Lillith left with her sister, while Rosen followed Shabolai to Lillith's room on the second floor of the inn.

The stocky warrior slumped in a chair, his round thighs perched on the table, constantly quivering. The furniture beneath him creaked piteously, as if about to collapse at any moment.

"Easy there, laddie. I, Shabolai, neither kill beauties nor children. Just be obedient, and I'll ensure no harm comes to you - nay, I'll even keep you safe."

With Lillith's and the nightingale's examples before him, Rosen believed this claim nine-tenths true.

He relaxed considerably but retained a deferential attitude. "Mr. Shabolai, may I untie my hands?"

Shabolai shrugged. "Of course. But stay in my sight, or else accidents may occur beyond my protection."

Rosen started. "Why? Does someone want to hurt me?"

"Indeed, they do."

Shabolai's broad mouth pouted as he jerked his chin toward a mirror. "Look at your back and see what you've got there."

Rosen's heart skipped a beat. He 'hurriedly' went to the mirror and inspected his back, only to find the thumbnail-sized scorched hole in his beastskin tunic.

This was naturally Selus's lingering curse.

He thought resentfully, "Careless!"

With feigned distress, he said, "Oh dear, it's burnt through! No wonder I'm always feeling a draft. I thought it was just a worn spot."

'Hahaha!'

Shabolai threw back his head and guffawed. "What an innocent lamb, unaware how close you came to meeting death!"

"What do you mean?" Rosen adopted a frightened look.

Shabolai lifted a cup of tea from the pot and sipped lightly before speaking lazily. "The hole in your tunic with the blackened, cracked edges - that's no fire's work but a dark spell's corrosion. Your teacher has a vicious heart."

"Ah~~" Rosen pretended shock, but inwardly remained composed. 'As expected, veterans of the jianghu are never simple.'

Shabolai chuckled, the corners of his huge eyes crinkling shut in seeming drowsiness.

"Poor lad, your teacher was ready to end you as he fled, lest you fall into other hands."

"Yet here I am, safe and sound."

"You've me to thank for your life!"

Shabolai spit his tea back into the cup with a grimace. "Bah, what wretched tea, cloyingly sweet!"

He then explained, "He silenced his killing curse rather than risk my hearing your death throes. Else with your naivety, ten lives wouldn't have sufficed."

Feigning dismay, Rosen asked, "But why would Teacher want to kill me?"

"Better to destroy than let another gain what one can't obtain oneself - I've seen many such vengeful souls."

"Small-minded and mediocre yet believing the world unfairly stacked against them, they resent and blame all."

"Heh, but I spare you the lesson...if you live to learn it someday."

Recalling some past unpleasantness, melancholy flickered over Shabolai's round face.

"Just stay close and behave. My protection's not eternal, but I'll not watch your blackhearted teacher murder you."

Rosen was only too eager. "You have my deepest thanks for your shelter, Mr. Shabolai."

After that, Shabolai sprawled back in the chair with half-lidded eyes, wordlessly immobile.

Despite the security of this mighty guard, Rosen didn't dare attempt primordial meditation.

Nor could he sleep. Utterly bored, he picked up his art supplies and idly mixed some paints, smearing them haphazardly on the canvas.

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"Say, kid, can't you paint beauties? Do one for me - Lillith nude, for instance." Shabolai's voice sounded behind him.

"A nude beauty?"

Recalling Shabolai's vow never to kill beauties, inspiration struck Rosen. "What kind of beauty did you have in mind, sir?"

Shabolai's eyes flew wide open, and he sprang to animated life. "Cocky brat! How many beauties can you have seen at your age?"

Rosen's face took on utmost confidence. "In recent days, sir, I've seen quite a few. Also, much can be imagined without witnessing directly."

"Imagined?" Shabolai guffawed. "How amusing, how amusing!"

Then he said, "Can you paint fair maidens in the flesh? Lillith naked, for example?"

Rosen sneered inwardly, "Isn't that a bit blatant?"

But he nodded. "Yes, I've seen her undressed."

At his reply, Shabolai's mouth stretched nearly to his earlobes in lecherous delight.

"Of course you have! Otherwise you couldn't paint all those beauties."

Seeing Rosen poised to begin, he raised a hand to stop him.

"While lovely in form, Lillith lacks mystery, having been seen by us both. Instead, conjure me an imaginary belle to broaden my horizons."

Noting Rosen's confusion, he earnestly added,

"Known as the number one knight protector of beauties in the Northlands, I've gazed upon a thousand supreme masterpieces, if not eight hundred. To impress me is no easy feat!"

Rosen asked, "Then may I ask you some questions about all the beauties you've seen?"

"Ask away."

"Among them, where would you rank Miss Lillith - top, middle, or lower tier?"

"Excellent question!"

Shabolai gazed up at the ceiling, lost in recollection.

