Ace had his eyes locked onto Edris the entire way back to Mosky Inn.

At first, the latter simply ignored it, but after enduring the relentless, scrutinising gaze for five minutes straight, he finally turned to the fluff of pink resting on his shoulder.

“If you were a human, I might think you’re trying to flirt with me.”

— Why did you agree to help Dolan Zacriya?

A group of children raced past Edris, who casually dodged his body to the side. People always packed Lennet Street in the afternoons, whether working, eating, or simply taking a walk.

Instead of responding to Ace’s question, Edris peered to the southern end of the street, only to blink twice.

“The bakery is already closed at this hour?”

This time of day was optimal for local businesses, especially restaurants, to make money.

Wendy’s Bakery Stand was one of his favourite bread shops in Nolmes. Not only were their desserts actually sweet, the store owner often packed him samples. On afternoons like this, the line to the bakery would often extend out the door, even down the side of the street.

Eyeing the CLOSED sign that dangled by the door front, he slowly retracted his gaze.

“What a shame…”

— …

“I know, I know. You think that there’s no reason for me to help Dolan Zacriya. But he offered me a deal, and I told him my wish, remember?”

Edris wanted to live a peaceful life.

— It didn’t end up being a part of the written contract, though.

“I suppose not.”

The finalized transaction between Edris and the Crown Prince involved the former investigating the Slums and the latter providing monetary reward in return. The extent of investigation was up to Edris, but the amount of money he received would be of equivalent value to the information he supplies.

And as for the wish about a peaceful life…

“It was just some food for thought for the Crown Prince, the future leader of the kingdom.”

— Liar.

Ace mercilessly exposed Edris’s excuse. While the wish wasn’t contract-bound, the fact that the man had mentioned it first made it the unspoken condition.

In past transactions, Edris always chose tangible items as his conditions. Yes, he always prioritized money, but Ace knew the base amount in the contract alone was far from enticing for Edris to accept the deal. After all, with his capabilities, he could fully secure the same, if not more money, without involving himself in the risks posed by the transaction.

But he did, and this time, his true condition was nothing close to the usual tangible items.

Peace.

It was a concept. A subjective, timeless concept.

Knowing Edris, who would always aim for the greatest benefits in any situation, there was no way the man would put an abstract concept as his condition, especially when the other party’s request involved putting himself in potential danger.

Ace glanced up again, and this time, Edris held his gaze from the start. Instead of the usual plotting glint in his eyes, they rest in aloofness, unfocused as the dark-haired man strolled deep in thought.

Just as Ace withdrew his eyes and was about to retreat to his cozy pocket, the man spoke up.

“You’re right. I don’t do anything that is not of at least equivalent exchange.” Edris shrugged. “Partaking in an investigation that involves both physical labour and mental skills in exchange for a verbal promise of peace doesn’t sound very fair, does it?

“But Ace, do you remember what my goal was upon coming here?”

— …A house.

Edris wanted to buy a cottage in Nolmes, and then travel the world.

“You actually remembered? I’m moved to tears.”

The housing market in the Zacriya Kingdom was only open to those with power, often nobles in direct collaborations with the royal family. Nolmes, for example, fell under the management of the Orteons, who provided resident dwellings with funds from the Fortune Faction. As regular citizens, they could only "rent" out a dwelling from the Resource Faction for a certain number for years, then choose to renew the contract.

A rent contract, however, was vulnerable to a variety of unlisted circumstances. Unstable housing prices, natural disasters, shifting groups in power... Indeed, it was prone to exploitation.

What Edris wanted was something permanently his.

— You could have asked Dolan Zacriya to have that as your reward instead.

“That defeats the fun of it, doesn’t it? After all, it’s the whole process of working, saving, then buying the house that truly makes it your own.” Ignoring Ace’s judging stare, Edris chuckled. “To get a free one just like that? I wouldn’t want the Crown Prince to use it against me one day.”

Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.

Although pricier and far more complicated to achieve, the house he aimed for was one solely under his ownership, one outside the control of all authorities.

Often, Ace found Edris’s logic unfathomable.

— It’s highly improbable that he will.

“Highly improbable. But not impossible.” Edris cleared his throat. “Anyways, I’m sure you can tell, but whoever the Crown Prince’s going against, they’re quite skilled. They’re aware of his weaknesses, as well as the weaknesses of the kingdom.”

Considering the possibility that those forces were from neighbouring kingdoms, the idea of war was no longer out of the question.

Edris recalled Ace’s words on the first day they met.

If nothing was done about the budding conflicts, it’s plausible that more chaos would unfold in the near future. And if the situation escalated to a certain point—the kingdom’s eventual downfall.

It would be a gruesome process to go through for everyone, and Edris was focused on a particular aspect of the process.

Indeed, he had his worries. A specific, apprehensive thought had been lingering on his mind for a while now.

What’s the purpose of a house? To Edris, it was permanent dwelling. It’s supposed to be a place he could return to for a long, long time.

