That Day When Suzuki-kun Wasn't the Mob-B!

”Ah, um, right away, sir!”

The young female receptionist blushed furiously, scrambling eagerly to gather the registration forms.

Watching her flustered reaction, Suzuki nodded inwardly. It really was good to be handsome. Like every other version of himself across the multiverse, his original face had been, at best, slightly above average. But once the [Manager] took over, his biology had been mercilessly optimized. Every minor blemish, asymmetrical flaw, or sign of fatigue had been systematically erased.

More importantly, the fact that he had shed his mortality to become an Enlightened Sage meant all of his remaining human imperfections had simply vanished.

He was, in a word, flawless.

Still, since he was here to play the role of an adventurer, he needed an outfit that fit the part. But there was absolutely no way he was going to wear clunky, rusting iron armor that smelled of stale sweat and cheap leather. Nor was he going to carry a massive, unga-bunga broadsword. It completely ruined his aesthetic.

At the same time, walking into a guild hall wearing a bespoke, three-piece Tokyo business suit would make him an immediate target for every mugger in the city. He wanted to stay low-key—though, given his newly upgraded face, true anonymity was basically impossible.

So, what did he wear?

He looked like he had just stepped off a high-end Tokyo runway for a premium outdoor wear campaign. He wore a sleek, slate-grey nylon shell jacket, unzipped just enough to reveal a breathable, moisture-wicking base layer. His lower half featured relaxed-fit technical outdoor pants designed for maximum mobility, tapering down into a pristine pair of cream-and-black Salomon XT-6 trail running shoes.

It was pure ”Gorpcore” fashion dropped directly into a High Fantasy setting. And strangely enough, it worked perfectly.

”...What the heck is that guy wearing?”

”Isn’t he a noble?”

”He has to be! There’s no way a guy looks that ridiculously handsome without being a high-ranking noble!”

”Tsk! What a show-off. I bet the second he sees a goblin, he’s going to run crying back to his mama!”

”...But his clothes look so incredibly cool...”

The Blumund Free Guild was packed with rugged, dirty mercenaries who laughed and sneered as he walked in. Yet, even the most battle-hardened veterans couldn’t deny one absolute truth: the guy was just so incredibly handsome!

Suzuki completely ignored their whispers. His sole focus was on registering with the guild.

Why was he even doing this? Wouldn’t it be better to just register as a merchant, like his Arifureta counterpart had done?

While a merchant license was useful, he needed a highly secure, internationally recognized paper-trail identity. In the world of Tensura, the Free Guild in the Kingdom of Blumund was the absolute perfect place to establish one, as the small nation acted as the premier intelligence and adventuring hub for all the human territories.

”Oh?”

Of course, like any classic Isekai protagonist, he immediately ran into a small hiccup. Actually, the ”hiccup” was simply that his aura was too overwhelmingly striking.

Even if he stripped away the high-end clothes, he radiated the domineering aura of a ruthless corporate CEO, or the classic ”Duke of the Cold North” archetype. He possessed a freezing, untouchable charm.

He wasn’t overly muscular or bulky. Because the [Self-Made] skill prioritized absolute biological efficiency and endless stamina over brute force, his build was lean, streamlined, and perfectly proportioned—like an Olympic swimmer or a high-fashion model.

His face featured an immaculately carved jawline, high cheekbones, and perfectly clear skin that refused to sweat. His sleek, dark hair was styled to perfection; even if he stood in the middle of a Category 5 hurricane, his hair looked as though it had signed a non-disclosure agreement to never fall out of place.

But his eyes were his most terrifying feature. Because his [Etymologist] skill was constantly parsing the underlying ”syntax” of reality, his gaze was deep, piercing, and completely unbothered. When he looked at someone, he didn’t just see a person. He looked at them the way a ruthless auditor looks at a dismal quarterly earnings report—finding them severely lacking, especially the veteran adventurers who clearly didn’t have a proper retirement savings plan.

Despite their initial mockery, as Suzuki stood at the counter, his sheer presence made the surrounding mercenaries instinctively straighten their postures, discreetly tuck in their shirts, and apologize if they bumped into him.

The female receptionist was a nervous, stumbling wreck. She was incredibly shy, yet drawn to him like a helpless moth to a brilliant flame. However, before she could stamp his paperwork, someone else stepped in to take over.

