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The gate guard carefully recorded the name "Irene," writing it with the most serious expression of his life and what he believed to be his most elegant penmanship. When he finished, he held the paper out to Catherine.
"Miss Irene, could you check if I spelled it correctly?"
Catherine, naturally, remembered her fabricated background perfectly and nodded at once. "It's correct."
"Irene… what a beautiful name. It suits your temperament perfectly." The soldier straightened proudly. "By the way, my name is Albert, Albert Orson. I just joined the city guard, but I'm already a third-class private. My superiors have entrusted me with important duties…"
Catherine maintained a polite smile while listening to Albert's self-introduction. It was awkward, but she quietly breathed a sigh of relief.
Ambrose really was clever. The excuse about "just having swallowed undead and not fully digested them yet" had saved them. The difference between herself and a seasoned adventurer like...
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