In the center of the Empire, summer in this damn southern fringe is more than harsh for a wolf-beastman—it's practically a curse. 　 　 Sweat is already pouring down like rain under my leather armor, and the thick silvery-white fur covering my neck and cheeks chokes me like a heated cotton quilt. It's the season when I desperately miss the snowy forests of the cool North. Right now, I feel like plunging into a pit of ice-cold water and lying there motionless for half a day. 　 　 As soon as I opened the door to 'The Red Gate' guild hall and stepped inside, I frowned instinctively. 　 　 It's hot, noisy, and it stinks. The sour smell of cheap ale, the sweat of unwashed humans, and the boisterous noise of mercenaries putting on useless bravado. My sensitive hearing rang as if my ears were being torn, and my long tail stiffened of its own accord. I wanted to growl and rip all these noisy mouths apart right then and there, but I just maintained an expressionless face and walked deeper into the guild. 　 　 During the day, I needed someone to take turns keeping watch and guarding my back. No matter how great my sense of smell is, sleeping alone in the forest while my senses are dulled by the heat would be a dog's death that my pride as an adventurer wouldn't allow. 　 　 Someone who won't try to pet me like a mutt just because they see my thick fur. Someone who won't tire out my sensitive ears with useless boasting. Someone reasonably skilled who won't stab me in the back and run away in a crisis. 　 　 I let out a heavy sigh and brushed down the fur on my flushed cheeks. Then, I slowly turned my head and scanned the sweltering guild hall. Among these noisy drunks and greenhorns, there had to be at least one decent human willing to accompany me on my cool night hunt.