Midsummer Festival.
One of the most important festivals on the Aifala Continent.
It fell in the middle of the seventh month each year—the Month of Summer Tide—on the day when daylight lasted longest, marking both the turn of the seasons and the height of summer.
As for the festival's origins, they had long since been lost in the continent's countless years of strife and the tangled, contradictory Epics of the gods.
Yet people still followed the customs passed down through the generations, celebrating the midpoint of the year in their own ways.
Banquets, weddings, divinations—
Even the hardworking farmers in the fields, bent so long they could hardly straighten their backs, would give themselves a short break that day, spend time with their families, and add two extra slices of dried meat to dinner.
The people of River Valley Town were naturally no exception.
"Mission number: 1062. Required personnel: 4. Already full. Next."
"Why is it short three silver? This Goblin ear of yours only has half a piece left. It doesn't count toward the bounty.
Next."
"I don't sell the Adventurer's Manual here. Next."
"No time. Next."
"Next—"
Her head drooping, she wearily rang the bell.
Molly slumped behind the counter and called out weakly.
But in front of her, there was no movement for a long time.
Nor was the usual chattering clamor in her ears.
She raised her head and saw that the association hall, which should have been packed with adventurers rushing to and fro, was now empty and deserted.
Only a scattered few staff members in Adventurers Association uniforms were laughing and chatting as they walked toward the entrance together.
Molly could not help pausing.
Then, as if she had suddenly remembered something, the listless, half-dead weariness on her face, as though she had not