Is It Wrong to Want Luxury in a Dungeon? [3]

Blood, Boobs, and Bureaucracy

An hour.

An entire hour.

Calista had been walking for so long that she was starting to consider murder as a viable option.

Orario was ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous.

She had already dragged herself halfway across the city to reach the Freya Familia’s estate—only to be turned away at the door like some commoner. And now? Now she had to march all the way to the complete opposite side just to try her luck with the Loki Familia.

That meant more winding streets, more crowds, more dirt clinging to her clothes, and more of this city’s uneven, miserable roads.

With every step, she could feel her frustration building, coiling tighter and tighter beneath her ribs.

Her patience was gone. Her feet hurt. Her legs ached. And if one more person brushed against her in this gods-forsaken crowd, she was going to commit a felony.

She threw her hands in the air with an exasperated huff. “Who designed this city? A drunk dwarf with a personal grudge against pedestrians?!”

The passerby closest to her startled, giving her a wide berth as she stomped forward.

She was done. So done.

But she kept going. Because she had standards.

The Loki Familia was the second-best Familia in Orario, and after the Freya Familia had the audacity to reject her without even letting her inside, she wasn’t about to settle for anything less.

Still, by the time she reached the northern district, her mood had curdled into something cold and spite-fueled.

She didn’t care what happened next.

She was getting into this Familia, or she was setting something on fire.

...

Calista barely acknowledged the northern district as she approached her destination.

She was too busy glaring at Twilight Manor like it had personally wronged her.

The estate was massive, towering over the surrounding buildings with pale stone walls, pointed spires, and fortified design. A castle rather than a home—defensive, practical, built to endure.

It was nothing like Freya Familia’s silver palace.

No delicate carvings. No excessive luxury.

It wasn’t trying to impress anyone.

It was here to do its job.

And under different circumstances, she might’ve appreciated that.

But not today.

Calista marched straight to the entrance, shoulders squared, posture perfect, her expression set in righteous determination.

She wasn’t in the mood to admire architecture.

The guards at the gate barely spared her a glance before shutting her down.

“Pfft. Yeah, no. Move along, sweetheart.”

She blinked. "Excuse me?"

“You heard me.” The guard didn’t even look up. “No walk-ins. We ain’t recruiting today.”

Calista stared at them.

No.

No. She was not getting rejected twice in one day.

Lifting her chin, she cleared her throat, voice smooth and poised. “Perhaps you don’t recognize me, but I assure you, I am exactly the kind of talent your Familia needs.”

The second guard snorted. “Right. What are you, some noble’s kid who ran away from home?”

She held her smile, polite and utterly unshaken. “I prefer the term independent entrepreneur with high aspirations.”

The first guard sighed, already bored. “Look, lady. We’ve seen your type before. Some rich brat gets it in her head that being an adventurer is ‘exciting’ or ‘cool,’ so she comes knocking, thinking she’s special.”

She let out a soft, breathy laugh. “Oh, no. You misunderstand. I know I’m special.”

The guards groaned.

“Look, unless you’ve got an actual reason to be here, you’re just wasting our time.”

Calista’s eye twitched.

She had not walked across the entire city just to be turned away by two glorified doorstops.

Charm? Didn’t work.
Authority? No luck.
Pretending she had an invitation? Complete failure.

After several agonizing minutes of nonsense, something inside her snapped.

“Oh, for the love of—” She threw up her hands. “You absolute mongrels! You’re actually turning away someone this talented?! You’re supposed to be one of the best Familias in Orario, but if this is the kind of judgment you’re using, I’m starting to question your credibility!”

The guards exchanged looks.

“Should we just throw her out?”

“Oh, please try. I dare you.”

They groaned again, one dragging a hand down his face. “Look, lady—”

“Hey, hey, what’s all this?”

A new voice cut through the conversation, light and far too amused.

The reaction was immediate.

The guards snapped to attention, stepping aside as someone strolled onto the scene.

Calista turned, already gearing up to argue—only to pause.

A woman stood before her, arms lazily tucked behind her head, grinning like she’d just stumbled into the most interesting thing she’d seen all day.

Long red hair, tied in a simple ponytail. Sharp, mischievous eyes. A playful smirk that practically screamed trouble.

