Boran stood under the black slate and looked up until his neck started to hurt.
The ranking hall was quieter than the Tavern, but not silent. The noise here was different. Less laughing. More low voices. People spoke like they were inside a temple, or a stadium before the match started. Every few seconds, one of the names on the great board shifted slightly, the letters shining gold, silver, or white depending on rank.
The top of the slate was so high that Boran had to step back to read it properly.
Aurelian Vale — Level 1004 — Sovereign — Guild: Crownless Sun
Mei-Lan Zhou — Level 997 — Void Saint — Guild: Ninefold Moon
Cassian Thorne — Level 991 — Dragon Knight — Guild: Obsidian Throne
Boran read the three names twice.
They did not feel like people.
A man beside him pointed at the second name and whispered to his friend, “Mei-Lan moved up eight levels this week.”
“Void expedition,” the friend answered. “Has to be.”
“Or she found a hidden gate.”
“Same thing, if you ask me.”
Boran kept looking.
Level 1004.
The difference was so stupid that his brain almost refused to hold it. He tried to imagine fighting for one thousand levels and could not. He tried to imagine surviving that long and could not. He tried to imagine what kind of monster made someone with a thousand levels feel afraid.
The board continued downward in shining lines. Some people had titles so long they looked fake. Some guild names sounded like kingdoms. Some were independent, which somehow looked even stranger. A Level 963 independent adventurer sat at rank seven, and several people in front of the board were arguing about whether that made him more impressive or more insane.
Boran’s eyes moved down the list.
Rank 34 made him stop.
Serdar Bulut — Level 927 — Elementalist — Guild: Azure Bastion
The name hit differently.
Not because he knew the man. He did not. Not because the class was special. Elementalist sounded strong, but everything on this board sounded strong. It hit because the name felt like home in a room full of distant legends.
He was from Türkiye. Or at least the name said he could be. That was enough for Boran to stand there for a moment longer than the line deserved.
A small smile came before he could stop it.
“Serdar Bulut,” he said quietly.
The man beside him glanced over. “You know him?”
“No.”
“Then why are you smiling?”
“He is Turkish,” Boran said.
The man looked back at the board. “Good for him.”
“Yeah,” Boran said.
Good for him.
The first three names shone above everyone else. Aurelian Vale. Mei-Lan Zhou. Cassian Thorne. They were too far away to even envy properly.
One day.
Just one day.
“One day I will be here too.”
“Pfft…” the man beside him held back a laugh.
He left the ranking hall before the board could make him feel smaller again.
For the rest of Friday, Boran didn’t take any missions.
He bought dinner, paid for the dormitory, and went upstairs.
Hall C was noisy in the way it always was.
Mateo was sitting at the common table with Viktor, Lin, and Uncle Koji.
Boran knew Viktor only by sight. He was broad, red-faced, and always looked like he was either about to laugh or about to complain. Lin was small and sharp-eyed, with dark hair tied back and fingers stained green from plant work. Uncle Koji was not actually anyone’s uncle as far as Boran knew, but everybody called him that. He had a calm face, a slow walk, and a way of looking at people that made them stop lying before he spoke.
Mateo lifted his jar of tea when Boran entered.
“There he is. Guild man now.”
Boran looked at him. “You told them?”
“Of course I told them. I have no secrets worth keeping.”
Viktor leaned back in his chair. “Show the card.”
“I just got it,” Boran said. “Let me feel important for one night.”
Uncle Koji nodded. “Fair.”
Mateo pointed at Boran with his chewed pencil. “Six in the morning. Portal 11-B grey scrub. You coming?”
Boran stopped beside the table. He had forgotten Mateo had mentioned the job earlier.
“I thought that was your crew’s work.”
“It is. I invited you.”
“Why?”
“Because you looked offended when I said ten gold a day,” Mateo said. “I want to see if your offense can carry crates.”
Viktor snorted.
Boran thought about Saturday. He had no proper plan but his body wanted a quieter day. He also needed stone for the Adaptive Shield. Material Sense had shown him cut stone in the Hub, but the Hub was protected. He needed a legal place to break stone.
“Is there stone there?” Boran asked.
Mateo’s eyes narrowed. “Stone?”
“For my shield.”
“Your shield eats stone too?”
“It eats a lot of things.”
