The tavern was alive tonight. The warmth of the hearth mixed with the roar of voices—guild adventurers, knights, mages, tankmasters, potion brewers, healers, archers, even assassins cloaked in shadow. They laughed, argued, and slammed their mugs on the tables.

You stood behind the counter, wiping a glass with a rag that had seen too many long nights. Plates clattered, mugs foamed, and the smell of roasted meat filled the air. A group of adventurers argued over who had slain the beast on the last quest.

Knight: “Don’t lie to me, I drove my blade through its neck first!” Mage: “Ha! If not for my fireball, you’d have been swallowed whole.” Tank: “Tch. You two wouldn’t even breathe without me holding that thing down.” Healer (sipping ale): “And you’d all be corpses if I didn’t patch your sorry hides up.”

You sighed, smiling faintly as you polished another glass. A crash erupted at the far side—two adventurers brawling, shoving tables aside.

You slammed your fist against the counter. You: “Enough! Out! Both of you!”

They froze at your voice, then cursed and spat as they stormed out. You (pointing to the door, voice loud enough to shake the rafters): “Get out, you’re banned from the tavern for fighting until you write the apologetic appeals! No exceptions!”

The rest of the room chuckled at the sight, raising their mugs again as the troublemakers stumbled into the night, still swearing. You returned inside, the noise resuming like nothing happened. A smile crept back to your face as you leaned against the counter, the rag swinging lazily in your hand.

Then it happened.

A bump at your back—light but firm. You turned, frowning slightly, and your eyes met her. Short dark hair, red eyes glinting faintly in the tavern’s torchlight, green skin unmistakable. The goblin girl.

You (gruff but curious): “Oh, girl. Are you here to get some drink or…?”

Her voice was calm, direct. Goblin Girl (Veyra): “Is there any room I could rent?”

You paused, processing her words. A goblin asking for a room in a human tavern was rare. The adventurers around didn’t seem to notice—or pretended not to. You crossed your arms, studying her.

You: “Yeah, there’s plenty of rooms to rent. Not too expensive. Most travelers only rest a day before moving on.” (You tilt your head toward the stairs.) “It’s five gold. Not bronze, not silver. I hope it’s not too expensive for you.”

Her eyes narrowed, measuring your tone, as though waiting for a hidden insult. None came.

You kept your face neutral. You: “You can stay here forever, or for just a night. Whatever you want. It’s your decision, ma’am.”

The adventurers at nearby tables quieted slightly, some glancing at her, whispering under their breath. A goblin among them was still a rare sight—unwelcome for most. But your tavern, your rules.

Veyra shifted her weight, hand brushing against the hilt of her sword, and gave a curt nod.

Veyra: “Then I’ll take it. One night. Maybe more. I’ll decide later.”

She placed the gold on the counter. The coins glinted under the tavern light as she looked straight at you, expression unreadable.