Calista had no idea who this woman was.

But the way the guards straightened, the way they suddenly stopped talking, told her everything she needed to know.

Someone important.

That didn’t mean she was backing down.

The red-haired woman scanned Calista up and down, arms still lazily tucked behind her head, an amused tilt to her expression.

“Well, now,” she drawled, drawing out the words. “What’s all this fuss about?”

Calista, still brimming with indignation, threw a hand in the air. “Finally! A person who seems like they have a functioning brain. Would you believe these two have been gatekeeping excellence?”

The guards groaned in unison, but the woman only huffed out a laugh.

Calista latched onto that reaction immediately. A crack in the defenses. Good. Time to push.

“I mean, really,” she continued, slipping into a familiar, dramatic lilt, “do you know how exhausting it is to walk across an entire city, only to be turned away by people who clearly have no appreciation for talent?”

One of the guards muttered something under his breath, but the woman lifted a hand, cutting him off before he could respond.

“A real talent, huh?” she mused, her tone lazy but interested.

Calista beamed, placing a hand on her hip. “A once-in-a-lifetime acquisition.”

“Oh yeah?” The woman quirked a brow, this time looking her up and down with a little more scrutiny.

Calista didn’t falter.

“Yes, and if you knew what you were looking at, you’d be begging me to join.”

That got a real reaction.

The woman exhaled sharply through her nose, shaking her head. “Beggin’, huh?”

“I suppose I could entertain an offer.” Calista sighed, flicking imaginary dust off her sleeves. “It’s not every day a Familia gets the chance to recruit someone of my caliber.”

The guards visibly clenched their jaws, but the woman?

She exhaled, muttering, “Hah. Ya really think yer hot stuff.”

“I don’t think, darling.” Calista smiled, confident and unwavering. “I know.”

Silence.

A beat.

Then the woman barked out a short laugh, rubbing the back of her head.

“Damn, ya got guts.”

Calista barely stopped herself from visibly preening.

“Well, of course—”

“Tell ya what,” the woman cut in, rolling her shoulders like this was barely worth the effort. “Let’s see if there’s actually somethin’ under all that attitude. We’ll talk in my office.”

Calista’s annoyance melted in an instant.

She straightened up immediately, flipping from frustrated to utterly smug in the span of a breath.

“Excellent decision,” she said smoothly, brushing off her skirt like she’d won some grand battle of wits.

The guards groaned again, but they stepped aside without a word as the woman turned on her heel.

“Oi, try not to fall behind,” she called back. “I walk fast.”

Calista lifted her chin, her strides measured and dignified as she followed.

As they entered Twilight Manor, the woman finally introduced herself.

“Name’s Loki, by the way.”

Calista’s step almost faltered.

Loki.

Oh.

Oh.

So this was a goddess?

She kept her expression composed, only tilting her head slightly in acknowledgment. “Charmed.”

Loki snorted but didn’t push.

Instead, she launched into a shameless monologue about her Familia—

And she was completely unfiltered.

“Oh, man, ya ain’t gonna find a better bunch than my kids,” she said, throwing an arm out like she was presenting some kind of grand spectacle. “Strongest squad in Orario, hands down. Finn? Absolute genius. Always got a plan, always two steps ahead.”

Calista arched a brow, but Loki wasn’t done.

“Ais? The Sword Princess? Hoo, ya won’t find a sharper sword in Orario. That girl’s a damn monster in a fight. And not bad on the eyes either, yeah?”

Calista blinked.

Oh.

So that’s how she was.

Loki kept going, unbothered.

“Riveria? Scary as hell when she wants to be, but she keeps everything runnin’ smooth. Oh, and tall. Real nice legs, that one.”

Calista bit the inside of her cheek to keep from reacting.

“Then ya got the Hiryute sisters,” Loki continued. “Tiona and Tione—absolute powerhouses. Can break a boulder in half with their bare hands. And y’know what? Built in all the right places too.”

“…Mmhmm.”

“And Bete—bit of a grump, but he’s fast as hell. Betcha he could run circles around ya before ya even noticed.”

“How impressive.”

Loki glanced at her. “Yer not listenin’, are ya?”