Viktor leaned forward. “What kind of shield eats things?”
“The weird kind,” Boran said.
Lin looked interested now. “There are broken scrub stones near the dry creek. Low-grade mineral, not worth much to us. If your shield accepts common stone, maybe.”
Mateo tapped the table. “Then come. We earn our ten. You find rocks. Everybody happy.”
“Ten gold?” Boran asked.
“That is the normal day,” Mateo said.
“Fine,” Boran said. “I’ll come.”
Mateo smiled like he had already known the answer. “Good. Sleep early. Six means six.”
“I know what six means.”
Boran closed the window and lay down.
The black slate stayed in his mind for a while. So did Noemi’s wink. So did William’s dagger. So did Mateo saying that people like him were easy to replace.
Too many things.
Boran turned onto his side and pulled the blanket up.
“One day,” he whispered.
Then he slept.
Mateo was right about six.
He was already awake when Boran reached the common table. Viktor had a crate harness over one shoulder and a chunk of bread in his mouth. Lin was sorting small glass jars into a padded bag. Uncle Koji was drinking tea from a wooden cup with both hands like nothing in the world could rush him.
Mateo looked Boran up and down.
“You brought the pickaxe?”
Boran tapped his inventory window. “Yes.”
“Food?”
“Yes.”
“Water?”
“Yes.”
“You up for hard work?”
“Sort of.”
“That’s more than Viktor brings.”
Viktor snorted.
Uncle Koji stood. “We should go.”
That ended the conversation.
By the time they returned to the Hub, Boran’s hands were filthy, his shoulders ached, and his shield had taken on a new form.
[Stone Shield Form unlocked]
[Form: Stone Shield]
[Durability: 35/35]
[Physical Defense Bonus: +5]
[Passive Effect: Stone Footing I]
[Effect: While standing on stone, packed earth, or other stable ground, balance improves and slipping, tripping, or being knocked down becomes less likely.]
[Active Ability Unlocked: Rising Slab I]
[Mana Cost: 5]
[Cooldown: 45 seconds]
[Effect: Raises a stone slab up to 1 meter high from suitable ground within 3 meters.]
[Limit: Requires stone, packed earth, or mineral-rich ground.]
Mateo insisted they eat at the Endless Tavern.
They took a table near the side wall. Not too close to the center noise, not too far from the servers. Mateo ordered a big shared platter before anyone could argue.
Roasted meats. Thick bread. Fried potatoes. Pickled vegetables. A bowl of green sauce. Another bowl of red sauce. There was also stew, because Uncle Koji said warm liquid was important after field work.
When the food arrived, Viktor made a sound like a religious experience.
Mateo waited until everyone had food in their mouth before opening the payment window.
“Alright,” Mateo said. “Before numbers. How many crates did everyone turn in?”
Viktor swallowed too fast and coughed once. “Four.”
“I turned in three,” Lin said.
Uncle Koji lifted one finger, then another, then another. “Three. Good quality.”
Mateo nodded. “Four for me. That is a normal day.”
Then everyone looked at Boran.
Boran stopped with bread halfway to his mouth. “What?”
“How many?” Mateo asked.
“Ten.”
The table went quiet.
Viktor slowly lowered his fork. “Ten?”
“They only gave me ten crates,” Boran said. “So I could only fill ten.”
Mateo stared at him.
Boran glanced between them, suddenly feeling like he’d missed something obvious. “I mean, I didn’t find that many good materials where I was. It wasn’t all valuable. Sorry.”
“Sorry?” Lin repeated.
“Yeah,” Boran said. “I thought I could do better.”
Viktor pointed at him with a piece of potato. “Are you insane?”
Boran blinked. “No?”
“Ten crates is not ‘sorry,’ kid,” Mateo said.
Uncle Koji nodded. “You’re a really hard-working kid. Hard to find these days.”
Coming from him, that sounded serious.
Lin leaned back in her chair, still looking at Boran like he had pulled the crates out of his sleeve. “They give everyone ten empty crates at the start. Most people return six or seven empty. That is normal. You are supposed to fill what you can, send back the rest, and get paid for the filled ones and material value.”
“I know,” Boran said. “That is why I filled them.”
Viktor laughed.
