Online Game: Starting With SSS-Ranked Summons

Standing before him was Jasmine, wrapped in nothing but a bath towel, her wet hair dripping onto her shoulders.

Her expression was a mixture of confusion and mild annoyance, her eyes narrowing as she looked at him.

Arthur's face turned beet red.

"I'M SO SORRY!" he blurted, spinning on his heel and bolting down the hallway like his life depended on it.

He skipped some stairs as he descended, narrowly avoiding colliding with a waiter carrying a tray of drinks.

Reaching the lobby, Arthur leaned against the wall, panting. "Why do I keep ending up in these kinds of situations?" he groaned, running a hand through his hair.

Before he could collect himself, a familiar voice called out softly. "Fateless!"

He stiffened, slowly turning to see Jasmine descending the stairs, now fully dressed. Her arms were crossed, and her expression was unreadable as she approached him.

"You want to explain why you were trying to knock my door down like a madman?" she asked, her tone clipped but not entirely angry.

Arthur raised his hands defensively. "I thought you weren't answering on purpose! How was I supposed to know you were… um… busy?"

Jasmine arched an eyebrow. "Busy? I was taking a bath, and you didn't even give me time to respond!"

Arthur sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Okay, my bad. I thought you were genuinely ignoring me for some reason, I guess I was just too excited to check something out."

Jasmine rolled her eyes, a small smirk forming on her lips. "So, your first instinct is to nearly break the door? Nice logic."

"Not my finest moment," Arthur admitted, scratching the back of his neck. "Let's just pretend this never happened, okay?"

Jasmine let out a soft laugh. "Fine, but you owe me for the scare. Maybe dinner or something."

Arthur blinked his expression deadpan. "Dinner? I just paid for your lodging and food a few hours ago, and now you want me to pay for dinner too? Do I look like a walking ATM to you?"

Jasmine's grin widened. "Well, if the shoe fits…"

Arthur groaned, running a hand down his face. "Yeah, good one. Real original."

"Still," Jasmine said, her tone turning serious mockingly, with a playful grin on her face. "You almost barged in on a naked princess. You don't get off that easily. If we were in the royal palace, you would have been charged with treason."

Arthur stopped mid-step, turning to look at her with raised eyebrows. "Treason? Seriously? I get thrown in the royal dungeon because you took too long in the bath?"

Jasmine nodded solemnly, clearly trying to suppress a laugh. "Absolutely. The royal guards would have dragged you off before you could even stammer an excuse."

Arthur crossed his arms, tilting his head. "Yeah, sure. That totally checks out. But it still leaves one question unanswered."

"And what's that?" Jasmine asked, her tone smug.

"Why the hell would I ever be in a royal palace to begin with? Because, as far as I can tell, I don't remember being friends with any royals. Or crashing any high-society parties. And if I was there, I probably wouldn't be looking for you in a bathroom."

Jasmine laughed, shaking her head. "You're missing the point."

"No, no, I think I've got it," Arthur continued, smirking as he rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "I'd probably be there because someone like you dragged me into a scheme, claiming you were royalty and I needed to help overthrow some tyrant."

"Or maybe," he added with a grin on his face, "I was invited because the palace heard about my amazing auction skills. You know, selling rare items to the highest bidder, making gold hand over fist."

Jasmine rolled her eyes. "I hate to break it to you, but royal palaces don't need auctioneers. They just… take what they want."

Arthur snapped his fingers. "Exactly. And I'd be thrown in jail because I wouldn't let them take my inventory. That sounds way more realistic than barging into your bathroom and getting charged with treason."

Arthur gave her a flat look. "Good luck with that," he muttered, turning on his heel and heading back up the stairs.

Jasmine blinked, her amusement fading into confusion. "Wait, where are you going?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

Arthur stopped mid-step, glancing back at her over his shoulder. "To your room? I told you I want to check something out."

Jasmine folded her arms, her scepticism written all over her face. "You're acting all serious now? You were just arguing with me over dinner two seconds ago."

Arthur turned fully, his expression neutral but his voice carrying a sarcastic tone. "Yes, because clearly, I make dinner plans in rooms filled with random strangers who might be plotting my demise. Very relaxing environment, by the way."

She sighed, rolling her eyes, but noticed his expression shift slightly.

"Alright," she said, her tone softening. "Let's go."

No one noticed Arthur and Jasmine quibbling like some old married couple as the inn was very busy and loud, due to its chaotic nature.

Inside the room...

Arthur entered and glanced around for a few seconds before nodding in approval. "They provide cleaning services too? Not bad for 50 bronze coins a day," he muttered, making his way to the chair and plopping down.

Jasmine, leaning casually against the doorframe, raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean 'cleaning services'? Why is your first thought that someone besides me kept this room clean?"

Arthur shot her a look, half-amused and half-exasperated.

"Maybe because you're supposed to be a princess, and princesses aren't usually known for their chore game? Or—check this plot twist."

"You're not actually a princess. Shocking, right?" His voice dripped with sarcasm as if he were narrating the grand reveal of a mediocre stage play.

Jasmine gasped dramatically, placing a hand on her chest as if wounded. "How dare you! I'll let you know I can clean very well, thank you. I just choose not to."

Arthur leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his smirk growing. "Oh, so you're saying you have the ability, just not the will? That's even worse! Lazy and entitled. A true royal combination."n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om

She rolled her eyes, walking further into the room and plopping onto the bed. "Why do you even care if I clean or not? This is my space, not yours."

Arthur raised a finger as if making a profound point. "Wrong. I paid for it, so technically, this is my space. You're just a squatter. A very high-maintenance squatter, might I add."

Jasmine grabbed a pillow and threw it at him. He caught it effortlessly, holding it up like a trophy. "See? High-maintenance. First, you steal my money for room and board, then you demand dinner. Now you're throwing my own property at me. What's next? A royal decree that I hand over all my loot?"

Jasmine's grin widened, taking on an almost predatory edge. "Oh, that's a great idea. Hand it over," she said, holding out her hand expectantly like a debt collector about to get her dues.

Arthur looked at her, unimpressed.

Without saying a word, he shooed her away with his hand like one might do to an annoying, persistent fly. "Go on, shoo. I've got important things to do right now. Big, grown-up things. You wouldn't understand."

Jasmine tilted her head, one eyebrow arching. "Oh, really? Like what?"