Calista offered a polite, knowing smile. “Oh, no, I’m just used to hearing people talk like this when they’re trying to impress me.”

Loki stared at her for half a second, then let out a dry, short laugh.

“Hah. Alright, ya got me. Let’s see if ya can keep that energy in my office.”

...

Loki’s office was a mess. Papers, maps, and half-empty bottles cluttered every surface, some stacked precariously like they were one wrong move away from disaster. It wasn’t the kind of office that screamed responsibility—it was chaos, but functional chaos. A place where work got done, even if it looked like a hurricane had passed through first.

Calista, however, remained perfectly composed, lowering herself into the chair with smooth, measured grace. One leg crossed over the other, back straight, the very image of poise.

Loki, in contrast, flopped into her seat like she had all the time in the world, rolling her shoulders before leaning forward, elbows braced on the desk, sharp eyes settling on Calista with casual weight.

“Alright, kid,” she said, studying her. “Let’s see if ya actually got anything under all that talk, or if yer just real good at runnin’ yer mouth.”

Calista didn’t blink, but something inside her clicked into high alert.

This wasn’t casual.

Loki’s entire presence shifted in an instant—the easy-going, playful air still there, but now coiled around something sharper.

Calista recognized that look.

It was the same one she’d seen in businessmen who already knew the answer but wanted to see how you squirmed first.

She wasn’t getting away with bluffing her way through this.

Fine.

She could adapt.

Loki tapped a finger against the desk. “Why do ya wanna join my Familia?”

Simple. Expected.

Calista tilted her head, considering. She had plenty of true answers.

Power. Opportunity. The sheer thrill of rising through the ranks.

But saying those things outright wasn’t smart.

Loki was sharp.

So instead, she picked the answer closest to the truth without giving too much away.

“Because I hate the idea of being mediocre.”

Loki raised a brow, her lips curving slightly. “That so?”

“Of course.” Calista’s tone was smooth, effortless. “If I wanted an average life, I would’ve settled for an average existence. But I didn’t. And I won’t.”

Loki’s gaze flickered, something unreadable passing through her expression.

Then she hummed, rolling a shoulder lazily.

“How are ye at fightin’?”

Calista paused—just for a half-second.

She hadn’t been in a real fight before. But she had body control, quick reflexes, and a natural instinct for movement.

She leaned back slightly, her voice casual but deliberate.

“I'm all bout speed and precision. I prefer clean strikes, fast movement, and keeping my opponent from touching me at all.”

Loki exhaled through her nose, like she was both amused and evaluating her.

“Oooh, I like that answer.”

Calista let a small smile slip through. “Would you expect anything less?”

Loki let the silence stretch for a second longer before moving on.

“You ever seen a monster before?”

Calista’s mind worked fast.

If she said no, she’d look inexperienced.

If she said yes, she’d be caught lying instantly.

She had no idea if Loki could smell a lie, but something about the way she asked the question made it feel like she already knew the answer.

So she did what she did best.

She picked the truth, twisted just enough to be useful.

“…Not up close,” she admitted, her tone light, thoughtful, like she was choosing her words carefully. “But I’ve seen the aftermath.”

Loki tilted her head slightly, waiting.

Calista’s expression didn’t waver.

“You learn a lot by paying attention to how people talk about things they fear.”

Loki stared at her for half a second, then huffed.

“Hah. Alright, that was a good dodge.”

Calista allowed herself the smallest bit of satisfaction.

Then came the real question.

Loki’s sharp gaze didn’t waver as she leaned back in her chair.

“Why should I pick ya over any other newbie that walked through that door?”

Calista smiled—slow, knowing.

She had expected this question.

And this time, she didn’t hesitate.

“Because I’m more interesting than any of them.”

Loki exhaled through her nose. “That ain’t much of a reason.”

Calista’s smile widened slightly. “Then let me rephrase.”

She leaned forward, mirroring Loki’s posture, voice dropping to something light, almost conspiratorial.

“Everyone else you’ve recruited—they’re strong, they’re capable, they’re talented. But they’re all…” She waved a hand vaguely. “Predictable. You knew what they were from the start. You saw their potential, you trained them, and they became exactly what you expected.”

She met Loki’s gaze—steady, confident.