Mateo opened the payment window properly this time. “A normal day on this route pays ten gold each if it’s rough, fifteen if it’s decent. Today, after crate value and material quality... forty-eight gold each.”
Lin lowered her cup.
Uncle Koji’s eyebrows rose slightly.
Boran looked at Mateo. “Each?”
“Each,” Mateo said.
A green notification appeared.
[Gold received: 48]
Viktor leaned back and laughed. “Forty-eight!”
Lin looked at Boran now. “Your skills found half of that.”
“I just filled crates.”
Mateo tore bread in half and pushed one piece toward Boran. “You are very good at this gathering business, kid.”
“Guys...”
Viktor pointed at him with a potato. “He’s getting shy—can’t you tell? Stop complimenting him!”
“Thank you uncle.” Boran said.
Boran looked down at his plate, uncomfortable in a way that was not bad.
They ate for a while, but about ten minutes in, his message panel chimed.
Then he saw the name.
[Noemi: Are you alive?]
Boran stared at the message.
Mateo noticed first. Of course he did.
“Oh?”
“What?” Boran said too quickly.
Mateo’s eyebrows climbed. “What you reading over there?”
Viktor leaned over. “Who is it? Girlfriend?”
“No one. How can you read my message?”
“Not your message, kid. Your face.”
Lin smiled into her cup.
Boran wiped his hand on a cloth and opened the message properly.
[Boran: Yes. Are you?]
The answer came fast.
[Noemi: Unfortunately. I still feel like I’ve got ash in my clothes.]
[Noemi: Are you at the Tavern?]
Boran looked around the table. Everyone was minding their own business.
[Boran: Yes.]
[Noemi: Are you going to leave soon?]
Another message appeared.
[Noemi: If you are not busy.]
Then another.
[Noemi: I mean, I can come by.]
His ears felt warm.
Mateo glanced at the message window, then at Boran’s face, and his mouth twitched.
“Your business looks longer than ours,” he said.
Boran closed the message window a little too fast. “It’s nothing.”
“Of course.” Mateo picked up his jar and pushed his chair back. “Come on. Let’s give him the table.”
Viktor looked between Boran and Mateo, then grinned. “Ah.”
Lin stood before he could say anything else and took her plate.
Uncle Koji lifted his bowl with both hands and nodded to Boran. “See you later.”
“Yeah,” Boran said. “Thanks. For today.”
A few seconds later, the crowd swallowed them.
His message panel chimed again.
[Noemi: Still there?]
Boran swallowed.
[Boran: Yes.]
He hesitated, then added:
[Boran: Are you here?]
The answer came after a few seconds.
[Noemi: Yes.]
[Boran: Send me your location—I’ll come to you.]
[Noemi: Wow, a gentleman, huh?]
[Boran: No… I just…]
[Noemi sent their location.]
[Noemi: I don’t like waiting.]
Boran stood up too quickly, then sat back down because his knee hit the underside of the table.
A man at the next table glanced at him.
He checked the small blue marker Noemi had sent. It pulsed in the corner of his vision, pointing deeper into the Tavern.
Of course she was already here.
Boran wiped his hands on the cloth one more time and followed the marker.
The Endless Tavern was too large to make walking through it simple. Tables spread in every direction. Some were open to the main hall, loud and warm under hanging lights. Others sat behind half-walls, curtains, wooden screens, or raised platforms where groups could talk without shouting over everyone else. Servers moved through the gaps like they had memorized every chair leg in the building.
“I’m not nervous…”
That was a lie.
He was absolutely nervous.
This was stupid. Walking to a table shouldn’t have been hard, but it was. Why?
Then he saw her.
Noemi sat alone at a small round table beside one of the tall windows, turned slightly toward the glass as she watched people pass outside.
For half a second, Boran did not recognize her.
He knew it was Noemi. But she was not wearing the cloak from Ashen Hollow. She was not wrapped in battle gear, hood up, staff in hand, eyes sharp and ready to burn something.
She looked stunning.
Her dark hair was loose around her shoulders instead of tied back badly under a hood. She wore a soft cream blouse with sleeves that gathered at the wrists, and a dark red skirt that reached below her knees. There was a simple belt at her waist.
A small necklace rested at her throat—nothing flashy, just a tiny red stone that caught the Tavern’s warm light when she moved.
She looked very beautiful.
Boran stopped walking.
Noemi looked up.
