered around his mom’s waist to look at Crow. “You brought a visitor, ma? Who is she? Is she a customer?” Jay babbled. Small of frame, active of mouth. Just like his mother. Strangely, despite being looked over, Crow didn’t feel uncomfortable or uneasy.

Suddenly, the boy coughed and seemed to crumple. Helen gasped and caught her son, who wheezed a little, then coughed into his handkerchief again. “Jay, you should have stayed in bed. Running is no good,” Helen murmured, looking pained.

Despite being wracked by another series of coughs, Jay tried to stand. “Huk… I’m okay, ma… it’s a good day, there’s even a customer… huk…”

Helen picked up her son and began to stumble toward the staircase. Crow felt strange. It was yet another feeling she thought she had lost. Pity. The helpless, panicking mother and her obviously ill child were to blame.

Crow stepped forward, unsure of what to think of these feelings. She would consider them later. A little hesitant, she looked at Helen and said, “Please. Let me.”

Helen looked surprised, and she gingerly put the wheezing Jay into Crow’s arms. “His room is up the stairs, on the right. I’ll get the medicine and come up shortly. Thank you.” Helen moved away hurriedly to another part of the shop.

The boy was light—too light. He was thin, but every time he coughed, Crow could feel the tremors shaking his body like a rag in a gust of wind.

Even behind his handkerchief, Jay looked embarrassed as Crow climbed the stairs and pushed open the door to his room. When she laid him in bed, he murmured a “thank you” and pulled his blanket over his flushed face, the sounds of his coughing muffled.

It was very awkward. Crow stood to one side, silent. There was nothing she wanted to say and nothing she could do, and the boy was obviously occupied. She felt that it was inappropriate to leave the room, so she took a position in a corner of the small room and waited.

Helen burst in holding a steaming cup, and Jay emerged shyly from his blanket like a turtle peeking out of its shell.

Jay drank as Helen held the cup to his lips. His face betrayed no emotion as he slowly drained the murky contents of the cup. Even from where Crow was standing, the liquid smelled awful, even absolutely awful. Her opinion of Jay vastly improved. The boy was a sock-water drinking champ.

Helen set the cup on the table. “From now on,” she said gravely, “you are to stay in bed. Too much movement will aggravate your illness, Jay.” Her voice became tender and she swept a lock of his brown hair away from his eyes. “Jay, please do as I say.”

Jay tried to force a smile, but was interrupted by another set of coughs. When it subsided, he said weakly, “Yes, ma. I just… I felt good this morning when you left, so I thought maybe…” As he spoke, his voice became groggy and his eyes slowly closed. Soon, the boy was asleep. He looked so vulnerable, so thin and pale.

Helen tucked him in and gazed at his small face for a while, then turned her attention to Crow. With a nod, she silently moved out of the room. Crow followed her out and gently closed the door behind her.

The little woman sighed, and the weight of the world seemed to settle on her shoulders. Jay seemed to be her only child. The little shop was quiet. The atmosphere had brightened a little when Jay had first greeted them, but now there was just heavy silence.

Helen led Crow back downstairs and into a small kitchen, where there was a table and three chairs. So there was one more individual in this family. It was probably the father, and Crow guessed that he would be an equally small, insubstantial man.

“Please, be seated,” Helen said, gesturing toward one of the chairs. As soon as Crow sat down, she heard her stomach growl loudly.

Both of them were shocked. It really wasn’t a good time for her belly to betray itself now. Crow wasn’t too surprised that she was hungry—the food stands had informed her that the concept of hunger existed in this game. However, she was appalled that it would manifest itself as a sound. Helen was—Helen was laughing?

Confused, another look confirmed it. Helen was really laughing. Despite all that had happened, the woman was laughing so hard she was clutching her belly. Crow frowned, and Helen wiped away a tear and said, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Aha… ha, I haven’t laughed like that in awhile.”

She turned aside and fiddled with the mess on the counter. “I’ll make us some tea, and if you don’t mind, you can stay for dinner as well. My husband should be home soon.”

An invitation to dinner sounded promising. Crow relaxed as Helen prattled on about what a mess the kitchen was, how much work she had to do, how the tea was taking so long. As the water boiled on the little fire stove in the corner, Helen poured some water into a large pot and began to chop up some vegetables. Crow wanted to help, but one look at the counter dashed those feelings. It really was a mess. There were unwashed dishes everywhere, and opened packets of herbs littered the surface. One of the packets had an obviously offensive smell—it was probably one of the key ingredients of Jay’s sock-water.

So she settled and listened. A short while later, Helen poured the tea into two mugs. “Here we go,” she said, sitting down with a sigh of content. Crow stared at her mug. All those scattered herb packets had raised her suspicions about what was in this liquid, but it didn’t smell bad and Helen was happily drinking it, so she drew it to her mouth. The aroma wafted in and almost seemed to refresh her. Crow took a sip.

Incredibly, not only did the tea taste good, but it had a positive effect on the “stats” she had observed earlier. She wasn’t entirely sure what those “stats” were for yet, but it seemed to be a good thing, and she drank the tea more readily.

Helen smiled. “I’ve been learning a little Herbology for Jay’s teas. Isn’t it good?”

Crow sputtered.

That drew another laugh from Helen. “Haha, don’t worry. I’ve just put a little stinging nettle and yellow dock in it. I can teach you how to make it, if you want.”

As she finished speaking, the door to the shop flung open and something black and enormous raced in. A wolf! A wolf was in the shop, and coming straight for them!

OH SHIT, Crow thought as she leapt out her chair and scrambled for a weapon. Of course, it wouldn’t do much good against such a huge beast, but she still managed to grab a ladle.

To her surprise, Helen calmly set down her cup and stood. Crow stepped forward to shove her out of harm’s way, but what she saw next flabbergasted her.

The black wolf ran up, went on its hind legs, and placed its giant paws on Helen’s shoulders.

FUUUCK! Crow thought, and was about to launch herself at the wolf when the she received yet another shock. Helen bared her teeth and the wolf licked her face. Then she laughed and stroked the massive animal.

“Brutus! Down, boy!” bellowed a masculine voice. A heavyset man clanked into the tiny kitchen, engulfing the space with his huge muscles.

Surely… surely this man wasn’t Helen’s husband?

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