Daisuke hung his head low as he approached. The door to the Merchants’ Guild had never appeared so large and imposing. Its surface seemed to twist and shift before his eyes, exuding an ominous aura, as though it had been plucked straight from a scene in a horror film.

But it wasn’t drugs that had Daisuke hallucinating such madness—it was shame. Yes, the shame of failing to pay off the measly one silver he owed the guild for his registration, a debt that had been hanging over him for well over two months now.

Gathering what little confidence he could muster, Daisuke swallowed hard and cautiously stepped inside. Just like before, the moment he entered, the merchants in the lobby turned their heads in unison to size him up. Their gazes were filled with a mixture of disdain and curiosity.

Ignoring their scrutiny, Daisuke scanned several of the service counters manned mostly by female employees and made his way up to the main corner where a familiar individual stood.

Instead of a scowl and a fiery chain of dark accusations, Jean shook in surprise, her eyes wide with relief. “H-Haxks!” She exclaimed. “I’m so happy you’re alright! We’ve been worried sick!”

Daisuke, of course, shrank back in alarm. This wasn’t quite the welcome he was expecting. While Jean wept like a baby, he attempted to comfort her, only to have the hysterical clerk lunged forward across the counter and hugged him tightly.

“Wahhh! Haxks~!”

Daisuke cringed when he spied a length of snot bungee jump from her nose. Before he could pry her off him, she aggressively rubbed her face in his chest, smearing the nose juice all over his attire.

Both Daisuke and Zephyr paled together at the unsavory sight.

“I’m relieved to see that you’re in good health,” came a warm and raspy voice from behind.

“G-Guildmaster,” Jean remarked, finally relinquishing her hulk-like grip and began wiping away her persistent tears.

Daisuke turned around to face the old lady, his disposition remorseful, his eyes repentant. Before he could weave words of apology, the Guildmaster spoke.

“One of our merchants saw when you were approached by a shady group,” she informed him calmly. “He wasn’t there for the outcome, but we had a pretty good idea of what happened. We’re just relieved it didn’t turn into the worst-case scenario and that you’re safe.”

“…And what exactly would’ve been the worse-case scenario?”

The woman’s gaze darkened ominously, and Daisuke raised his hands dismissively. “Okay, forget I asked.” Something tells me I’m better off not knowing. “More importantly, isn’t there a penalty for missing two monthly payments on my loan? What’s the damage?”

“About that,” the woman began, gesturing to Jean who gave a ninety-degree bow similar to what Daisuke had done when the loan was initially approved.

The girl peeked up from beneath her eyelashes, her skirt barely cascading over the creamy curves of her bottom. When she spied Daisuke’s expectant gaze, she clapped her hands together and tightly closed her eyes. “I’m so sorry!” She blurted out ungracefully. “I kinda… may have forgotten to check the rarity of the mana crystal you turned in for sale.”

Jean bowed lower, the posture revealing striped panties. “According to Mr. Devereux, the rarity of the crystal you had suggested it may have originated from within a Hidden Dungeon. In other words…,” her voice became small. “I may have… sorta short-changed you during that transaction. I’m so very sorry!”

“Mr. Devereux?” Daisuke muttered, one eyebrow arched in question. But as he connected the dots, he remembered the flamboyant connoisseur with the magic monocle who wanted to purchase the mana crystal for one hundred gold. Of course, the transaction fell through when he was attacked by the four stooges.

“As compensation for this blunder,” the Guildmaster began, “we’re willing to entirely dismiss the loan and pay reparations.”

“Reparations?”

“The guild will pay seventy percent of the difference you were short-changed. This seventy percent, of course, will be based on the market price for Hidden Dungeon mana crystals.”

“No, that’s okay,” Daisuke said, raising his hands dismissively. “If you’re willing to drop the loan payment, then let’s just call the whole thing water under the bridge. There’s really no need to pay me back.”

The Guildmaster smiled fondly, then she opened a single eye to peek at the canine who was surprisingly still within the boy’s company.

Young people these days were very impressionable, often quick to adopt the negative beliefs of their friends and family. It was very refreshing to see a youngster getting along with a domesticated monster or demihuman.

Zephyr lay sprawled atop his throne, returning the sneering looks of the onlookers with a defiant glare of his own. Daisuke noticed the Guildmaster’s gaze lingering on them but felt no reason to be alarmed.