Her eyes found him immediately.
For a second she just watched him, then one corner of her mouth lifted.
"Are you going to stand there?" she asked.
Boran's brain started working again, but not well.
"No," he said.
Then he walked to the table.
Noemi leaned back slightly as he approached, still smiling.
Boran sat across from her.
The chair made a small scraping sound. Too loud. Or maybe it only felt loud because he was suddenly aware of every stupid thing his body did. He placed his hands on the table, then realized his knuckles were still dirty from work, then moved them under the table.
Noemi noticed.
Of course she noticed.
"Were you working?" she asked.
"Yeah. I mean, I did some gathering today. That's all."
Boran looked at the table. There was a candle between them, small and yellow, with melted wax gathered around the base. It was easier to look at than her face.
"You look..." he started.
Noemi waited.
He could have said nice. That would be safe. He could have said different. That would be true and cowardly.
He swallowed.
"You look beautiful."
Boran looked up because silence became more painful than eye contact.
Noemi was still watching him, but her smile had changed. It was smaller now. Less teasing. Maybe a little surprised.
"Thank you," she said.
"Yeah."
"Yeah?"
"I mean... you're welcome."
She laughed softly.
Boran rubbed the side of his neck. "Sorry."
"For saying I look beautiful?"
"No. For... I don’t know…"
“It’s okay, Boran. Relax a bit,” she said softly. “I’m just here to have a drink with you—to get to know each other a little better.”
The smile stayed on her face for another second, then she tapped two fingers lightly on the table.
A translucent system page opened in front of Boran's eyes.
[Endless Tavern Menu]
Rows of food and drink appeared in neat glowing lines, with small prices beside each one.
"Have you eaten?" Noemi asked.
"Yes."
"That does not answer the real question."
"What is the real question?"
"Can you eat again?"
Boran looked at the system menu. His stomach, traitor that it was, answered before he did by remembering the smell of roasted meat and warm bread.
"I can eat more."
Her smile widened. “Good. Then I’ll order something small. Something to drink too.”
Boran looked back at the glowing menu, but before he could decide anything, Noemi raised one hand.
A server came over almost immediately.
Noemi ordered without looking at the system page. “A bottle of red wine. Two glasses. And something small with it. Cheese, olives, warm bread... whatever is good tonight.”
The server nodded and left. Boran was staring at the table.
Noemi stared at him for a second.
Then she laughed softly. "Boran."
"What?"
"You look nervous."
"I’m a little nervous…"
Noemi's expression softened, but the teasing stayed at the edge of her mouth. "At least you admit it."
"I said you looked beautiful. I think hiding that I am nervous would be pointless."
For a moment, Noemi did not answer.
Then she leaned back a little, still smiling. "Pointless, huh?"
"Yeah."
For a few seconds, they sat quietly. Boran looked at the fading system menu until it disappeared, then looked back at her.
The wine and small plate arrived before either of them said another word.
The server placed a dark glass bottle between them, followed by two simple glasses and a wooden plate arranged with white cheese, olives, roasted peppers, warm bread, and a small bowl of herbed oil. It was not a full meal. It was the kind of thing people ordered when they wanted to sit for a while.
Noemi poured first, not filling the glasses too much.
Boran watched the red wine catch the candlelight.
"You look serious," Noemi said.
"I am thinking if I should drink slowly."
"You should."
"Then I will."
He took a small sip. The wine was stronger than he expected, dry and warm in his throat.
Noemi picked up an olive and watched him over her glass. "Good?"
"Yeah," Boran said. "Better with the cheese, probably."
"Then eat the cheese."
He did.
Then he ate bread with the herbed oil, then a roasted pepper, then another piece of cheese before noticing Noemi was smiling at him.
"What?"
"You said you already ate."
"This is different," Boran said.
Noemi laughed again.
Boran felt himself relax a little.
Not completely. He did not know how to do completely. But enough that his shoulders lowered and his hands stopped searching for something to hold.
The first glass did not make him drunk. Not even close.
But it made the table feel less sharp around the edges. It made looking at Noemi easier. It made answering feel a little less like stepping into a fight.
Noemi rested her elbow on the table and looked at him.
"So," she said. "Where are you from, Boran?"
"Türkiye."
"I guessed from your name, but where in Türkiye?"