“But me?” A slow, self-assured smirk pulled at her lips.

“You have no idea what I’ll become.”

Silence.

Loki stared at her.

Not grinning. Not laughing. Just watching.

The tension in the room shifted, something unreadable passing through Loki’s eyes.

Loki let out a slow, low exhale.

“…Hah.”

Then she leaned back, tapping her fingers idly against the desk, thinking.

That was dangerous.

Calista knew what it looked like when someone was on the fence—and Loki was right there.

She needed one more push.

Then, without thinking, she huffed.

“Well, at least you’re not as shortsighted as the Freya Familia was.”

Loki perked up instantly.

Both eyebrows rose.

“Wait, wait, back up.” She lifted a hand, suddenly, completely focused. “You got beef with Freya?”

Calista blinked, realizing too late what she just said.

“…Not beef, exactly…”

“Nah, nah, nah, don’t backpedal now.” Loki sat up fully, her entire posture shifting from relaxed to engaged. “What’s the story? Did they piss ya off?”

Calista hesitated.

Then sighed, leaning back in her seat with a dramatic flick of her hand.

“They wasted my time,” she said, as if it was the greatest offense imaginable.

Loki stared at her.

Then she let out a slow, low chuckle.

“Ah, hell,” she muttered, shaking her head. “Ya should’ve led with that.”

Then, with a flick of her wrist, as if it was already decided, she waved a hand.

“Yer in.”

Calista froze.

“…What.”

“Ya heard me.” Loki shrugged. “I like yer attitude, ya got spunk, and ya hate Freya Familia? That’s a triple win in my book.”

Calista blinked.

After all of that—all the questions, all the scrutiny—this was what sealed the deal?!

“…That was easy,” she muttered before she could stop herself.

Loki smirked, stretching lazily. “Well, don’t get too comfy. Ya still gotta get yer falna.”

Calista sighed, exasperated.

But she couldn’t hide the slow, pleased smile forming on her lips.

She did it.

She was in.

---

Loki had seen plenty of fresh recruits. Some were loud, desperate to prove themselves, puffing out their chests like overgrown birds trying to look bigger than they were. Others were hesitant, eyes darting around like they were about to bolt if someone so much as sneezed in their direction.

And then there was this one.

Princess over here walked like she owned the place.

Not in the way most nobles did—the kind that either sneered at everything or acted like they were gracing the world with their presence. No, this was different. She moved with expectation, like she was used to the world adjusting around her instead of the other way around.

Loki watched her for a moment, hands stuffed in her pockets, amusement flickering in her mismatched eyes.

Yeah, this one was gonna be fun.

“So, what’s yer name, princess?” she asked, letting the word drip with sarcasm.

Calista didn’t even hesitate.

“Calista Aldebrand.”

Loki let the name roll around in her mind for a second.

Nothing.

Didn’t ring any bells. Probably some noble house that meant a lot outside the city but absolutely jack-shit here.

Not that it mattered.

She grinned.

“Callie it is.”

Calista visibly twitched.

“That is not my name.”

“Sure it is.”

Calista closed her eyes for half a second, inhaled through her nose, then exhaled, as if trying to summon patience from the very depths of her soul.

“I hate this.”

Loki just smirked and kept walking.

Oh yeah.

She was gonna have a great time with this one.

“Alright, Callie.” Loki smirked. “Let’s see if yer actually worth the trouble.”

She pushed open the door to one of the smaller back rooms, the usual spot for applying a Falna.

The room wasn’t much to look at.

A modest space, tucked away in the manor, used exclusively for slapping a Falna on new recruits. Nothing fancy—a desk covered in scattered papers, a couple of well-worn chairs, and a cot lined with fresh sheets against the far wall.

Practical. Efficient. Exactly what it needed to be.

Calista stepped inside without hesitation, her gaze sweeping over the room with that same measured, composed grace she carried everywhere.

Loki leaned lazily against the doorway, watching.

Most rookies had some kind of reaction at this stage—a flicker of nerves, a bit of fidgeting, maybe even a little excitement. But Callie? If she was feeling anything at all, she was hiding it real well.

That was rare.

Not a bad kind of rare.

A fun kind of rare.

Loki stretched, rolling her shoulders before sauntering inside.