After a lengthy pause, he said, "Truthfully, Miss Lillith's looks rate only lower tier. Her youthful, tender skin and vitality partly compensate. Her simple nature, though cunning, lacks depth or intrigue - an unsullied mountain spring, pure and sweet. On the whole, middle tier."

"So personality also influences beauty?"

"Naturally. A viperous heart will inevitably mar looks over time, transforming feminine charm into ugliness."

His standards clarified, Rosen rated Lillith's appearance a 6 and figure shy of 7 - eye-catching beauty on Earth, but far from breathtaking perfection.

With some makeup and styling, she'd turn heads on any street, arousing boundless lust in dirty old men, yet remained distant from true enchanting beauty.

Pondering this, he concentrated briefly to open his internal archive, 'The Imperial Harem'. He located the subfolder 'Alluring Maidens' and selected a beauty with 7-rated looks and figure to paint.

With nothing else to do, Shabolai watched Rosen work. Initially amused, his interest waned into drowsiness before long, and he began nodding off.

But gradually, as the painted figure took shape - indistinct in detail yet exuding bewitching feminine charm - he jerked alert with an appreciative hiss.

Like a tall cool drink on a sweltering summer day, his spirit perked right up, and he scrutinized the canvas intently.

As time passed, the painted woman emerged from misty obscurity. She seemed to smile at him, and that vague upturn of her lips alone quickened Shabolai's pulse and set his heart aflutter like a frisky fawn.

Frank as ever, he exclaimed, "I feel like I'm meeting my unseen wife, laddie - paint faster!"

Rosen hid an internal smirk. 'Who'd have thought I'd encounter a fan of 2D girls in this otherworld.'

Another half hour later, the portrait neared completion.

Rosen wiped sweat from his brow and rinsed his stained hands in a washbasin.

Meanwhile, Shabolai stood transfixed before the painting, his leopard-like eyes fixed unblinkingly upon the subject's almond orbs, motionless as a statue.

After an endless silence, he finally spoke. "The lady's unusual garb has exotic flair."

"Just fanciful costumes I imagined from recent sights," Rosen demurred. "Don't take them literally."

Seemingly unhearing, Shabolai mused aloud, "A hint of melancholy graces her brow - does some matter trouble her heart?"

"Surely someone has wronged her, and if I discover who, I'll grind him into meat paste!"

"What name might this beauty bear?"

"Such dainty feet, each pearly toe a perfect pearl - I wonder their taste, sucked into my mouth?"

Rosen could barely endure this dichotomy - the rough warrior's words and lecherous aspect starkly clashed with his formidable image, the visual impact akin to a nuclear blast.

To spare his senses, he covered his head and shut his eyes, willing the letch away.

After some unknown duration, a tap on his shoulder interrupted his refuge. He looked up to see Shabolai crouching beside him with an ingratiating grin.

"Lad, you've brought me glad tidings of my wife, but too few. Could you relay more about her?"

Madness! This fellow had surely lost his wits.

But how to deny a master fighter?

Rosen sighed. "Your wife dwells very far away. Bringing news each time saps my strength and time."

"I understand, I understand! Name your desire, and I'll endeavor to provide!"

Just the answer Rosen wanted. "I wish to learn magic," he promptly declared.

"Eh?" Shabolai looked blank.

Rosen outlined the recent happenings, then said, "Magic seems so powerful and wondrous - I'm determined to learn it."

Shabolai's expression turned uneasy - an awkward request.

His notorious reputation repelled respectable mages, while impoverished, he couldn't hire incompetents.

But glancing at the portrait, he couldn't refuse outright. Mulling the dilemma, inspiration struck.

"You should know I hail from Silvermoon Castle whose lord, Count Omisia, is my sworn lifelong mistress."

"A grand sorceress of the moon, once our business here concludes, I'll take you to Silvermoon where you may petition the lady to instruct you in the arcane arts - how about that?"

A grand sorceress of the moon - a moon magician of such mastery to attain the grandmaster level.

The pinnacle of magical might! The mere crook of her finger could crush Selus, a glare perhaps induce madness.

A lamb herder of bandit stock - what merit had he to become the disciple of such grandeur?

Rosen deemed the prospect highly dubious. "Can that work, uncle?"

Shabolai thumped his chest with dull thuds. "Have faith, lad. The lady holds me in high esteem, and Silvermoon's a huge city, far vaster than Whitetown, with mages beyond counting."

Seeing Rosen's lingering doubt, he thumped his chest again. "By whatever means necessary, I swear to find you a proper mentor."

That seemed a tad more credible, but what truly attracted Rosen was the grand city itself. However hard, opportunities abounded in bustling metropoles.

Rosen promptly nodded. "Very well, I provide portraits, and you bring me to Silvermoon to seek a master of magic."