Orion, the Great Ogre Leader, patrolled the Great Green Forest as he always did, his massive footsteps leaving imprints in the soft soil. This forest was his domain, a sacred land teeming with life, mana, and the unspoken bond of those who called it home. His patrol was routine, but today something felt different, like the forest itself whispered of an anomaly.

Pushing aside a thick curtain of vines, Orion stopped in his tracks. Before him, in a clearing lit by shafts of sunlight breaking through the canopy, knelt a small human girl. She was no older than twelve, her tiny hands working a blade over the carcass of a wolf.

In this world, it wasn’t uncommon for children to hunt, but this little girl sure was fascinating as she skinned the wolf with a precision that rivaled experienced hunters. Her delicate frame, clad in a pristine white dress, looked completely out of place in the wilderness. Blood streaked her hands and the blade, yet her dress remained unsoiled, its fine fabric shining like it belonged to royalty.

Orion stepped closer, his towering shadow falling over her. He expected her to flinch, to cower like most humans did in the presence of an ogre. But she didn’t even look up, continuing her work with calm focus.

“Human,” he said, his deep voice rolling through the clearing like distant thunder. “Are you by chance lost? But... considering you’re skinning a wolf in that beautiful dress… are you hunting?”

The girl finally paused, lifting her head to meet his gaze. Her eyes were wide and unblinking, reflecting the sunlight with an almost ethereal gleam. Orion crouched, resting his forearms on his knees to meet her at eye level.

“A human child like you shouldn’t be here,” he said, his tone softer but still firm. “This forest is no place for a little girl.”

He extended his hand toward her, a gesture of both curiosity and protection. But the girl pulled back slightly, her expression unwavering.

“No,” she said, her voice quiet but firm.

Orion raised a brow, tilting his head slightly. “No? You refuse my help?”

The girl set down her knife, carefully folding the wolf’s pelt with steady hands. She stood, cradling the pelt as if it were a prized possession. “I’m not lost,” she said, her voice steady. “And I don’t need help.”

Orion frowned. “Not lost? Then where are you from?”

The girl remained silent, her gaze dropping momentarily to the ground before she looked back at him. Orion couldn’t tell if it was defiance or indifference in her eyes.

“I don’t need help,” she repeated, her tone unwavering. She bent down, picking up the wolf’s meat and balancing it easily in her arms.

Orion stared at her, a mixture of amazement and confusion swirling in his mind. There was nothing ordinary about her, nothing that aligned with the rules of the world he knew.

“If you’re not lost, then what are you doing here?” he asked, his voice softening.

The girl hesitated for a moment, as if debating whether to answer. Finally, she spoke, her voice quiet but clear. “Living.”

Orion straightened up, his towering frame casting a long shadow over her. “What’s your name, child?”

She glanced at him, her expression blank, before replying softly, “I don’t remember.”

He watched as she turned to leave, her small frame disappearing into the dense forest with the wolf’s pelt and meat in her arms.

Orion stood there for a long moment, his curiosity now a burning question. A human child who hunted wolves alone, untouched by the dangers of the forest, and utterly indifferent to his presence. Who was she?

He turned to resume his patrol, but he knew he would cross paths with her again. And when he did, he would uncover the truth about the mysterious nameless girl.

Norman leaned back in his sturdy wooden chair, his thick arms crossed as he surveyed the steady flow of customers passing by his shop. It wasn’t a big store, but it was enough. The counter was stocked with fresh monster meat from the surrounding lands: Raging Bull steaks, Big Wild Boar cuts, and smoked wolf jerky.

Business had been good lately, and life, in his eyes, was stable and satisfying. His wife was out with her friends, roaming the farm hills with a Druid to inspect the soil for the next planting season. It was always nice to see her enjoying time with her old companions, all of whom had started as simple farmers before moving on to trades of their own.

Norman chuckled quietly to himself, rubbing his hands together as a small family passed by his shop, waving cheerfully. He waved back, his gnoll face grinning wide and genuine. Life in the United Monster Tribes felt right, and this was one of those moments he cherished.

The day seemed perfectly ordinary until two small arms appeared on the counter, slapping down a fresh slab of wolf meat with a wet thud.

Norman blinked and leaned forward, lowering his gaze to meet the familiar face of the Nameless Girl. She stood on her toes, peeking over the edge of the counter with her usual blank expression, though the smug glint in her wide eyes told him she was up to her usual antics.

“Wolf again,” she said casually, patting the meat like it was a prized possession. “Got another one for you. This one’s extra fat, so it should sell fast. You’re welcome.”