“Alright, Callie,” she said, flicking a hand toward the cot, “Hop on and strip.”

Instant reaction.

Calista froze mid-step, spine going rigid.

A long pause.

Then, very slowly, she turned to face Loki, expression unreadable, except for the very slight twitch in her left eye.

“…Excuse me?”

Loki smirked. “What, ya deaf? Shirt off, let’s go.”

Calista blinked once, inhaling deeply through her nose.

“…Surely, you’re joking.”

Loki gave her a look that said, Do I look like I’m jokin’?

Calista’s lips pressed into a thin line, her fingers twitching slightly at her sides, like she was debating whether this was the moment she committed homicide.

“I haven’t even been here a day,” she said, voice dry as the desert, “and I’m already being stripped of my dignity?”

Loki snorted, waving a hand. “Please. This ain’t even close to the worst thing yer gonna deal with as an adventurer. If this bothers ya, ya better start prayin’ to whatever god ya like, ‘cause the Dungeon’s got a whole lot worse in store.”

Calista let out a long, suffering sigh, the kind that suggested she was reevaluating every decision that led her to this moment.

Then, with the resigned grace of a woman who had long since stopped caring, she turned away, fingers undoing the buttons of her blouse with slow, deliberate movements.

Loki, already preparing the ritual, barely glanced up—

And then she noticed something.

Something big.

Two things, actually.

Loki’s gaze drifted lower, and she arched an eyebrow.

Hooooooh.

Callie wasn’t just put together—she was put together.

The kind of hourglass figure that made artists weep, the kind of stacked front and back that had no business existing outside of certain illustrated novels Loki kept tucked away for a rainy day.

Loki let out a low whistle.

“Well, damn.”

Calista froze immediately, her fingers halting mid-button.

Her shoulders tensed.

Then, very slowly, she tilted her head just enough to shoot Loki a dead-eyed glare over her shoulder.

“…What.”

Loki grinned, entirely too entertained. “Didn’t peg ya for the full package, Callie. Thought ya’d be all dainty, but ya got assets.”

A beat of absolute silence.

Then—

Calista exhaled slowly, dramatically, her hands resuming their movement with the exaggerated patience of a woman who had long since stopped caring.

“Oh, fantastic,” she muttered, slipping off her blouse like it was just another Monday. “Even my goddess is objectifying me. Truly, what a wonderful new life this is.”

Loki snickered. “C’mon, can ya blame me?”

Calista, now halfway onto the cot, gave her a slow, exhausted glance.

“At least buy me dinner first,” she muttered, before collapsing face-down onto the mattress.

Loki barked out a laugh.

“Oh, ya got jokes. Yer gonna fit in real nice here.”

Calista groaned, pressing her face into the pillow. “I hate this.”

“Yer lovin’ every second of it.”

Loki had done this hundreds of times before.

Applying a Falna was second nature to her—an everyday routine, something she could do half-asleep and still get right. It wasn’t complicated. Just a drop of divine blood, a flick of power, and boom, the newbie got their stats recorded, ready to start their miserable climb through the ranks.

But this time?

This time, Loki actually paid attention.

She straddled Calista’s back easily, settling her weight down like it was just another day on the job. It wasn’t exactly the most dignified position—sitting on top of a mostly bare rookie while marking them with divine script—but hey, nobody ever said gods had to be classy.

“All right, Callie, hold still,” she murmured, shifting her grip as she reached for her dagger.

“Not like I can go anywhere,” came the muffled response from the pillow.

Loki grinned to herself but didn’t comment. Instead, she brought the dagger to her fingertip, giving a quick, practiced prick. A single drop of divine blood welled up, rich and shimmering, carrying the raw essence of divinity.

She pressed her bloodstained thumb on Calista’s back, right where the Falna would form.

The effect was instant.

The room hummed with energy, a soft but unmistakable pulse of divine power awakening. The air grew heavier—not suffocating, but enough to make the skin tingle, the hairs on the back of the neck stand up.

Then, the sigil of Loki Familia flared to life.

A deep red glow spread from the mark, curling and unfurling like ink dissolving into water, forming the intricate emblem of her Familia. The glow pulsed, synchronizing with Calista’s body, adjusting to her presence as the divine script began to unravel.

