Fated to Die to the Player, I'll Live Freely with My SSS-Class Ship!-Chapter 38: Who are You?

"Is this the Adventurer’s Guild?"

I was standing in front of a large, donut-shaped building—alone.

Eva? Well, after I received permission from her mother to take her as my crew member, Eva decided to spend time with her. She had about two hours of free time before returning to cryogenic stasis. During that period, they would perform checks on her and gather samples. Eva didn’t want her to be alone, so she chose to accompany her.

As such, I went out first, following Eva’s rough directions to get here.

I looked around one last time, confirming whether I was at the right place. "There’s no other donut-shaped building around, anyway, so this must be it." I nodded to myself.

Steeling my resolve, I pushed the door open.

As I entered, the first thing I noticed was… hundreds of pairs of eyes drilling into me.

It was an intimidating experience, especially now that I was walking here as a flesh-and-blood being instead of a virtual avatar. Low whispers and clicking tongues echoed as I made my way toward the counter—keeping a straight face and acting unperturbed.

Everyone here right now was, more or less, someone who called themselves an "adventurer." People who ventured into dangerous areas in hopes of striking it big—a high-risk, high-reward profession.

Due to survivor bias, only those with exceptional physical abilities could make a living as an adventurer. In short, if any of them decided to wring the neck of a weakling like me—who only had a single blaster for defense—then I was doomed.

Fortunately, I reached the counter without any hot-blooded adventurers trying to pick a fight. I faced the lizardman at reception, who had a long scar running vertically through his left eye, and said,

"I want to register my mercenary group as an adventurer group."

"...Cross-registration, is it?"

The lizardman—or woman, judging by the high-pitched voice… No, is it neither? I wasn’t even sure anymore. Either way, they confirmed my request before walking to the back and retrieving a few sheets of paper.

"Fill these out and hand them back when you’re done," they instructed, pushing the documents toward me along with a pen.

It was rare in this day and age to deal with paperwork, as most transactions were handled through terminals. Of course, it wasn’t that Baltheves-402 was a backward planet, but rather, it was due to the nature of adventurers.

’This form is a type of test, to see if the applicant knows basic skills like reading and writing.’

After all, while it was possible to get by without literacy—with the help of portable terminals, text-to-voice, AI assistants, and so on—someone who couldn’t even handle something as basic as filling out a form would likely die on their first commission. Unless they were insanely lucky.

Of course, I knew how to read and write, but...

"What language is this?"

I hadn’t expected this planet to use a completely different language and alphabet instead of the Galactic standard (English, for ease of understanding). This wasn’t something that was in the game!

With no other choice, I activated the translation function in my visor. It filled in the form with the proper values and overlaid the local characters onto the paper, creating a stencil for me to trace. From there, all I had to do was follow the outlines plotted by my visor.

In under 15 minutes, I finished filling out all ten pages.

It wasn’t much of a challenge for someone like me, who had been an office worker before coming here!

After double-checking all the entries—both translated and not—I stood up and returned to the front desk.

"Here are the papers," I said, passing them over.

The lizardman quickly skimmed through the details, checking for any missed sections, and then gave a nod.

"Looks fine. Please wait over there while I process your application."

"Got it."

I returned to my seat, planning to take it easy until the process was done—but then, a familiar figure slipped past the corner of my vision.

’Was that…?’

I glanced toward the door, checking if I had seen things correctly.

’Shit! It’s really her!’

And I panicked.

"Our princess is passing through! Make way, commoners, or face immediate judgment!!!"

A handsome, young man with thick muscles stepped forward, clad in the latest model of Riot Armor—one that made him look like the Emperor’s Spear working for some blue-armored Emperor. His voice radiated authority… but unfortunately for him, such things didn’t work on rowdy adventurers.

"Huh? The fuck are you?"

"You dare command me, the Great Lyle, to move aside?! You’ve got guts, child!"

"Kill... Kill!!!"

As expected, the adventurers didn’t take kindly to the threat. They responded with their own, equally hostile ones. Half of the adventurers along the path stood up, confronting the man who towered at nearly eight feet tall in his armor. The other half, smart enough to avoid trouble, quietly slipped away.

"You dare bare your fangs at our princess...?!" The armored man growled, his face twisting in rage. "Death… death to those who disrespect the princess...!"

