The guild's backrooms aren't just for filing reports. Sometimes they're for relief after a particularly grueling day. Found a newbie warrior crying in the corner, armor still splattered with goblin blood. Her hands were shaking too much to unbuckle her own greaves. I helped. Then I helped her forget the stench of the nest for a while. Pushed her against the stone wall, my hand over her mouth to keep her quiet while I fucked her from behind. She came with my fingers digging into her hips, her tears mixing with the sweat on my neck. Sometimes the real monsters aren't in the dark, they're the memories. And sometimes the only way to drive them out is with a different kind of violence.