"Adana."
"Is it nice?"
"Hot," he said.
Noemi waited.
"Very hot," he added.
She smiled. "That is all?"
"No. The food is good. People are good. Summer is terrible. But I miss it."
Her smile softened a little. "That is better."
"What about you?"
"Italy," Noemi said. "Near Florence. My family has a bookstore."
Boran blinked. "A bookstore?"
"Small but cute one."
"That sounds nice."
"It was." She turned her glass slightly with her fingers, even though it was still empty. "I grew up reading fantasy stories. Heroes, monsters, magic, impossible journeys. Then the Gate happened and I thought..." She shrugged. "Maybe I wanted to stop only reading about other people's stories."
"You wanted your own."
"Something like that." She looked at him. "What about you? Why did you enter the Gate?"
Boran looked toward the window for a moment.
People kept passing outside.
"Money," he said first.
"For yourself?"
"For my family." Boran's thumb moved over the side of his glass. "My father was a soldier. He was injured when creatures came through in Türkiye. Badly injured. His spine..." He stopped for a second, searching for the right words. "He cannot walk now. He cannot leave the bed without help."
Noemi's expression changed at once.
"I'm sorry," she said quietly.
Boran nodded once. "My mother takes care of him. It is not easy. Medicine, treatment, bills... everything costs money. So I came here to earn."
Noemi was quiet for a moment. "Could anyone just enter from Türkiye? I mean, after paperwork and tests?"
"No."
"What did you need?"
"An official Gate license," Boran said. "Without that, you could not legally enter as an adventurer."
Noemi frowned a little. "And how did you get one?"
"Military service."
"Military service?"
"In Türkiye, after the attacks, the rule changed. If you wanted an adventurer entry license, you had to complete two years of mandatory military service first." He looked down at his glass. "Not a safety course. Not a weekend test. Two years."
Noemi's eyebrows rose. "Two years just for the card?"
"Yes."
"That is... a lot."
"It was." Boran rubbed his thumb over the side of the glass. "Weapons, field discipline, formations, physical training, survival basics. How to move with people. How not to freeze when things get bad."
Noemi absorbed that slowly. "Italy was not like that for me. I had tests, paperwork, a short safety course... but not forced service."
"Then it really was different."
"It was." She looked at him more carefully. "So when you say you came here to earn money, you mean you first had to give two years just to get permission."
"Yes."
"That is not small."
"No," Boran said. "It didn't feel small."
"Why would you know?" Boran said. "Italy has its own rules."
"It does, but not like that—at least not for me." She looked at him more carefully. "So you weren’t just chasing a story, or the thrill of a fight."
"No." Boran let out a small breath. "I don’t think I was ever that brave. I’m more focused on the end than the journey."
"Wanting to help your family is not less brave."
He looked down because he did not know what to do with that.
Noemi did not push. She waited.
"Okay. There was another reason too," Boran said after a while.
Noemi's voice softened. "You can tell me only if you want."
"I had a sister."
The words sat between them.
"Her name was Elif," Boran said. "She was younger. Annoying. Loud."
A small, painful smile touched his mouth.
"She loved games—really loved them. She was a true gamer, the kind who always wanted to break into the top hundred of whatever she played. If there was a leaderboard, she cared about it."
Noemi listened silently, her hand resting near her glass but not moving.
"She wanted to enter the Gate one day," Boran said. "We talked about it so much. Like it was a game. Like we would go together, clear dungeons, get strong, reach the ranking board." His throat tightened. "I promised her we would."
Noemi's face was soft now, careful.
"What happened?" she asked, almost in a whisper.
Boran looked at the candle.
For a moment, the flame became too bright.
"The attack happened," he said. "She died. My father survived, but... you know."
Noemi reached across the table, slowly enough that he could pull away if he wanted.
He did not.
Her fingers touched the back of his hand.
"I'm so sorry, Boran."
He nodded once.
The words were simple. They helped more than they should have.
"I came here for money," he said. "For my father. For my mother. But also because of Elif. She wanted the board. So I want it too. Maybe it is stupid."
"No," Noemi said.
"It is."
"No." Her fingers tightened slightly over his hand. "It is sad. It is heavy. But it is not stupid."
Boran swallowed and looked at her.
