I had completed everything I’d aimed for today, and looking at the angle of the sun, I didn't think I had enough daylight left to clear an entire seventh floor before nightfall. The dungeon had a way of warping one's sense of time, but my internal clock was starting to sync with the rhythms of Targashar. It was better to leave now and utilize the remaining afternoon to solve my lack of healing. I stepped onto the threshold of the seventh floor just to register my progress, then turned back immediately. Instead of using my 'Warp' spell, I chose to exit through the main entrance; the physical gate was significantly closer to the center of the city and the Dungeon Raiders Guild.

  When I stepped out of the dark, cool aperture of the rock, the sun was still high, though it had begun its slow, golden descent toward the horizon. It was roughly the middle of the day. More than half of the daylight hours had already vanished into the damp corridors of the sixth floor, confirming that my decision not to push further was the right one. Pushing into a new floor while exhausted and injured was a mistake I didn't intend to make twice.

  “Hi! How’s it going today?”

  “Hmm?” I turned toward the voice and felt a small spark of recognition. Standing there, leaning against the rock with the same bored expression I’d seen on my first day, was the guard who had given me my initial pointers.

  “Oh! It’s you,” I said, my voice sounding more cheerful than I expected. I was surprisingly glad to see a familiar face in a city that still felt so alien. “I’ve been ascending the floors every day—or should I say descending? Since it's a dungeon, the direction is a bit confusing. Anyway, your advice was really helpful. So, how are things with you?”

  “Hmph, it was nothing,” the guard replied, though he stood up a bit straighter. “You already paid me with that silver coin the other day, so there’s no need to be so polite. It’s good to see you’re actually making progress. Most newbies don't make it past the third floor in their first week. We guards are generally idle like this, you see. It's the nature of the post.”

  He spoke with the heavy air of someone who was bored to tears. I could relate; coming from a modern world where every spare second was filled with digital stimulation, the idea of standing still and staring at a rock for ten hours a day sounded like a refined form of torture.

  “Yes, I can see that,” I replied. “I have some business to attend to at the Guild, so I’ll have to cut this short. I’ll see you later.”

  I didn't have much else to say, and he didn't seem particularly desperate for a long-winded chat either. I was just glad to confirm he was still around.

  “Yeah, goodbye,” he said, casually waving me off. “Make sure you tell me about your progress next time you pass through. I’ve got a bet with the night shift about how far you’ll get.”

  The short conversation left me feeling unexpectedly lively. As I walked toward the Guild, I began to reflect on my social interactions—or lack thereof. I spent almost all my time either swinging a sword in the dark or sleeping in a lonely inn room. I realized that my only "friends" were a merchant who had already left town and a guard whose name I didn't even know. Maybe buying a slave wasn't just a tactical move for the dungeon; maybe it was a necessary step toward maintaining my sanity. Having someone to talk to, even a subordinate, seemed more appealing by the minute.

  I arrived at the Guild a few minutes later. The interior was remarkably quiet compared to the evening rush I’d experienced previously. Only a few groups were scattered around the heavy oak tables, whispering about their day’s hauls or debating which equipment shop offered the best buyback rates. I scanned the reception desks and saw an empty station. I headed toward it, and after a few seconds, a woman appeared from the back office to assist me.

  My heart nearly stopped. My eyes widened, and my mouth hung open in a slight, involuntary grin. Standing behind the counter was a catkin woman. She was a perfect archetype of the fantasy world I had dreamed of: two pointed, furry cat ears sat atop her head, twitching independently as they caught the sounds of the room, and a slim, expressive tail flicked rhythmically behind her. She was dressed in the same professional, formal attire as the other receptionists, but the contrast between the office wear and her feline features was devastatingly cute.

  “Welcome, sir~nya! How can I help you~nya?”

  I was in a complete trance. What is this cat speaking? I wondered, my face flushing. The "nya" quirk was so perfectly aligned with my otaku-adjacent memories that I felt like I might actually have a nosebleed if she turned up the charm any further. She offered me an innocent, bright smile that made me feel like the most suspicious person in the building.

  I realized I was staring at her with a creepy, frozen grin, and I quickly cleared my throat, forcing myself back into professional mode. I didn't want my first impression on a literal catgirl to be "local weirdo."

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  “Uhm, yes! Thank you,” I said, adjusting my posture. “My name is Han. I’m a dungeon raider. I wanted to ask for some specific information regarding healing, but... it’s my first time seeing you here.”