Norman scratched his head, hiding a grin. “You’ve been busy again, haven’t you? That makes three wolves this week.”

“Maybe,” she replied with a slight shrug, her voice calm but carrying the faintest hint of pride. “Are you buying or not? I’ve got places to be, you know.”

Norman chuckled, shaking his head as he reached out to inspect the wolf meat. It was cleanly cut and skinned, as always, with not a trace of waste. The girl’s skill never ceased to amaze him, especially for someone her age.

“You’re something else, kid,” he said, weighing the slab in his hands. “I’ll take it, like always. Same price as usual?”

She nodded, the corners of her mouth twitching upward for just a second, though her face remained largely blank. “Yep. And don’t even think about short-changing me.”

Norman barked a laugh, pulling out a pouch of coins and placing them on the counter. “I wouldn’t dare. Not with you.”

The girl swept the coins into her pocket with swift, practiced movements, giving him a quick nod of approval. “Good. Thanks, Norman. See you in a couple of days.”

“Wait,” he said, stopping her as she turned to leave. “What about the boar meat? Don’t tell me you forgot.”

“Oh,” she said, pausing and glancing over her shoulder. “That’s for later. Don’t get greedy.”

With that, she strolled out of the shop, her small figure vanishing into the bustling street. Norman watched her go, shaking his head in amusement.

“Every time,” he muttered, already looking forward to their next encounter.

The Adventurer’s Guild was as noisy and lively as ever, filled with clinking glasses, the shuffling of armor, and bursts of laughter from returning adventurers. The Nameless Girl pushed open the heavy wooden doors, her small figure slipping inside unnoticed by most. She strode with quiet confidence toward the counter, where a familiar face greeted her with an explosion of enthusiasm.

“Hey there!” Fatima called out, her bright smile lighting up the room. The human receptionist’s blonde hair bounced as she waved, and her blue eyes sparkled with excitement. “You’re back! Did you bring me something interesting again?”

The Nameless Girl paused in front of the counter, pulling a neatly folded wolf pelt from her bag and placing it on the counter. “Wolf fur,” she said flatly, her tone betraying none of the effort it had taken to obtain it.

Fatima’s face lit up even more as she reached for the pelt, running her hands over the soft material. “Oh, it’s so well-prepared, as usual! You really have a knack for this, you know? If you ever wanted to join the guild officially, I’m sure we’d...!”

“No,” the girl interrupted, her blank expression remaining steadfast. “Fire scroll. One.”

Fatima tilted her head, blinking in surprise. “Just one? But this fur is worth at least two low-level scrolls! Are you sure you don’t want-”

“One is fine,” the girl insisted, her voice calm but firm. “This is the last one I need.”

Fatima hesitated, clearly wanting to protest, but the girl’s unwavering gaze left no room for argument. With a resigned sigh, the receptionist turned to retrieve the requested scroll.

“Okay, okay,” Fatima said, rummaging through the shelves behind her. “But you’re selling yourself short, you know! A good trader would always push for the best deal, and adventurers should never leave resources on the table!”

The girl said nothing, her expression unreadable. As Fatima continued to ramble, the girl’s attention drifted, her mind wandering as snippets of conversation from nearby adventurers reached her ears.

“…rare monster parts…”

“…auction in the plaza…”

“…heard it’s today…”

Her ears perked up slightly, but she kept her face blank.

“Here we go!” Fatima’s cheerful voice snapped her back to the present as the receptionist placed a small scroll on the counter. It was bound with a faded red ribbon and smelled faintly of burnt paper.

The girl reached for it, but Fatima held on to the scroll for a moment longer, leaning forward with a smile. “You’re really something, you know that? Most kids your age wouldn’t even think about trading with adventurers, let alone handling themselves like this.”

The girl blinked, her face as stoic as ever. “Thanks.”

Fatima finally released the scroll and picked up the wolf pelt with both hands, admiring it once more. “Well, I guess if you’re sure about the trade, I can’t argue. But remember, you’re always welcome here!”

The girl tucked the scroll into her bag and turned to leave, raising a small hand in a half-hearted wave. “Goodbye.”

As she walked away, the hum of conversation in the guild grew louder. Her steps quickened, her mind now fixated on the mention of the auction. If rare monster parts were being sold, there was no way she was going to miss it.

Fatima watched her go with a smile, already thinking about the next time the mysterious little girl would show up at her counter with another interesting story hidden behind her blank expression.