”You wish to register as an adventurer?”

”Ah! Guildmaster!” the receptionist gasped, stepping back.

It was Fuze, the Guildmaster of the Blumund branch of the Free Guild.

He was a short, middle-aged man with dark hair greying at the temples. He had sharp, assessing eyes, a thin stubble beard, and a long, jagged scar running down the left side of his face. He looked eternally vigilant.

He certainly fits the generic Guildmaster description, Suzuki noted inwardly.

”I do,” Suzuki answered calmly.

”Then allow me to handle your registration personally.”

”Guildmaster?” the receptionist squeaked, clearly disappointed.

”Don’t worry, I’ll take it from here,” Fuze smiled gently, acting as though he were doing her a favor.

In reality, the receptionist was violently cursing her boss in her head. She had wanted to serve the ridiculously handsome stranger!

”Understood...” she sighed, shooting Fuze a fierce, resentful glare before walking away.

”...Why is she in such a bad mood?” Fuze muttered, genuinely confused.

Suzuki was far too lazy to explain basic human attraction to the man.

Only when Fuze turned his attention back to Suzuki did the Guildmaster fully grasp the situation. He let out a helpless sigh. Okay, he might have just ruined his receptionist’s chance at a forbidden romance, but he couldn’t let a normal employee handle this man.

Aside from being the Guildmaster, Fuze had a hidden, secondary identity: Assistant Supervisor of the Intelligence Department for the Blumund Kingdom.

With decades of survival experience, Fuze took one look at Suzuki and instantly knew the man was different. Weird, even. It was hard to put into words, but Suzuki screamed danger. And yet, for Blumund, danger was exactly what they needed right now.

As a small, relatively weak nation, Blumund lacked the military might to go to war. Their national defenses were woefully inadequate against serious threats. Furthermore, the Western Holy Church was completely disinterested in human-on-human geopolitical conflicts; their doctrine strictly focused on exterminating monsters. Without Church backing, Blumund heavily relied on the Free Guild as a proxy military force, retaining the right to draft 10% of the local branch’s 500,000 members during wartime.

But what terrified Fuze the most right now wasn’t standard human warfare. It was the aftermath of Veldora’s sudden disappearance.

For centuries, Veldora had turned the Jura Forest into an impenetrable no-man’s-land. No army dared cross it. But without the Storm Dragon acting as a buffer, the forest was wide open. Fuze was terrified that the Eastern Empire would use this exact moment to launch a massive invasion through the woods. Therefore, the more high-level adventurers Blumund retained, the better.

But how did Fuze know Suzuki was strong just by looking at him?

Because despite his desk job, Fuze was a retired upper A-Rank adventurer who possessed [Analysis Magic].

He discreetly activated the spell to check the handsome rookie’s stats, fully expecting to see a pampered noble with a vanity class.

Instead, the spell fed back the horrifying, dense magical signature of an Enlightened Sage.

Gulp!

A cold sweat broke out on the back of Fuze’s neck. He instantly regretted his bad habit of peeking at people’s stats.

”Is there something wrong, Guildmaster?” Suzuki asked calmly, his piercing eyes locking dead onto Fuze’s.

”N-No! No, it’s perfectly fine! Don’t worry at all! Allow me to handle all of your registration!” Fuze stammered, frantically waving his hands before desperately trying to regain his composure. He decided he needed to see this anomaly in action. ”But... since you’re registering, would you be willing to take a practical exam?”

”Sure.”

Suzuki didn’t mind. He was smack in the middle of a cliché Isekai storyline, after all. ”What kind of test?”

”You will be fighting—”

Before Fuze could finish his sentence, a gloomy man with dark hair, rough facial features, and a heavy peg leg stepped forward, cracking his knuckles loudly.

”Let’s see if you’re just a pretty face, pretty boy, or if you actually have some hidden power backing up those fancy clothes.”

”Thank you,” Suzuki replied genuinely.

”...” The gloomy man froze, completely derailed.

Regardless of the threat, the guy had just indirectly complimented his handsome face. Suzuki felt it was only polite to thank him for noticing. Honestly, he wasn’t hating this Isekai development at all.