That Unique Monster Who Just Got the 'Consciousness' Passive Skill

Lost, huh? That's me. That's "lost." One sorry lost lamb who wandered off without the flock, and ran straight to the wolf's den.

❮ — Head over to the trading grounds. 1/1 ❯

The wolf's den could also be referred to as the Guild Bureau. I knew I shouldn't have come here on my own, but here I was anyway. And now… ❮ — Witness the general's fury. 0/1 ❯ That's right—at least my predicament seemed to be part of the quest.

"Whatever comes my way, I'll handle it right!" Or so I said earlier, filled with confidence. "I'll deal with it just aaaaall right, babe!" I said that, too. "I'll be fine, really, I'm not half as lost as I was moments ago, so from now on, you may cease worrying, babe!" I talked a lot, didn't I? And now, I'm simply as lost as ever.

When, all suddenly, two huge hands were slammed down onto the wooden counter. I was right in front of it, with my eyes cast downward, so oblivious to what to say, and it made me jolt again. It went Slam, and even though I saw it coming, my eyes still shot open and my breathing quickened.

Aaah, but no, I'm not surprised by this anymore. Rather, I shouldn't. How would I? Let the crude general person behave as he wished and harass me more!

There was a counter and a stool. While I sat defeated on the stool, it wasn't certainly the first time the hands plunged right flat onto the counter's surface, expressing some kind of hot rage toward me. Then again, he performed the same move and slapped the wooden surface hard with his two hands. The wooden counter stirred and trembled while the sheets of paper rustled up and down, slightly jumping on every occasion.

What a rude pair of hands. If that parade continued on and on, I'd get angry. I mean, the poor papers… surely, they haven't asked for this telling off either. They were lost. Just like myself. In the wolf's den. How rude anyway to do such a thing to the papers. They were important, after all, so why be so crude? Also, both the counter and myself didn't like all the rage leaking through the crude general, so he had better stop, didn't he? He had such an annoying wrinkled look on his face.

Oh, and he spoke again. "—And I'm the one who oughta be wincing, kid!" What a pain, even grimacing at his harassing behavior earned me some blame, now. I was strong, so I could wince however much I liked. But he spoke again. "Now, explain me, then," he yelled. "What're you brat doing here, eh?"

"D-Dunno."

"With respect!" The hands were slammed in the same fashion as before.

"...I don't know, sir."

"That's what I like."

I clicked my tongue… but the hands didn't overlook my "rudeness" again, and they were slammed flat right onto the important papers when the general made it clear he had said "with respect," so there was no clicking my tongue to be heard. When I deeply sighed, looking him in the eyes, the general shook his head again and murmured I was a brat.

"The papers. Your documents. Tell me what's this about, kid. Very simple! Your name; your party's name; your adventurer's identification and license; your magic element; and the number of heads you got us here!"

"But I—"

"No buts only butts, son!"

"Oh."

"The ladies', of course!"

"Hm."

"Argh, but yeah, your papers. From what I can see, all you brought us is your loot! What's this about, now, son? You know you got to qualify so you're allowed actions on the battlefield… I mean, you've been told, haven't you? That business we all go about here ain't so much about the monster hunters' usual affair, you see, so how is it that you…" The general sighed.

"It's a wonder to me, yeah? Naturally! …Brave adventurers like you, there ain't a ton, you see, but there are still some. An' you an' your cute little face… I can't seem to recognize it. C'mon! You're just a kiddo. That loot can't be yours, can it? That's a warlord we got here, you see. Must've stolen it from another party, eh? And hey, funny thing is all that being told ain't even part of—"

"That isn't true," I protested, adding a "sir" a little late. I protested and assured the general, who seemed to be raising a fuss about more than my original sin (that was not to be able to fill the documents handed over to me, not having any of the stuff he called as license, identification plate, and whatnot), but who even said I couldn't have possibly gotten my loot on my own. So that was another problem, according to the man, and there were other problems coming after that one he would mention so briefly. "My orc head I collected myself, sir!" I said I'd get angry if that went on for too long, and so that's what I did albeit only slightly.

"See? You're stirring again, sonny," he told me. "Can't be helping us, I'm telling you. Told you already, didn't I? Do I gotta tell you brat again? Know it. I'll be losing my patience now."

To put it briefly again: One lost lamb in the wolf's den. Normally, it was the wolf's job to go and get itself some sheep. In my case, it was the lost lamb who seemed to have been careless and ended up in the enemy's den. Ah, but whatever. Anytime I want I can turn into the wolf here, so I should be all right. These people weren't so strong, after all, but well. They knew better than me about life.

​ So what was this mess about anyway? The papers. The important papers. Stupid papers. Always papers. I simply wanted to trade my loot against the human's silvers, or some kind of currency, for the sake of the quest I was given by the System. Look where it got me.

I was just following the quest, wasn't I, so what to do now, exactly? Then again, there was still the fact that the quest wasn't so explicit and clear anymore. Remembering my instructions—to witness the general's rage—I didn't panic at all or made to leave because maybe this situation was still under control. With the orcs, I was seemingly in trouble, too, but everything turned out fine thanks to the quest's storyline.

Still, what the heck, man. It was a pain to even be here, not to mention being yelled at so intently. So you could say that, despite the System's stance of simply being a "witness" to all that, I was still fighting my own fight and trying to sell my merch. My warlord orc head. There must have been something I could do in order to pull that—

Think, think, think.

Everything did go like this: With my babe wishing me luck, I took off to complete the quest. Off to the Guild Bureau, then to the trading grounds of the facility. The babe had indicated "right up ahead" and that was correct.

Following a path bustling with a great many people, going back and forth between their own destinations. Up till that point, everything was still fine, right? Hmm, at the rear, the field was very broad and extended. There were still plenty of adventurers swarming, but it wasn't so crowded. With much ease, I sailed on, without yet a problem in sight.

I passed by the same guffawing dwarf and his many armors, swords, and axes, I also passed by the paladin's healing house, and along the way were some other places—wonders of civilization—that caught my eye. People, mostly adventurers, formed circles and seemed to train together, or something, and they also gathered around mages and alchemists as they dealt in scrolls and other notorious magical devices.

After one week of existence, I could say that the world was rich, so I liked it.

And before long, I arrived at the Guild's quarters. There were direction panels. As I had naturally learned how to speak a tongue fluently, by basically stealing the "skill," let's say, from an individual, I had learned how to read. Letters formed words, and I could comprehend them.

A G-letter followed by a u, i, l, and d formed the word Guild. Words were amazing. I could read and understand the words "Guild Bureau" without anyone saying it out loud. Pretty damn cool, if you wanted my opinion. The whole facility that the Guild's quarters were was a surprising one. In a few words, though it was the same kind of quickly-built house as most of the other "constructions" of the rear, that one seemed way sturdier and bigger.

One direction panel below the biggest Guild Bureau-panel, I could read many a word, but there was a particular one that got my attention— Playin— No, Trading Grounds.

Many people formed many lines. At each end of the numerous lines was found an entrance in which people went, lingered no more than two minutes, then went out by the same door. They had their loot when they got in, but it vanished when they came out. Silvers, eh?

Currency was one very important aspect of the human races' civilization, therefore people were happy to trade their loot. Considering whether I should become rich or not because maybe wealth was part of one's mightiness, I stepped into the structure and was warmly greeted in by some humans, who, when they saw the "young and tender" human kid come in, all guffawed at "that kid who's barely got a thing to do here comin' with his sack o' heads so he gets his share!" and that was my entrance.

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