Under a clear and sunny sky, Caro spotted a wooden sign reading "Maelzu Town." Yet unexpectedly, the town felt unnaturally quiet.

The journey hadn’t been long, but it still took her a full day to arrive. She’d even slept hidden in a field overnight—luckily, no wild boars came rooting around after dark.

She had finally reached the third town since leaving Carwen Town.

Stepping inside, a subtle unease washed over her—this place had a story. If pressed, she’d call it a bard’s intuition. Even while approaching, something felt off: too few people. For a town, far too few.

Some fields had workers, but their numbers were disappointingly sparse. Many plots lay completely deserted. Unless something had happened, this shouldn’t be normal. Carwen Town hadn’t been like this. Could it be linked to Arnold’s incident? Had the Golden Lily Knights captured him right here? Had disaster struck this town?

Harp strapped to her back, Caro walked on. First priority: lodging. To her surprise, a flicker of nervousness stirred. This world wasn’t like her old one—no online bookings, no verified reviews. No safety net. What if she chose poorly? Drugged, knocked out, sold into slavery… reduced to a helpless plush toy? History held such tales. Yet her recent encounter with the Golden Lily Knights suggested the kingdom’s institutions were fairly reliable. Maybe she worried too much.

She had about six silver coins left—roughly a few hundred yuan in purchasing power. Lodging usually cost twenty to thirty copper coins. Not like her old world. This land’s productivity was low, war ever-present. Enough to last a while: gathering stories, writing tales, studying music. All cost money… She’d never learned to earn. In her past life, wealth came effortlessly; she died with plenty unused. How would she save now?

*Should I try working at a tavern?*

Here, newly awakened youths always started with odd jobs. No profession granted instant independence. Even swordsmen often apprenticed as blacksmiths—rumor said forging blades taught skills like "Might." True or not?

As a bard, a tavern was the natural choice. Wine was a poet’s romance—drinking deep, verses flowing. She wanted to play the part. Plus, adventurers’ tales might sharpen her craft…

But one problem remained.

She was a woman.

Not that she looked down on women. But societal norms… a girl working a tavern? She’d never tasted alcohol. What if her tolerance was anime-tier—drunk from a single liquor-filled chocolate? Too risky.

And her looks… not unattractive, though her figure was slight (likely some internal imbalance). What if a lecherous adventurer targeted her? Drank her under, took advantage… ending up a helpless cream puff with no one to turn to? Not even knowing the father? Tragic.

So—beautiful maiden? No.

Handsome youth? …Maybe.

Cross-dressing came to mind. But her makeup skills weren’t reliable. Passing as male wasn’t hard; avoiding detection was. Even as a pretty boy, teasing was inevitable. One unnatural gesture could invite trouble.

Still… after weighing it all, Caro decided: she’d take the risk. No risk, no reward. She wasn’t one of those overly cautious types who never moved without absolute certainty. She knew her limits. If she became a cream puff… well, as long as she didn’t die, it was survivable.

Honestly? Even death wasn’t new to her. Dying for ideals, on the adventurer’s path—that felt perfectly aligned with a bard’s romantic aesthetics.

She found a decent-looking inn, rented a room, and disguised herself immediately. Thankfully, this world lacked strict census checks. After circling the town, she spotted a likely tavern: underground, bluestone steps leading down. Deliberately hidden. Probably flooded in rain. *Not my problem.*

Gathering her courage, she pushed the door open.

—Definitely a tavern.

The moment she entered, cheap liquor fumes assaulted her nostrils. She couldn’t help but frown.

Surprisingly spacious—far bigger than outside suggested. A dozen tables, only a few occupied. Business was slow.

Caro’s gaze swept past patrons without lingering, avoiding offense. She approached the bar: just a large, rough-hewn wooden table.

“Excuse me,” she said, lowering her voice (though doubtfully effective), “are you the owner? I’m Caro.”

“Master Caro,” the man replied. Thick, muscular arms radiated strength. “I own this place. What do you need?”

Relief washed over her. “Apologies for the intrusion… Are you hiring?”

“Seeking work?” He seemed surprised. “Newly awakened? What’s your profession?”

“A bard.”

His eyebrows lifted. “A bard? Haven’t met one in ages. Few pass through towns like this. Few choose this path. Can you play?”

“I can learn.”

Caro’s confident reply left the tavern owner duly impressed. He nodded. “Then work here. Pay… um, two silver coins weekly. Acceptable?”

*…Won’t even cover rent.*

Lodging cost two silver and ten copper weekly. Renting might drop it to one silver. Surviving on the equivalent of a hundred yuan? Possible… barely.

“Duties: mix and serve drinks. Few customers, so light work. Perform sometimes? Might draw more patrons.”

Ah. Mutual benefit. “If so,” he added, eyes on her elegant harp, “I’ll consider raising your pay, Master Caro.”

*External props secure opportunity…* She recalled “success philosophy” from old books. Good thing she wasn’t tone-deaf. Treat the harp like a guitar? Fake it. This wasn’t a noble banquet—just a small-town tavern. A catchy melody would suffice. Worst case: whistle. Later, craft a wooden guitar with her wages.

“One free drink daily,” he added. An employee perk. Alcohol was a luxury for newcomers—unlike food, purely recreational.

Terms settled quickly. Shift: 9 a.m. to 10 p.m. Long, but adventurers kept these hours. Adults had… other plans after ten. *Making babies*, likely.

A worry flickered: *Is he smitten? Using long shifts to win me over?* Her disguise felt shaky. Maybe already exposed… Either way, she wouldn’t touch the free drink.

*Am I overthinking?*

Still. Better safe than sorry.