"*Heh~*" Alte smirked teasingly at Favna, regarding her like a clown. "I saw right through your little scheme ages ago."

Favna fell silent. Had someone lifted her mask, they’d have seen her flushed, utterly ashamed face—and feet twitching, desperate to bolt.

Seeing her mute, Alte continued smoothly.

"I thought I was dealing with some toe-picking middle-aged healer mocking me. Turns out you’re a girl. I’ll let you off the hook this time. Otherwise? I’d have dragged you to the Dragon Knights Order for a little 'training'."

Relief flickered in Favna’s eyes. She spoke softly, "S-so… about what happened before…"

She trailed off, but Alte caught the plea. Unhurried, the Dragon Knight replied,

"True, you’re a girl. But since you’re free, we should chat properly. After all, I’ve still got losses to settle."

"*Eep…*"

Stripped of the internet’s shield, the real-life "Silver Dragon’s Dream" was startlingly soft and timid—still unable to meet his gaze. The contrast made Alte wonder if she’d sent a stand-in. But the phone notification confirmed it: this was indeed the healer he’d met in-game.

"I’ve got questions. Want a drink? My treat."

"I… I already ordered," Favna murmured tightly.

Her body stiffened; her "dragon tail" coiled tightly around the stool leg. How could she relax? Across from her sat a top-tier Dragon Knight—power and authority enough to overshadow her completely. Add her social anxiety, and she felt like a prisoner under interrogation: every word demanded an answer.

"Fine," Alte said with a glance at the menu. "Though this place only serves girly drinks…" He waved the maid over. "Excuse me—two orders of egg fried rice, please."

"Certainly. Table 125, adding two fried rice orders."

The maid glided off with a smile. Favna muttered, "I don’t need any…"

Alte ignored her.

Silence hung as he studied the so-called "internet giant." Bundled head-to-toe, her face mostly masked—yet her gem-like eyes hinted at delicate beauty.

"U-um…" Favna flinched under his stare. "Is… something on my face?"

"My apologies," Alte said gently. "Miss Silver Dragon, your eyes are lovely. I got carried away."

"*Hehe…* R-really? My sister says that too!" She scratched her head, flustered, floating on a tiny cloud of joy.

"But I’m here for an explanation from 'Silver Dragon’s Dream'," Alte added.

"*Ah!*"

Favna froze. The stool felt like an electric chair.

"Miss 'Silver Dragon’s Dream'…"

"I-I-I’m Favna!" she stammered.

Each utterance of that online alias burned her cheeks. It was like parents solemnly reciting your cringey username—mortifying.

"Favna… A lovely name," Alte said lightly. "Now, Miss Favna: yesterday’s raid got me banned and cost me gear worth 350 gold. Your thoughts?"

*Just sitting here watching…*

Head bowed, she mumbled, "I’ll… farm it again and give it back…"

"Good."

Alte wasn’t stingy. That gear was ultra-rare—unbuyable, farmed only. He’d only wanted the foul-mouthed healer to help him grind it. He just never expected *this*: a soft, flustered girl. The persona gap left him reeling.

"And the 1,000 gold?"

Favna just wanted to repay it and vanish home.

Alte waved a hand. "I know you hunt part-time grinding gigs in-game. Consider it payment for tasks ahead. A certain Miss Silver Dragon won’t refuse… right?"

"Y-yes…"

If social anxiety could say no, she wouldn’t be here. But with no income and half a month of instant noodles behind her, she couldn’t afford pride. Starvation wasn’t a joke.

"Simple tasks," Alte explained. "I’m busy. Just handle my dailies." He ended with a smirk. "For a sharp-tongued, game-loving Miss Silver Dragon? Should be easy."

Favna bristled but stayed silent. *Don’t bite the hand that feeds you.*

Just then, the maid set down two plates. "Egg fried rice is ready. The young lady’s signature drink will follow."

"Go ahead and eat," Alte said, turning to Favna. "Your eyes are practically glued to the rice."

After weeks of noodles, the aroma made her stomach growl. Hopeful eyes lifted. "R-really… may I?"

"Of course."

Alte dug in—no ceremony. Efficiency over elegance.

"*Mmm…* Thank you."

Favna patted her rumbling stomach, shed her fear, removed her mask, and took small, happy bites.

Alte’s gaze snagged on her face: a silver-haired girl, utterly cute, lost in blissful contentment. He blinked, momentarily captivated.

"The signature drinks are here," the maid announced, placing down a glass.

Thirsty and slightly relaxed, Favna sipped the sweet strawberry juice—then froze.

Two straws?

She peeked at the menu and whispered,

"'Couple’s Limited Edition…?' *Huh?*"

Alte: …

Under his bewildered stare, Favna wished she could vanish on the spot—preferably hoisting a train and fleeing back to Earth.