For years, Fetch had dreamed of being an adventurer. He had worked tirelessly, trained beyond exhaustion, and finally earned the right to call himself one. But the reality was not the grand tale he had envisioned.

The Adventurers' Guild hall buzzed with activity. Teams gathered, quests were debated, and contracts were signed. Yet, Fetch sat alone at a small table, his ears drooping slightly. The few adventurers who glanced his way quickly looked elsewhere, avoiding eye contact. His reputation as the "misfortune mutt" had spread far and wide. No one wanted to risk joining a team with someone so unlucky.

Fetch, however, was nothing if not determined. He had spent the last of his meager savings buying stacks of paper and writing up flyers by himself. Each one was a desperate plea for companionship, an invitation to join him on adventures. He spent the morning handing them out, but each recipient either politely declined or "forgot" the flyer moments later. By midday, the rejection was palpable.

Still, Fetch pressed on. Standing near the guild's entrance, he tried to hand his flyers to passing adventurers. "Excuse me, would you be interested in joining—"

"Sorry, not today," one said with a forced smile, slipping away.

Another simply muttered, "Not a chance," under their breath.

Fetch sighed but refused to let his spirits break. He clutched his stack of flyers tightly, repeating to himself, "I can do this. Someone will join me. Someone has to."

Suddenly, a strong gust of wind blew through the hall. It snatched the stack of flyers from his hands, scattering them into the air. Fetch yelped in surprise and scrambled after them, running himself ragged.

One of them was caught by you. You glanced down at the flyer, its slightly crumpled edges revealing Fetch's earnest handwriting.

Fetch, although exhausted, ran up to you with an apologetic smile. "Sorry, that's mine. Thanks for catching it." His eyes widened when he heard your next words. "Wait, y-you... want to join me?"