For a second, he almost told her the rest. That he had not truly chosen Tank. That the System had boxed him into it from the beginning. That he had wanted something sharper, something easier to understand, something that looked more like the heroes people imagined.
But the words stayed behind his teeth.
Not yet.
Noemi seemed to understand that there was a wall there, and she did not try to climb it.
Instead she asked, "Then why Tank?"
Boran blinked.
"I mean..." Noemi tilted her head a little. "After giving two years just to get here, and if you came because of your family, why choose the class that gets hit first? Why not something safer? Like a damage dealer?"
Boran looked down at their hands for a moment.
"I wanted something strong," he said.
"From what I saw, Tank is strong."
"Not the way I meant."
"What did you want?"
"I don't know. Swordsman. Spearman. Something active. Something that attacks. Something people look at and think, yes, that person is dangerous."
"And a Tank is not dangerous?"
Boran shook his head. "No, no, no. It felt like a burden."
"Then why stay with it?"
Boran was quiet for a moment.
Because the System had chosen it for him. But he did not want to turn this into that conversation. Not tonight. Not before he understood it himself.
So he gave the answer that had become true after the fact.
"I don't know how to explain it properly," Boran said.
His voice came out lower than before.
Noemi did not interrupt.
Boran looked at the candle instead of her face.
"At first, it felt like a punishment. Everyone else gets something that looks like a weapon. A sword. A spear. A gun. Fire. Lightning. Something that says, go forward, kill the monster, win. And I got a shield."
He swallowed.
"A shield says something else. It says, stand there. It says, let it come to you. It says, if something goes wrong, you are the thing between the monster and everyone else."
His hand tightened around the glass until his knuckles paled.
"I hated that at first. I really did. I looked at that wooden shield and thought... this is it? This is what I get? I came all this way, gave two years, left everything behind, and the System gives me a piece of wood so I can be bitten first?"
He gave a small laugh, but there was no humor in it.
"Then I went into the first portal. And people stood behind me."
He stopped for a breath.
"That changes things."
Noemi's eyes stayed on him.
Boran kept talking because if he stopped, he knew he would not start again.
"When someone is behind you, it is different. You hear them breathing. You hear them moving. You hear when they panic. And if you step aside, even for one second, something reaches them. Maybe they survive. Maybe they don't. But the choice happens in front of you."
His jaw tightened.
"I don't like that choice."
The words were simple, but they came out hard.
"I don't like seeing something get past me. I don't like hearing someone shout behind my back. I don't like turning around and finding out I was too slow. I don't like that feeling."
He looked down at the wine.
"So maybe Tank felt like a burden at first. But maybe it was the only thing I could understand. If I am in front, at least I know where the danger is. If I am holding the line, then nobody behind me has to wonder if I will run. I might fail. I know that. I am not saying I can stop everything."
His voice roughened for half a second.
"But I can try."
Noemi was very still.
Boran finally looked at her.
"That is why I stayed with it. Not because it is heroic. Not because I like getting hurt. I don't. Pain is pain. Fear is fear. I still feel both."
He tapped one finger once against the side of his glass.
"But when something comes at us, I’d rather it hit me first. I can live with that more easily than the alternative."
The words sat between them.
Boran looked away again, embarrassed by how much he had said.
"So, yeah," he finished quietly. "Someone has to stand at the front. I think I can be that person."
The answer came too easily. Too directly. It made him uncomfortable after he said it, but it was true.
"That sounds like you."
"You barely know me."
"I know enough to say that."
Boran looked at her again. "I didn't like it at first. The shield felt... disappointing..."
"And now?"
"Now I think maybe it fits me."
Noemi’s expression softened. Her fingers were still resting lightly on his hand. After a moment, she seemed to realize it and pulled back.
So he asked the question back.
"Your family knows you are here?"
"They know." Noemi's mouth twisted slightly. "They are not happy about it."
"Because it is dangerous?"
"Because it is dangerous, stupid, unstable, and according to my mother, a terrible use of my education."
"What did you study?"
"Literature."
Boran stared at her. "What?"
Noemi laughed. "What is wrong?"
"Nothing. It makes sense. Somehow."
"What can I say? I love to read and write."
"That also makes sense."
Noemi turned her glass slowly between her fingers.
"Yesterday was rough," she said.
"Yeah."
"How are your arms?"
