If Freya had learned anything in her short, ridiculous career as a professional respawner and reluctant savior of bureaucratic kingdoms, it was this: Never underestimate a quest board. Especially not one that glowed ominously and made a low humming noise, like it was trying to summon an eldritch paperclip.
The board, titled "Tasks Most Grim and Slightly Inconvenient," loomed in the center of the Adventurer's Guild Hall. It was twice the size of Freya, edged in gold leaf and suspiciously moist on one side. Rumors swirled that the moisture came from the tears of defeated interns who tried to categorize the requests.
"Okay, team," Freya said to her current party: a cowardly elf bard named Lute, a dwarven paladin with anger issues named Beryl, and a talking cat rogue who insisted on being called Whiskerblade. "Let's pick something simple. We've earned a breather after the cabbage incident."
"The last time you said 'something simple,' we ended up in a haunted sauna run by demonic otters," Beryl grumbled, crossing her arms.
"They gave great foot rubs," Freya offered weakly.
Whiskerblade leapt up onto a table and began licking his paw. "We should choose based on potential loot. Not moral merit. Morals don't buy catnip."
Lute timidly pointed at a small piece of parchment that had managed to wedge itself behind the board. "What about this one? 'Retrieve Lady Grunhilda's Emotional Support Rock from Mount Passive-Aggression.' Sounds... manageable?"
Freya's eyes lit up. "Perfect! No demons, no ancient curses, no bureaucratic paperwork!"
They were wrong on all three counts.
The trek to Mount Passive-Aggression was, in a word, exhausting. It was less of a mountain and more of a series of steep hills connected by bridges made of unspoken resentment.
At the base, a sentient fence named Gerald blocked their path. "Password?" it rasped.
Freya blinked. "There was no mention of a password in the quest description."
Gerald shrugged his wooden posts. "Yeah, well, some of us like to feel important. Try again."
"Is it... 'please'?" Lute guessed.
Gerald made a buzzer noise with his splinters. "Wrong! Hint: it's something your ex said in your breakup letter."
Freya groaned. "Oh gods, which one? I've been dumped more times than I've died."
"Try 'I need space,'" Whiskerblade offered.
"Too generic," Beryl grunted.
"Wait," Freya muttered. "'It's not you, it's your respawn timer?'"
Click. The gate creaked open.
"Ugh," Gerald said. "Still makes me cringe."
As they passed, Freya made a note to write a very passive-aggressive Yelp review.
Mount Passive-Aggression was beautiful in a brooding, emotionally distant way. Every tree looked like it was judging them. Birds chirped passive-aggressive compliments: "Oh, that outfit. Bold choice!" and "I could never pull off your look. But then, I have taste."
Halfway up the slope, they encountered the first mini-boss: a giant squirrel monk named Brother Acornius.
"To pass," he said, twirling a nut-chaku, "you must complete the Trial of Subtle Snark."
"What does that entail?" Beryl asked.
"Deliver backhanded compliments until your opponent concedes defeat or cries."
Lute immediately began sweating. "I-I'm not good at confrontation."
"I'll go," Freya said, cracking her knuckles. "Snark is my native tongue."
Brother Acornius bowed. "Begin."
Freya smirked. "Your fur is so shiny. Must be all that time not spent dating."
"Oho!" Brother Acornius replied. "Your sword technique is… unique. Like interpretive dance meets self-harm."
They went back and forth for ten minutes until Brother Acornius dropped his nut-chaku and sobbed, "You didn't have to bring up my acorn collection like that!"
He handed them a ceremonial acorn and let them pass.
At the summit, they found Lady Grunhilda's Emotional Support Rock, which turned out to be a literal talking boulder named Kevin.
"I'm not going anywhere," Kevin said, voice deep and gravelly. "I'm grounded. Emotionally."
Freya knelt beside him. "We've been sent to bring you back. Grunhilda misses you."
Kevin sighed. "She only wants me when she's stressed. I deserve more. I deserve someone who appreciates my sedimentary layers every day."
"You tell her, Kev," Whiskerblade said, batting at a pebble.
"Look," Freya said, choosing her words carefully, "you're a rock. And she's a noblewoman who treats you like a security blanket. It's not healthy. But maybe if you two just... talked it out?"
Kevin rumbled. "You think so?"
"Absolutely. And maybe couples therapy. There's a traveling therapist-slash-barbarian who does rage-fueled group sessions."
"I'll consider it," Kevin said, rolling a few inches closer. "But only if I can keep my lava lamp."
"Deal."
Back at the guild, Freya slapped the completed quest form on the reception desk.
The receptionist, a sleepy goblin named Steve, glanced at it. "Did you remember to get it signed by the Sentient Fence?"
Freya's eye twitched. "We talked to him. He opened!"
"Still needs a signature."
"Of course it does."
"Also, did you file the Emotional Object Consent Form B-17?"
"We got consent verbally!"
"Verbal consent doesn't count. Unless it's notarized."
Whiskerblade hissed. "Do you want us to commit arson, Steve?"
Steve blinked. "Not before lunch, please."
Freya took a deep breath. "Okay. I'm going back to the mountain. I'm getting that signature. I'm getting the form. And I swear to every divine being, if that fence makes another sarcastic comment, I will repurpose him into lawn furniture."
One exhausting trip later, she returned with the signature and a splinter in her boot. Steve nodded solemnly.
"Great. Now we can give you your reward."
Freya's eyes lit up. "Gold? Gear? Magical upgrades?"
Steve handed her a coupon.
"One Free Hug from Kevin the Support Rock."
Freya stared at it. "This… this is worse than the otter spa."
"It's non-transferable," Steve added helpfully.
Beryl sighed. "At least he's warm. For a rock."
Freya pocketed the coupon, shoulders slumping. "Let's go find another quest. Maybe one with less emotional labor."
The quest board began humming again.
"Why does it sound like it's rebooting?" Lute asked.
A new slip of parchment emerged slowly from the board's center, like a printer that resented its job.
Whiskerblade read it aloud. "'Escort the Noble Toddler of Screechville to his Naptime Fortress.'"
Everyone stared at Freya.
"I swear, if that kid bites me again, I'm uninstalling this entire isekai."
The board shimmered. The title of the new quest scrolled across it in magical letters:
"Quest Accepted: Baby's Day Out—But With Goblins."
Freya sighed. "We're gonna need more coupons."