“True, the logic holds,” Cang Xiaoxi said, “but those two guards at the entrance memorized my face. Haven’t you considered how we’d explain it if the *real* Prince Shaya suddenly showed up?”

“Then we’ll deal with it when it happens,” Jikuhir replied without a flicker of worry, spreading her hands fearlessly. “Even if we bump into that so-called Prince Shaya—do you honestly think anyone in this world could stop us?”

“…Sigh. I give up. Why does your brain only kick in at moments like this?”

Cang Xiaoxi had already been swayed by Jikuhir’s twisted logic.

Or rather—he had no choice but to be.

With the deed done, his only options were avoiding further misunderstandings and steering clear of those soldiers who’d seen his face.

One step at a time.

“Never mind. Let’s just get the main task done.”

With a resigned sigh, he turned to Jikuhir, whose smile shone bright and unbothered.

And so, the peculiar trio—one human, one dragon, one wolf—headed straight for the quintessential isekai starting point: the Adventurers Guild.

“Hello. I’d like to register as an adventurer.”

With practiced ease and led by local guide Jikuhir, the duo plus their canine companion soon arrived.

The interior mirrored the classic tavern setup from countless isekai novels—except the adventurers inside weren’t burly brutes, but neatly dressed professionals…

Wait. That greatsword over there? Ridiculously huge. You sure you can even *draw* it from your back?

“I’m so sorry, little one,” the young, lovely guild staffer said with an apologetic smile, “but the minimum registration age is ten. You’ll need to wait a few more years.”

Cang Xiaoxi hid beneath his hooded cloak, yet his voice and stature clearly didn’t match a ten-year-old’s. After all, locals here endured intense labor from childhood—unlike Earth’s tech-pampered modern humans. Average builds were taller, sturdier. No wonder the experienced staffer misjudged him.

“Oh! And the same goes for the little sister beside you,” she added, noticing Jikuhir snickering at Cang Xiaoxi’s rejection. She patted Jikuhir’s head fondly. “Both you and your brother are under age. Please come back in a few years?”

Her words, though kind, ignited fury in the little loli.

“Pfft! *Little sister*? Even waiting years won’t make her grow taller,” Cang Xiaoxi snickered, unable to hold back.

After years alone with Jikuhir, he hadn’t heard her mistaken for a child in ages—and now *sister*? Even his usually stoic self couldn’t resist laughing.

“I—I’m NOT a kid! And I’m NOT his sister! Don’t say things you don’t know!” Jikuhir roared.

Hating being infantilized above all, her imposing aura flared.

Sensing the killing intent, Fenrir let out an “awoo!” and leaped from her arms to hide. At times like this, neither “Mom” nor “Dad” had time for pets.

“Um… little sister, are you okay?” the staffer asked nervously, swallowing hard. “You look pale. Should I call a healer? Excuse me—is anyone here who can heal?”

Unaware of the Dragon Sovereign’s wrath, her kindness became the ultimate disrespect.

“I said—I’m NOT a child! Show this Sovereign respect! I am the Drag—”

“My apologies for the trouble,” Cang Xiaoxi smoothly cut in. “She’s fine. No need to worry.”

In one swift motion, he gently grasped Jikuhir’s tail hidden beneath her cloak. Pain flickered—then a strange, tingling warmth.

The loli Dragon Sovereign instantly went limp.

“N-no… not the tail… you can’t…”

“Awoo!”

As Jikuhir’s face flushed crimson and she slumped, Fenrir leaped to catch his flustered master.

The staffer’s lips twitched, utterly baffled by the bizarre trio.

“Ahem. About age—don’t judge by looks. I *am* ten,” Cang Xiaoxi said firmly, redirecting her attention.

“Eh?! Really?”

His unwavering tone left little room for doubt.

“Well… please fill out these forms.”

She handed one to the boy, another to the girl shooting him a resentful glance. Under her guidance, they completed the paperwork.

“Mr. Cang Xiaoxi and Miss Cang Kuku… such… *unique* names,” the staffer murmured, lips twitching again.

Both names were vanishingly rare here—even royal lines descended from the original Sage had long abandoned naming styles reminiscent of another world’s Chinese culture. Suspicious? Yes. But the guild was a job broker, not an interrogator. She pressed on.

“Please undergo class assessment. Your adventurer rank will be adjusted accordingly.”

“A class test, huh…” Cang Xiaoxi murmured, glancing at Jikuhir.

After her confident “Mm,” he nodded. “We’ll leave it to you.”

Typical ten-year-olds maxed out at mid-lower tier; prodigies neared middle tier. The staffer guessed these two—mature beyond years—were at least high lower tier. She smiled confidently…

…until the results flashed.

“Initial middle tier and mid-middle tier?! You’ve *both* reached middle tier?!” she shrieked.

Gasps rippled through the guild.

“No way! Ten years old and already middle tier? Noble kids?”

“Rich kids don’t become adventurers, idiot!”

“Either prodigies or relentless trainers—unlike *you*, who barely hit lower tier at ten.”

“Hey! We agreed not to mention that! I’m nearly upper tier now!”

“And your age? Still called ‘mister,’ right?”

…

Laughter filled the hall. Pride swelled for the promising newcomers. Several veteran teams began scouting them.

Yet the duo showed no pride—only gravity. One face, deeply solemn.

“Jikuhir…”

“Mmm… sorry. I just… couldn’t hold back.”

The girl trembled slightly; the boy stayed stern; even Fenrir pawed his own face in puppy-like exasperation.

Wait… since when could a dog do *that*?

“Ahem! Congratulations—you’re now official adventurers,” the staffer recovered swiftly, handing them E-rank cards (one tier above beginner standard). “Remember: no monster-slaying quests due to age.”

Cang Xiaoxi excused himself—to find an inn, and to *discuss* restraint with the Dragon Sovereign.

They left.

“You… did it on purpose, didn’t you?” Cang Xiaoxi frowned outside, eyeing the little loli whistling while looking away. “Tested one tier higher than agreed.”

“Xi, Xi’er! What are you saying? How could I?!” Jikuhir stammered, flustered. “Little Kuku listens to Xi’er *most*! I’d never—*hic*—it was an accident…”

“Thank you.”

“Eh?! Xi’er, what did you just say?!”

His sudden thanks stunned her. In three years, he’d never said it once.

He kept his poker face. “Let’s find the inn. It’ll be dark soon.”

He quickened his pace toward a modest commoners’ lodge. No matter how she pressed, he walked on, silent.

“Tch… Xi’er really is something,” she whispered inside the inn, watching his dependable back—a maturity far beyond his years. Her heart swelled bittersweet.

She touched her slightly flushed nose.

“If you already know who I did it all for… why not just accept my feelings sooner?”