However, in the context of war…

“My cottage,” he muttered to himself in all seriousness. “You think it’ll be able to withstand mana bombs?”

***

THE ROYAL PALACE. NOLMES.

Two figures sat in the Crown Prince’s room.

“Your Highness, this may not be in my place to say this, but I believe you should reconsider.”

Dolan, sipping his limberry tea, set his gaze on the white-robed man across from him.

“Is that all you wanted to say, Priest Alder?”

Priest Alder had come to update the Crown Prince about the conditions of the Queen and the first prince. After hearing about his transaction with Edris, the priest had expressed his adamant opposition.

Dolan didn’t refute his words as he only stared at him in silence.

There were few people in the palace that he could trust, and Priest Alder was one of them. Although he was an obsolete, stubborn man, he and Priest Edith had served the royal family for decades. They were the only ones Dolan could trust to treat his family.

“Priest Alder, I am not telling you this to consult your opinion but to notify you.”

“B-but Your Highness! To bet your cards on someone as unstable as Prophet Edris—it’s far too risky!”

“Unstable?” Dolan leaned into the couch. A radiant smile pasted across his face, as though he was at one of his garden parties. “You should have seen him.”

He recalled their encounter from earlier.

Aside the traveller’s pale complexion, which had at this point become a defining trait, he didn’t look sickly at all. His eyes, especially, were identical to when Dolan first saw him at the Wulin Tournament: calm and clear, without a hint of uncertainty.

Without knowing about the rumours beforehand, no one would think he was in an uncontrollable state.

“Don’t worry, Uncle Alder.” Dolan said, and Priest Alder’s exasperated look softened at his drop of formalities. “I know what I’m doing. So all you need to do is keep up what you’re doing. Mother and Treo depend on you.

“I could count on you, right?”

“...Of course.” Seeing that the Crown Prince was not planning to yield, Priest Alder knowingly backed off. His forehead creased in light of another thought. “But will Prophet Edris be okay on his own? It’s the Sect he’s trying to investigate, after all. Shouldn’t we send at least some people to help him out?”

“I offered, but he declined,” Dolan said, a tinge of regret in his tone.

While employing troops would draw attention from people in the palace, Dolan still kept other tactics up his sleeves. When he suggested to Edris on providing him with subtle reinforcements, the latter straight up refused.

“I will go alone,” Edris said.

“You may not know this since you’re not from around, but the Slums are a dangerous place,” Dolan explained. “It’s full of people that the Risk Faction has trouble dealing with. Even if both of you are quite powerful, it will be difficult to handle by yourselves.”

“Your Highness.” In response to his apprehension, Edris merely smiled. “You must have heard about the rumours about me. Do you know what they are calling me?”

Dolan fell quiet at his question, but they both knew the answer.

The Fallen Prophet.

“Do you think it’s wise to dispatch anyone from the palace to support someone with this reputation? Even more, are you sure that the support you gather wouldn’t backfire in this situation?

“Your Highness, I would appreciate it if you leave me with ample freedom in this transaction.”

And that had marked the end of their conversation.

Dolan let out another sigh as he placed the empty teacup on the table. Priest Alder took it as a cue and leaned forward to pour more tea, but the former shook his head, his mind spiralling into another matter at hand.

Back at Alan’s store, he had asked Edris about his wish, to which the traveller replied with “peace.”

Peace.

It was an abstract word, even philosophical.

Did Edris have a specific definition for peace that he wanted him to work towards? Dolan wasn’t sure, nor did he ask.

He wasn’t sure what it would take to fulfil his wish, nor the specifics it entailed. However, he would never forget the sincerity on the traveller’s pale face as he spoken his wish.

It was an expression that gave him a sense of uneasiness.

There was a sense of certain conviction to Edris’s words, to the point where Dolan would expect the traveller to resort to anything to achieve this peace.

Even if it meant sacrifice.

But to achieve a peace that involved sacrifice–would the end result still be “peace”?

Since his arrival in the kingdom, Edris had already involved himself in several large-scale incidents and was injured multiple times. Even Dolan, who didn’t frequently interact with the dark-haired traveller, noticed his deterioration.

Edris had attributed his physical change to a “bad diet,” but naturally, Dolan saw right through the excuse.

He didn’t want the traveller to injure himself further for the sake of a kingdom he had only set foot on weeks ago.

It just wouldn’t make sense.

“If Prophet Edris says it’s fine, then I will respect his decision.” Strolling towards the balcony, Dolan peered down at the streets of Nolmes. As usual, it bloomed with the liveliness of citizens, bursting in a spectrum of vibrancy. “As the Crown Prince, I won’t interfere with his plans. It’s for the best for both of us.”

He leaned past the golden railings. A gust of wind blew past him, and into the room behind him as it left the doors swinging side to side.

“As the Crown Prince?” Priest Alder keenly caught the distinction in his words.

The tips of Dolan’s lips curled up.