If anyone had told Shin Rin that he would spend his eighth birthday wrapped in bandages and nearly bedridden, he would have called them mad. The day had started off promising enough—well, except for the math and statistics tutoring. Normally, Rin wouldn’t have minded, but this time the tutor was his mother’s apprentice clerk, Mrs. Gwi. That meant listening to a lecture he already knew inside out. Boredom crept in until an idea sparked in his mind.

“Excuse me, Mrs. Gwi,” Rin said, interrupting her dry recitation of a scroll, “I’ve been working on a formula. It might help with the city’s economics.”

Mrs. Gwi’s eyes darted up from the parchment, a glare forming behind her glasses. “Young master, your mother, Lady Shin Lee, asked me to tutor you today, and I will,” she said, voice hardening. Rin held her gaze, unfazed by the attempt to intimidate him. Mrs. Gwi might be stern, but Rin knew true terror—his mother when she was displeased. The woman continued, “Now, please focus on the lesson. Questions will be taken after.”

She resumed her lecture, but Rin was not so easily dismissed.

“It is my birthday today, Mrs. Gwi,” he added casually, as if reminding her of something she should already know. Her eyes narrowed slightly, but she stayed silent. Seeing his opportunity, Rin pressed on. “And on my birthday, my mother and I usually test my knowledge with a challenge. Seeing as she isn’t here, perhaps you could stand in?”

He gave a small bow, his polite words hiding his true intention. Mrs. Gwi flushed ever so slightly at the comparison to his mother—he’d expected that. Rin had studied people enough to know that many were eager to prove themselves worthy of his mother’s approval. After a moment, she straightened, confident now. “Very well, young master,” she said, her tone dripping with pride. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

“But first,” Rin leaned forward conspiratorially, “let’s make it interesting. A wager?”

Her eyebrow quirked in curiosity, but she let him continue. “If you can solve my formula without any explanation from me, I’ll tell my mother you’re the best tutor I’ve ever had.” Rin let the offer hang in the air, watching Mrs. Gwi’s eyes light up at the prospect. His mother’s genius in economics was known across the land—earning her special praise was no small feat.

Mrs. Gwi smirked, but there was a glint of caution. “And if I can’t solve it?” she asked, clearly amused.

Rin shrugged. “Then I get to leave early, and you tell my mother I sat through the whole lecture and did splendidly.”

The silence stretched, her fingers twitching as she considered the wager. Eventually, she nodded, but then added slyly, “Let’s bind it with qi.”

Rin blinked. Qi binding? He hadn’t expected her to take it that seriously. Qi binding wasn’t something to take lightly—it was a technique merchants used to secure deals, with dire consequences for breaking them. If she wanted to go that far, she must really desire that recommendation.

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“I… don’t have qi yet,” Rin admitted, his voice quieter now. He didn’t like acknowledging that his dantian was empty. His mother had told him he lacked affinity with ice-aspected qi, but that it would come in time. He didn’t want to dwell on it, though, so he quickly added, “But we don’t need to go that far. How about a simple contract, like lesser merchants do?”

He flashed a charming smile, making his youth and inexperience work to his advantage. “I promise to hold up my end if you hold up yours. Besides, you’re the adult here—you’ve got all the power.”

Mrs. Gwi pursed her lips, then nodded slowly. “Fine, but we’ll sign in blood.”

Rin didn’t hesitate. “That’s acceptable.”

She pulled a sheet of paper from his mother’s desk, carefully avoiding any of Lady Shin’s documents, and wrote out a simple contract. Rin skimmed it and found nothing amiss—just straightforward terms. After she pricked her thumb and pressed it to the page, she handed the hairpin to Rin, who did the same without flinching.

“Now, young master,” she said with a smug smile, “show me what you’ve got.”

Rin moved toward the chalkboard with a calm confidence, grabbing a piece of charcoal. “Mrs. Gwi, I assume my mother has taught you about options in economic theory?”

Mrs. Gwi’s confident expression wavered slightly. “I’ve heard of it,” she replied cautiously, “but I’m not deeply familiar.”

Rin smiled, sensing her uncertainty. “That’s fine. You’ll need just a basic understanding.” He turned to the board and started writing. With every stroke, Mrs. Gwi’s face lost more color.

C = St N(d1 )−Xe−rtN(d2 )

When Rin finished, he turned around, expecting to see Mrs. Gwi ready with a response. Instead, she looked like she’d just seen a ghost. Her eyes were wide, mouth slightly open.

“Mrs. Gwi?” Rin called, stepping closer. No response. He poked her arm—nothing. After several more pokes, she blinked rapidly and turned to him.

“W-what do those letters mean?” she stammered, clearly thrown.

Rin sighed, turning back to the board. Of course, she didn’t understand the abbreviations. He quickly scribbled out a more detailed explanation beneath the formula.

Value of Option = Current Worth of Goods × Probability of Profit − Strike Price of Goods × e − Interest Rate × Time × Probability of Loss

He stepped back, waiting for Mrs. Gwi to respond, but she only seemed more baffled than before. Rin approached her cautiously. “Are you alright, Mrs. Gwi?”

She blinked again, finally shaking her head, as though trying to dispel a fog. “I… I don’t understand it,” she admitted, voice small. “Could you explain it, young master?”

Rin had expected many outcomes, but Mrs. Gwi bowing and asking for his help wasn’t one of them. He squinted at her, then asked, “So, does that mean I win the wager?”

Mrs. Gwi nodded, looking defeated. “Yes, young master. You may go, but…” She hesitated. “Please, explain it before you leave.”

With a nod, Rin quickly ran through the explanation, abbreviating as much as possible. He had more important things to do—like train and show his mother he could finally sense qi. Once he finished, he turned to her. “Is that acceptable, Mrs. Gwi?”

Silence.

He frowned, looking back to see her staring blankly at the board. With a final shrug, he bowed and darted out the door, calling, “Don’t forget your promise!”

As Rin dashed to the courtyard, his thoughts shifted from formulas to training. Today, he would prove himself. Today, he would make his mother proud.

Mrs. Gwi, meanwhile, remained frozen, staring at the formula. “Heavens help us,” she muttered. “Another one… His mother was bad enough. Now him, at just eight years old? This world may not be ready for him.”