Now that he was officially a Player, people would likely assume Zephyr was a Companion, not some untamed beast ready to cause havoc. He no longer saw the need to keep concealing him—at least, not here.

“H-Haxks,” Jean muttered sheepishly, nervously fidgeting with her fingers, her entire behavior today very uncharacteristic. “Thank you for being okay,” she added in a small, hesitant voice. “I know things were tough for you before you joined the guild… and the thought of never having the chance to apologize to you was really weighing on me.”

Daisuke returned a cool smile. “Don’t feel bad,” he reassured. “Even if you had paid me the right amount, it would’ve all gone to the thugs anyway; they took everything but the shirt on my back.”

“That’s terrible!” Jean exclaimed, evidently devastated.

The Guildmaster shook her head in pity.

“Are you sure there’s nothing we can do as compensation for this whole mess?” Jean asked again, almost pleadingly.

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

Daisuke’s eyebrows descended like dark clouds eclipsing the sun. “…Information,” he said in a hushed tone, illustrating the importance and confidentiality of the following words. “I was recently made aware that several children from my hometown were carried off by slave traders. Is there anything you can tell me so that I might possibly find a lead? Anything at all?”

The Guildmaster and Jean exchanged curious glances, but before either one of them could speak, they felt a force that almost rivaled a slap in the face. Jean was mostly oblivious, but Daisuke, Zephyr, and the Guildmaster’s head snapped around suddenly, their eyes narrowed cautiously.

The unpleasant energy was emanating from a single individual outside the guild. By the way he was exerting his spiritual pressure, it was obvious he was basically asking for, or demanding an audience.

“Something tells me he’ll provide far more reliable information than we possibly could,” muttered the Guildmaster, a single eye open.

Daisuke turned on his heels, the gesture an abrupt farewell. “You took the words right out of my mouth.”

“I appreciate you taking care of those thugs,” the Guildmaster began, evidently well in the loop about what happened to Casimir and his cronies. “It really helped out a lot with business. But be careful… some of these delinquents are connected with very powerful and dangerous people.”

Daisuke cast both women an appreciative sidelong glance before making his way to the door. Feigning ignorance, he stepped outside, kept his head straight, and began making his way north.

“At last we meet… Julian Nathaniel Langley.”

Daisuke felt a spell of Déjà vu—the last stranger who had brazenly called out to him in a very similar situation had completely turned his life into a living hell. This time, of course, things would be entirely different.

With eyes narrowed to dangerous slits, Daisuke turned around to face the source of the distasteful aura—a tall, slender, and handsome man garbed in a fancy navy-blue suit.

The man smiled warmly, his neatly braided ponytail draping over his right shoulder as he gave the small kitten he was caressing a gentle pat, sending it on its way.

Then he rose to his feet and carefully began removing his white gloves—one and then the other. The task was so methodologically done that it was obvious he had some kind of obsessive-compulsive disorder.

With a magic-trick like performance, he used a perfectly controlled fire-based spell to incinerate the pair of gloves. Then he reached into his jacket to retrieve a fresh pair.

“You’re a difficult man to track down,” said the stranger who was yet to lift his gaze, meticulously pinching the glove to ensure each finger was resting snug in place.

Daisuke observed the scene with little interest; he was more curious about the appellation the bastard—well, he wasn’t proven to be scum quite yet—had used to regard him.

He had hoped the false alias and all the nightmares associated with it would have gone up into flames along with Reginald’s manor that night, but life wasn’t always that accommodating.

“I’m sorry, but I think you may have me confused for someone else,” Daisuke responded, failing miserably at concealing his scorn.

“Interesting,” the man replied calmly, finally holding Daisuke’s unenthusiastic gaze. “I think the slave traders’ description of you is pretty accurate though.”

Daisuke’s eyes narrowed in enlightenment.

“From what I’ve heard, you left quite the impression on Reginald. A matter-of-fact, he was so fascinated by your performance that he offered to accommodate you within his home and… teach you the secrets of alchemy.”

The punchline.

Daisuke frowned at the man’s emphasis on the last word. It was becoming quite clear what this bastard—yes, it’s been established now that he’s scum—is solely after.