Loki watched, her eyes tracing the symbols as they etched themselves into place, recording the raw, unshaped potential of the girl beneath her.

At first, everything looked standard.

The usual blank template. All zeros—that was normal. No magic, no skills—

Wait.

Something shifted.

Loki’s brows furrowed slightly, her casual smirk fading just a fraction.

There it was.

A Skill.

A unique one.

At Level 1.

Loki stilled.

That wasn’t normal.

Her eyes narrowed as the script solidified, the name of the Skill burning itself into the divine inscription like it had always been there, like it belonged.

Torrent of Light.

Loki’s mind moved fast.

Skills didn’t just appear at birth.

They weren’t handed out like freebies.

They were earned—through hardship, meaning, experience.

And this girl?

This brand-new rookie, fresh off the streets, still untested in the Dungeon—already had one?

Loki’s lips parted slightly, her fingers tapping lightly against Calista’s back as she processed the implications.

Well, well, well.

What do we have here?

A unique Skill at Level 1 was stupid rare.

Most adventurers—hell, even the strong ones—never developed a Skill. They could reach Level 3, 4, 5 and still have nothing but raw stats and magic to their name.

And yet, here was Calista, stacked in more ways than one, already carrying something dangerous.

Loki’s smirk returned, but this time it was sharper. More possessive.

This wasn’t just a good find.

This was a jackpot.

Her fingers tapped absently against Calista’s back.

She hadn’t just recruited a newbie.

She’d recruited a possible legend.

Loki’s smirk curled at the edges.

This wasn’t just some generic reinforcement skill.

Reinforcement Skills followed a pattern—increase strength, amplify speed, harden defenses. Simple, useful, but limited.

But this?

This wasn’t limited at all.

Loki could tell just by reading the script—this wasn’t some minor boost or simple enhancement. It carried weight.

It wasn’t just power—it was destruction.

Something that could shatter normal weapons, disrupt anything chaotic or evil, and turn the weakest strike into something that shouldn’t be possible.

A Skill meant not just for combat, but for overwhelming force.

A Skill that didn’t play fair.

Loki let out a quiet chuckle, her smirk widening as she let the last of the Falna settle, sealing itself into Calista’s body.

With a final pulse, the glow of the inscription faded, leaving behind nothing but the new mark of Loki Familia permanently etched between her shoulder blades.

Loki sighed dramatically, sitting back.

“And that’s that,” she said, dusting off her hands. “Ya officially belong to me now.”

Calista groaned into the pillow. “Lovely.”

Loki just grinned, stretching her arms as she hopped off the cot.

She grabbed a piece of parchment, reaching for the ink and brush as she began transcribing the new stats.

Her gaze flickered back to the divine script one last time, rereading the words carefully.

──────────────────────────────────

➤ Name: Calista Aldebrand
➤ Level: 1

──────────────────────────────────

Basic Abilities

✦ Strength : I 0
✦ Endurance : I 0
✦ Dexterity : I 0
✦ Agility  I 0
✦ Magic : I 0

──────────────────────────────────

Magic

[None]

──────────────────────────────────

Skills

◆ Torrent of Light ◆
A rare and powerful skill that allows the user to channel an immense surge of magical energy into their body and weaponry, greatly enhancing their combat potential.

— By expelling magical energy in rapid bursts, the user drastically enhances their physical attacks, increasing striking power and durability beyond natural limits.
— When wielding a weapon, this energy reinforcement can cause ordinary armaments to surpass their designed durability, leading to rapid wear or outright destruction upon impact.
— Inflicts increased damage against Chaotic-aligned and Evil-aligned entities, disrupting their essence with an overwhelming surge of light energy.
— The power of this skill is directly tied to the user’s magical reserves—excessive use can lead to rapid mana depletion and severe exhaustion if poorly managed.

──────────────────────────────────

Development Abilities

None

──────────────────────────────────

Loki smirked to herself.

Yeah.

Freya was gonna be so pissed.

Calista took the parchment from Loki’s outstretched hand with perfect grace, fingers poised, movements smooth—like she was accepting a royal decree rather than a piece of paper listing out her measly Level 1 stats.