  “You can ask me anything you want~nya!” she chirped, her tail giving a happy little swish. “I am Naela. Actually, I’ve been working at this branch for quite a while, so it must be you who arrived recently~nya!”

  She sounded a bit smug, immediately pointing out that I was the newcomer in this relationship.

  “Oh, yes. It’s been less than a week since I arrived in the city,” I admitted, trying to recover my dignity. “It’s just that I didn't see you when I visited the Guild the last two times.”

  “It’s okay~nya! Some days I’m in the back processing the monster drops~nya,” she said, brushing off my explanation with a graceful wave of her hand. “Please, let me help you with your problem~nya. You mentioned healing?”

  I nodded, pushing the image of her twitching ears to the back of my mind. “The thing is... I’ve realized I have no way to treat myself if I get injured in the dungeon. I wanted to know what my options are for recovery and increasing my survival rate.”

  Naela looked genuinely surprised for a moment, her large eyes blinking at me. “You’ve reached the seventh floor and you don't know about potions~nya? You really are a strange one~nya.”

  Despite her teasing, she shifted into an informative mode, her tail slowing as she began to outline the various methods of healing available in Targashar.

  First, she explained the role of the Herbalist. This was the foundational job for medical care. Herbalists could identify wild plants, record their properties using specialized skills, and create basic medicines. These were relatively cheap and accessible, but they were generally slow-acting—more like a standard bandage or a poultice than a magical cure.

  To obtain the "real" stuff, one had to find an Alchemist. Naela explained that Alchemy was a derived job, usually acquired only after a person had reached a high level in the Herbalist role and met specific technical qualifications. Alchemists could synthesize potions using a complex mixture of herbs and minerals. These potions were significantly more expensive than basic medicine because the process was volatile and the ingredients were often rare. However, the results were worth the gold; while a medicine might just increase your natural recovery speed, a high-quality potion could knit flesh together and heal an injury in an instant.

  “Most alchemists are very rich~nya,” Naela noted with a touch of envy. “If they can keep a stable shop, the raiders will throw gold at them just to stay alive~nya.”

  Then, she moved on to the magical side of things. She described a variety of "Holy" jobs that could heal using mana directly. These were the Priests, Monks, Clerics, and Shrine Maidens. There were gender restrictions on some—men could not be Shrine Maidens, and women could not be Clerics.

  The Shrine Maiden and Cleric jobs were balanced between healing and providing combat buffs, making them popular in large parties. Monks, on the other hand, were frontline fighters who used their fists to defeat monsters. They could heal themselves and others, but they lacked the potent buffs of the Clerics. Naela mentioned that to become a Monk, one had to prove their martial worth by defeating monsters without weapons—a prospect that sounded exhausting to me.

  But the pinnacle of healing was the Priest. Naela explained that this was one of the most difficult jobs to acquire. It required years of dedicated study in both the Herbalist and Scholar roles, likely with high level-requirements for both. Temples also demanded "sincere duty" from their initiates, meaning a Priest was often tied to a religious organization. A Priest could eventually promote to a High Priest, capable of curing severe illnesses and neutralizing high-class poisons.

  “And at the very top are the Saints~nya,” Naela whispered, her voice full of awe. “They can heal entire groups at once and even pull someone back from death’s door with a resurrection skill~nya. But you’d have to be a legendary Priest to even dream of that~nya!”

  I listened intently, my mind cataloging the information. I realized that becoming a Priest myself would take far too much time, but a Monk or perhaps a combat-capable Cleric might be a viable future path.

  Naela also touched upon equipment. She mentioned that certain enchanted items, like my own silver ring, could provide passive recovery bonuses. However, she warned that these were often overpriced for the benefit they provided. An item that boosted health regeneration by twenty percent was far less effective in a crisis than a low-quality potion that provided a fifty percent boost instantly.

  Once I felt I had a solid grasp on the medical landscape of the city, I thanked Naela for her time. I still felt a bit lightheaded from her "nya" punctuations, but the knowledge was worth the mental strain. I realized I also wanted to ask about the Regeneration stat specifically—whether there were jobs that boosted it directly—but I remembered that people in this world couldn't see literal stats. Asking about a numerical regeneration value would only make me look like more of a "strange one."

  I offered her a polite bow and headed back out into the afternoon air. I had much to think about. I had the gold, I had the information, and I had a stinging shoulder that was finally beginning to itch. Tomorrow, I would visit the slave merchant again, but this time, I would be looking for a companion who could bridge the gap in my defenses.

  [Edited]