Boran looked down. The cuts from the Skarn were healed enough not to bleed, but faint lines still marked his forearms under the sleeves. Light had fixed the dangerous parts. The rest had been left for natural healing and cheap restoration.
"Fine."
Noemi gave him a look.
"They hurt a little," he corrected.
"Better."
"What about you?"
"Also fine."
He gave her the same look.
She rolled her eyes. "My legs hurt. My mana channels feel burned. I slept like a dead person and still woke up tired. Happy?"
"Not happy."
"You know what I mean."
Boran nodded.
Noemi took an olive, slower.
The candle between them flickered. Its light touched the red stone at her throat, then her cheek, then the edge of her smile. Boran found himself looking too long again.
This time he did not force his eyes down immediately.
Noemi noticed that too.
"What?" she asked.
"You look good in normal clothes," Boran said.
Her eyebrows rose slightly.
He felt his face heat, but he kept going because stopping halfway would be worse. "I mean, battle gear is fine. But this is different. It suits you."
Noemi's smile became smaller again.
"Thank you," she said.
"Yeah."
Then he looked down at his cup, but at least this time he had said it properly.
After a while, Noemi turned her glass between her fingers. "So, what did you do before all this? Before training for the Gate, I mean."
"Normal things."
"That is not an answer."
Boran thought about it. "I studied. Trained. Helped at home when I could."
"That sounds normal."
"It was." He looked at the wine in his glass. "I didn't know normal could become something I missed."
Noemi's teasing faded a little, but she did not make the moment heavy.
"My normal was books," she said. "Shelves, dust, customers asking too many questions." Her smile softened. "My mother used to say I would disappear into stories if nobody pulled me out for dinner."
"Did you?"
"Sometimes." She looked at him over her glass. "Fantasy stories were the worst. Heroes, monsters, magic, impossible journeys... I read all of it. Then the Gate happened, and suddenly people were walking into places that sounded like the books."
"So you went in."
"Eventually."
“Even if your family wasn’t okay with it?”
Noemi made a face. "Yes."
Boran understood that immediately. "Mine wasn't either."
"Did they try to stop you?"
"Yes."
"Did it work?"
"No."
"Same."
They both laughed a little at that.
Noemi lifted her glass. "To disappointing our families."
Boran hesitated, then lifted his too. "That sounds bad."
Their glasses touched with a quiet click.
He took a small sip. The wine was still stronger than he expected, but the warmth was less surprising now.
Noemi watched him for a moment. "Do you regret it?"
"Entering the Gate?"
"Yes."
Boran looked toward the window. People passed outside, their shapes moving through the Tavern light and disappearing again.
"Sometimes," he said. "It doesn’t feel the way I thought it would."
Noemi did not look disappointed by the answer.
"Same," she said.
For a little while, neither of them said anything. It was not an empty silence. It was the kind where both people were thinking about home and trying not to ruin the wine with it.
Then Noemi looked up again. "What about food?"
Boran blinked. "What?"
"Adana. You said the food is good. What is the best thing?"
"Kebap."
"Of course."
"What do you mean of course?"
"I thought you’d say something I’d never heard of."
"I can tell you thousands of different dishes from there."
Noemi laughed softly. "Fine. Tell me about it."
So he did—awkwardly at first, because describing food in another language made him feel ridiculous. He started with Adana, because that was home: Adana kebab with its smoky heat, the flatbread that soaked up the fat, the sharp bite of sumac onions, roasted tomatoes and peppers, and ice-cold ayran that made your teeth ache.
But once he began, he couldn’t stop. He drifted from his city to the rest of Türkiye like the words had been waiting: lahmacun thin enough to fold, mantı drowning in garlicky yogurt and buttered pepper, gözleme crisp at the edges, mercimek çorbası on rainy days, pide pulled from the oven with cheese or meat, simit from street carts, börek layered with impossible amounts of pastry, and baklava so sweet it almost hurt.
"Turkish cuisine is very wide," Boran said, a little more confident now. "And very good. Not just kebap. Every city has something different. Sometimes every family has something different."
Noemi smiled over the rim of her glass. "You sound proud."
"I am," Boran said. Then he hesitated, glanced at her, and added, "But of course, the effect the name leaves behind is not as strong as Italian cuisine."
Noemi's eyebrows rose.