The sacred art of alchemy was conceptualized in the Percival’s household, and Reginald was desperately trying to rediscover and pioneer the applications of this ancient craft. It was only natural that a lot of people would be greedily watching and lying in wait for an opportunity to capitalize on such a monumental resource.

Now that everything had quite literally gone up into flames, similar to when Cedric Oswald Percival died and took the secrets of alchemy with him to the grave, people were now coming forward and clasping at straws, desperate to find another promising lead.

“I’m sorry,” Daisuke said dismissively while turning his back. “But I think you’ve got the wrong guy. I’m just a humble Adventurer.”

Without a word, the man began reaching into his jacket again. Daisuke looked to the side cautiously, his sixth sense stirring. Before he could summon the Lipanthyer’s Fang, the man harmlessly pulled out a small book and began flipping through the pages.

“Did you know… it’s pretty much the norm in the scientific community for scholars and researchers to prepare magic circles that protects their records in the event of natural disasters,” he informed casually. “Reginald, of course, was no exception:

Sep. 21st xxx,

I’m stumped.

Weeks have passed without any progress. There is something amiss with the alchemical formula and I fear I may never find a solution, despite how miniscule I think it may be.

Sep. 22nd xxx,

Despite being absent faith, I think the gods may have just sent me a muse. It was in the form of a thieving child from the slums who goes by the name of Haxks.

His silver hair and bright brown eyes were bizarre—and despite the lies spilling from his lips, he exuded a mysterious aura that I somehow knew would be the solution to all my problems.

Fearing that any obstructions may stifle the natural flow of the elements, I gave the child and his supposed sibling free roam of my estate. And while I awaited the universe to weave its mysterious power, I implored him to learn about the fundamentals of alchemy in the hopes that it will supplement the process.

That was the last record Reginald managed to transcribe before we found his burned out remains in what was left of the manor.”

While the man read the journal, Daisuke had schooled his face into a perfect mask, yet his fingers were balled into tight fists. Twice in his lifetime, he didn’t think he would be confronted with the fact that Reginald knew the whole truth from the very beginning. It was embarrassing.

“There aren’t many people in this small town with silver hair who fits your description,” the man asserted. “So I’m already pretty convinced that you’re the one I’m looking for.”

Daisuke’s eyebrows furrowed, his patience wearing thin. “Say, hypothetically, I am the one you’re looking for, what makes you think I would’ve learnt anything significant about this alchemy in such a short period of time?

Today’s December 9th, and the last mentioned date in the journal is September 22nd. Isn’t alchemy supposed to be some kind of complicated science?”

The man heaved an amused smile, not at all deterred. He could clearly remember the hidden chamber and the burnt grimoire he had uncovered in the manor, both of which he had no recollection. And, like Reginald, he knew every single square inch of the property.

“Who are you anyway?” Daisuke asked.

“My name is Adrian Lysander Percival—the illegitimate son.”

“Well, Adrian, I’m sorry for your loss,” Daisuke said while strolling away. “And for the time you wasted tracking me down. But I’m not the one you’re looking for.”

Adrian turned to leave as well, his sidelong glance dark and malicious. “That’s such a shame,” he uttered tauntingly. “Then I guess Brek, Ribbit, and the rest of the notorious Slum Sprites will have to wait patiently until I find the real Haxks Starfrost—”

Before the bastard could punctuate his sentence with an exclamation sign or a period, Daisuke turned on his heels like a feral beast and lunged at the menace, the Lipanthyer’s Fang gleaming in the sunlight.

STAB!

He drove the hungry blade into the man’s leg, ensuring to avoid a fatal injury so that he could thoroughly interrogate the criminal afterward. But instead of blood spilling out from the wound, there was an obnoxious squeal like air escaping from a deflating balloon—then an explosion.

BOOM!

The bastard’s body was entirely rendered to smoke, and from the billowing veil, a loud, provocative cackle erupted.

Ignoring the annoying distraction, Zephyr cocked his nose while Daisuke activated the Eye of Verity. Amidst the receding cloud, they noted a figure concealed by mana who was making a hasty escape and immediately gave chase.

“Arf-Arf!” Zephyr heaved a cautious bark.

“I know it’s likely a trap, but what other choice do we have?” Daisuke responded urgently. “If he’s really taken the kids hostage, then they’re in trouble!”