Even now, after everything, she still carried herself like a woman above the nonsense she’d just endured, chin high, posture straight, giving the paper only a passing glance before lowering her gaze to inspect it properly.

And then—

She froze.

Loki caught it immediately.

It was subtle.

Her brows knitted together, lips pressing into a thin, thoughtful line.

She tilted the page.

Then she tilted it the other way.

Then she lifted it slightly, adjusting the angle like she was reading some kind of divine prophecy instead of a status sheet.

Nothing changed.

Loki’s grin widened.

She knew what was happening.

Oh, this was gonna be good.

Calista, still eerily silent, did the most dignified, high-society, composed thing Loki had ever seen.

She lifted a single, delicate finger, pointed at a random symbol on the page, and in a voice so even it bordered on disturbing, she said:

“This one. Does it say ‘Strength’ or ‘Congratulations, you’ve won a free dinner’?”

Loki lost it.

The sheer cackle that ripped out of her throat shook the damn walls.

“Hah! YA CAN TALK BUT YA CAN’T READ?!”

Calista’s jaw clenched.

“This is not hilarious.”

“This is the funniest damn thing I’ve heard all year!” Loki wheezed, doubling over, clutching her stomach. “Yer sittin’ here all ‘Oh, I belong here,’ ‘Oh, I’m the hottest thing since ever,’ and ya can’t even read yer own damn stats?!”

Calista, who had clearly reached the absolute peak of her patience, folded the parchment neatly in half, placing it on her lap like it was a legal document instead of a personal insult to her intelligence.

“How was I supposed to know,” she began, tone flat, controlled, “that you people write in cursed chicken scratch?”

Loki was crying.

“No, no, don’t backpedal now!” she gasped between laughs, wiping away an actual tear. “I thought ya were some high-class, educated noble type—y’know, poised, refined, sophisticated—and ya can’t even read!”

Calista’s eye twitched so hard it was a miracle she didn’t develop a permanent spasm.

Loki was still going.

“Yer sittin’ here, all dignified, actin’ like ya got everythin’ handled, and ya don’t even know if yer STR is a zero or if I just cursed ya with a lifetime supply of breadsticks—”

Calista slammed her forehead onto the desk.

Loki fell backward, howling.

“This is the worst day of my life,” Calista groaned into the wood.

Loki, gasping for breath, finally managed to sit up, still chuckling as she wiped at her eyes. “Callie, Callie, ya kill me.”

Calista let out a slow, suffering breath, before finally reaching for the parchment again, gripping it with all the dignity of a noblewoman handling a bill she didn’t want to pay.

“…So what the hell do my stats actually say?”

Loki, still grinning ear to ear, reached over and flipped it open.

“Well, ya got nothin’ right now,” she said lazily, waving a hand. “All I’s across the board. Which is normal, so don’t go cryin’ about it.”

Calista lifted her head just enough to glare. “I don’t cry.”

Loki winked. “That’s what they all say.”

Calista, choosing to ignore that, straightened her posture and folded her arms, looking more like a grumpy queen than a frustrated rookie.

“…Is that all?”

Loki’s grin shifted, something sharper curling at the edges.

“Actually,” she said, tapping the parchment with a lazy flick of her fingers, “there’s somethin’ real interestin’ in here.”

Calista’s expression barely changed, but Loki saw it—the way her body stilled, the way her eyes gleamed, just slightly.

Oh yeah.

This kid had ambition.

Loki let the tension build for a second, just enough to see the curiosity spark before she smirked and tossed the parchment at Calista, who caught it with smooth, practiced ease.

“Guess ya better start learnin’ how to read, huh?”

Calista, utterly exhausted but still too proud to admit it, groaned, pressing the parchment to her forehead.

“I despise everything about today.”

Loki just grinned, stretching her arms behind her head.

“Welcome to the Familia, Callie.”

Calista, still holding the parchment to her forehead like osmosis might help, let out another long, suffering sigh.

“I hate you.”

Loki just laughed.

Yeah.

She was gonna have a hell of a time with this one.

---

A/N: guh i love loki, also as a comparison... Calista has larger AHEM than Hestia, oh i didn't mention her height either huh she's 5'9 oh and for torrent of light its something from a different franchise >:) hint: gacha