In a flash, he drew a massive blade from the sheathe at his waist and stepped forward, bringing it down in a brutal swing. One of the adventurers who had stood to challenge him grinned, lunging forward without hesitation.

"As if a toy like that would work on me!" An insectoid with a thick, black exoskeleton resembling that of a beetle, dashed in, confident in his defenses.

*SLASH!*

The blade... simply went through him, cutting him cleanly in half.

It was so anticlimactic that, for a moment, everyone in the room failed to process what had just happened. They could only stare in shock at what remained of the once brave adventurer—now split in two.

"DEATH TO—!"

Just as the armored man was about to swing his sword again, ready to claim another life—

"Gerlain, that’s enough."

—an innocent voice, as soft as the cherubs’ song, echoed from behind him.

At the sound of it, the armored man—Gerlain—immediately sheathed his sword, turned around, and knelt on one knee.

"I apologize for such an unsightly display, Princess Cassandra. But please, wait for a moment. I shall clear the path at once."

When Gerlain lifted his head, the adventurers who had been standing against him just moments before took a wary step back—simultaneously. Slowly, they backed away, clearing a path from the entrance to the counter.

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"Hmm?"

Then, he started walking—his steps steady, deliberate—until he stopped... right in front of my table.

"You, commoner, can’t you hear me?" He growled, his voice booming like a lion’s roar. "I said, make way!"

Of course, it wasn’t like I was trying to be defiant out of some death wish. But if I let "her" make "me" move now, I would end up unable to defy her commands ever again. It was complicated, but in short, I couldn’t move—not if I wanted to prevent the universe from heading straight into the worst possible ending.

That didn’t mean I was just sitting here helplessly either. My mind was racing, desperately trying to figure out how to avoid getting myself bisected like that poor beetle guy.

’Right, I have that!’

I reached into my spacesuit’s pocket—which opened automatically as my hand neared it—and pulled out a small object. Without hesitation, I lifted it, practically slapping it against the armored man’s face.

The shift in his expression was immediate.

Anger turned to confusion. Confusion turned to fear. And finally, fear turned to panic.

"P-Pardon my rudeness, sire!" He quickly straightened, snapping into a rigid salute.

I sent him a sidelong glance before slipping the object—the Astoria Conglomerate’s Signet—back into my pocket. Thank god I brought that along. That could’ve gone bad, otherwise.

Right now, only Gerlain knew what I had just shown him. That was good. Keeping it that way was better. Stealthily, I signaled him to stay quiet before speaking.

"I’m waiting for my papers to be processed. Can I stay here, Mr. Soldier?"

His face paled as he nodded like a broken bubbly head. "O-Of course, sire! Please, feel free...!"

His entire demeanor had changed in an instant.

"But, our Princess Cassandra Meyers has business with the guild. Can we perhaps… use the other counter?"

"Oh, of course. Please."

I glanced around, noting the confused expressions on the surrounding adventurers. I wanted to chuckle at their baffled faces—but truth be told, I was just as surprised as they were.

’To think he’d go from an angry bulldog to a kind St. Bernard just like that... The Astoria name really is no joke.’

Gerlain, after bowing a few more times for good measure, hurried back to the entrance. Then, he turned to guide the one person I least wanted to meet this early into the plot—the Crazy Princess, Cassandra Meyers.

’Right. Let’s just mind our own business and let things play out as they should—’

"It seems my guard was rude to you, Astoria’s Scion, Master Gerard Astoria."

I froze. I slowly turned my head, only to find that she was standing right next to my table.

Her round face. That thin, angelic smile. Soft blue eyes that exuded warmth. A gaze so kind and gentle, as if she were a saint—all of it screamed innocence and benevolence.

But I knew better.

She was anything but.

"Please allow me to apologize in his stead. Sorry for the disturbance."

"...!"

To my shock, she truly bowed. It was an act that I can’t imagine the Crazy Princess, overflowing with price, to even attempt to do—it was a sight I never thought I’d see!

I narrowed my eyes, suspicion creeping in as I whispered,

"You... Are you truly that Cassandra Meyers...? Who are you?"

At my words, she slowly raised her head. And then, slowly, the smile on her face... faded.