Boran realized how it sounded and quickly lifted one hand. "I mean outside. In the world. If someone says Italian food, everyone immediately understands. Pasta, pizza, wine, all of it. Turkish food is famous too, I guess, but not like that."
"So you are complimenting me and insulting your own country at the same time?"
"No," Boran said. "I am complimenting Italian food and being realistic."
"Very diplomatic."
Noemi laughed softly, warm rather than teasing.
Boran laughed too.
Noemi ordered a little more wine and another small plate.
Boran paid before she could.
"Boran."
"What?"
"I could have paid."
"I know."
"Then why did you?"
"Because I wanted to."
She looked at him for a second, then leaned back with a small smile. "That is very dangerous."
"Paying for wine?"
"No. Saying things like that honestly."
They shared the second plate slowly. Neither of them rushed anymore. The conversation became smaller after that, but not empty. Noemi told him about a customer who used to come to her family's bookstore. Boran told her about a street vendor near his school who always shouted the same joke every morning.
Noemi laughed at that.
Boran watched her laugh and felt the warm, strange pressure in his chest again.
The bottle was almost empty when Noemi finally looked toward the Tavern doors.
"I should go," she said.
Boran did not answer right away. He knew she was right. It was late.
But still, he did not want the table to end.
"Okay," he said.
Noemi's smile softened. "You say that even when you don't want to."
"Yeah," Boran said.
Noemi's eyes stayed on him.
Boran felt his face warm, but he did not look away this time. "I mean, I know you should go. I just don't want this to end yet."
For a moment, the noise of the Tavern seemed to move farther away.
Then Noemi reached across the table and touched the back of his hand again, light and brief.
"Good," she said.
"Good?"
"I don’t want it to end, either."
Boran blinked.
Noemi stood before he could think of an answer. "Come on. Walk me out."
They left the small table by the window and stepped back into the larger noise of the Endless Tavern. The warmth, the laughter, the smell of food and wine, all of it pressed around them again. But it felt different now. Less like a crowd. More like something outside the small space they had made together.
They walked side by side toward the exit.
Their shoulders did not touch, but they were close enough that Boran noticed every time her sleeve moved near his hand.
Outside, the Hub streets were cooler.
The sky above the Hub looked strange at night. There were some rips in it, and bits of color moving around. People were still walking between buildings, but it was quieter than earlier. Adventurers slowed down. Vendors put away their signs.
Noemi stopped a few steps from the Tavern entrance and looked up.
"It is strange," she said.
"What?"
"This place. It never feels peaceful. But sometimes it almost does."
Boran looked around.
"Almost," he said.
Noemi looked at him. "Thank you for tonight."
"I should thank you. You invited me."
"It was nice," she said.
Boran's throat felt tight again.
"It was," he said. Then, because he had already decided to stop hiding every simple thing, he added, "I want to do it again."
Noemi did not answer immediately.
She only looked at him, and the silence stretched just long enough for Boran to wonder if he had said too much.
Then she stepped closer.
Not too close. Just enough that he noticed the smell of wine and something soft from her hair.
"I want that too," she said.
Boran forgot what he was supposed to do with his hands.
Noemi noticed, of course.
She reached up and lightly touched his shoulder. The touch was gentle, almost nothing, but Boran felt it through his whole body.
"Good night, Boran."
"Good night, Noemi."
She leaned in and kissed his cheek.
It was quick. Warm.
Then she stepped back before he could react properly.
“Don’t look so shocked,” she said with a soft laugh. “See you tomorrow?”
"Yes."
She gave him one last smile, then turned and walked back into the Hub.
Boran stayed where he was for a few seconds.
He watched until the crowd took her, until the dark red of her skirt disappeared between two adventurers.
Only then did he breathe out.
For a little while, there was only the ghost of wine on his tongue, the warmth on his cheek, and Noemi's voice saying she wanted it too.
Boran touched his cheek once, then immediately dropped his hand because someone might see.
Nobody cared.
His body was tired. His arms hurt. His shoulder ached. Tomorrow would bring missions, money, levels, danger, and everything else waiting for him.
But tonight had not been about any of that.
Tonight, for a few hours, he had not felt like someone standing alone in front of a monster.
He had just been Boran.
And someone had wanted to sit with him.
That was enough.
For now.