"Mr. Salwyn, are you home? Mr. Salwyn!"

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Clover flinched and huddled deeper into his sheets, trying his best to ignore the landlord's incessant knocking. Surely, it would just be about the rent he couldn't pay.

And surely, Clover would not have enough to pay for it yet.

'I'm saving both of us the trouble. You won't have to waste spit asking for rent that I can't pay.'

Clover covered his ears until, after what seemed like an eternity, the knocking finally stopped. Just like yesterday or the day before that, the landlord most likely assumed that Clover already left for his job.

But that, obviously, wasn't the case.

In fact, Clover didn't even have a job anymore.

He had spent too many all-nighters studying for his third attempt at the exam for battlemage applicants. And even after the written test, he had to practice actual spells for the practical aspect — but that wasn't much of a big deal since Clover had passed that part in both of his previous attempts.

It was easy for him.

Memorizing grimoires as thick as his arm? Now that was hard.

In any case, because of his late-night efforts to improve his chances of passing, he ended up being late for work a few too many times. When his boss told him in no uncertain terms that Clover didn’t have to come in the next day, Clover didn't question why, nor was he shameless enough to oppose his boss' decision.

Ultimately though, the job didn't matter.

Not even the shabby apartment he lived in after he sold all of his family's holdings to afford his mother's medicine mattered.

'If I can pass... If I can just pass the test this time... everything will work out.'

Everything would change for the better — Clover held onto this belief like his life depended on it.

'Mother... I'll definitely pass. Wait for me. We'll see each other again. We'll live a good life...'

At the thought of what was at stake in a single written exam, Clover writhed under his sheets. Eventually, he gave up on sleeping any further. He kicked off his sheets and rolled over to sit at the edge of his moth-eaten bed. Clover quickly found his glasses, put them on, and — in groggy determination — embarked on a staring contest with a somewhat strangely shaped stain on the wooden floor. When he failed to win even that, he started thinking about what to do about his grumbling stomach.

‘I don’t think I have anything on hand… Rather, I know I don’t.’

Clover wasn’t a bad cook since he had always been a well-behaved only son who helped out around the house as much as possible. But even a master chef couldn’t conjure food from out of thin air. No amount of skills could compensate for the absolute lack of ingredients in his pantry.

And so, if he wanted to sate his hunger, he’d have to eat out.

‘Money… It’s always money. Lousy fucking thing... Who the hell invented that shit!?’

Clover got up and ambled over to the pile of robes he’d thrown to the side a few days ago. His money pouch should be somewhere in that pile, and so was the wand he’d inherited from his dead father — the only memento left after the former battlemage was chewed up by a giant six-tailed ferret.

“There you are…” Of course, since he only ever had one decent pair of robes, it didn’t take him long to find his trusty wand and his very depressed wallet. He hung his wand on his belt and grasped the small pouch with both hands, as if in prayer. “Please, please, please. Please don't be completely empty...”

After peeking inside and discovering that he at least had enough money to get breakfast and even a half of light lunch, Clover heaved a deep sigh of relief. If he had to sell his last robe for a meal, he’d really go insane this time.

Still grumpy, Clover stepped in front of the mirror and tried to get his messy head of dirty blonde hair under control. Once a mere comb proved insufficient, he pulled out his wand and conjured up a ball of water.

The transparent sphere floated in the air right beside him, at the perfect height for him to easily scoop some of it up and use it to dampen his hair. Just before he finished adjusting, the conjured water vanished, dissolving back into atmospheric magic power — as all things conjured through sorcery did after a few moments.

“There. Looks decent enough.” Clover observed his face from a few angles before nonchalantly deciding he didn't have much of a choice but to roll with this face. He was born with it after all, and there was nothing he could do about it. Luckily — and in some cases, unluckily — he wasn’t the type to grow facial hair, so his face didn’t need a lot of maintenance and generally looked clean all year round.

He pushed up his glasses and put on a white shirt that he could probably still use a few more times before it started to stink, some dark brown pants with a hole in the right pocket, and a bonnet that his mother had knitted for him years ago — it was his favorite piece of clothing and, for good reason, was also the one that looked most worn out.

But he wouldn’t sell the bonnet for a hundred brand-new designer dress robes.

‘Ah. Almost forgot.’

Going out in a sorcerer’s robe for breakfast seemed excessive so he donned a thick hooded coat that reached down to his knees instead. The damned weather was as horrible as it always was and going out with only one layer was just asking to come home with a runny nose. And god forbid he got sick since he would probably try to power through it instead of buying medicine.

After patting away any dust on his coat, Clover quickly retrieved his last pair of boots and pulled them on. They were right where he’d left them by the window last night, thankfully spared from being a snack for mice. Ignoring the door a few steps away from him, Clover instead turned his attention to the window in front of him, overlooking the adjacent building’s wall. After ensuring there were no obstructions below, he leaped without hesitation.

His apartment had been on the second floor, so the fall wasn’t that high. But even if he also trained his body under his mysterious client’s orders, a fall from such a height would still hurt. Luckily, the nearby wall was close enough for him to brace against as he slowly made his descent into a dirty alley, completely bypassing the landlord’s eyes.

After quickly checking if anyone saw him being cool, Clover lowered his hood and closed his jacket, shivering as a cold wind blew past. Somehow, regardless of the season, it was always cold in the republic. And being weak to it, Clover grew to despise the very weather itself.

'Why's it so damned cold when there's literally a giant ball of fire shining down on everything twelve hours a day?'

Clover’s steps eventually brought him to an out-of-the-way store that didn’t even look like it served food. But for locals with tight budgets like him, this place was single-handedly responsible for his survival. When he saw the sign flipped to show the crude drawing of a smiling cat, he couldn't resist a smile as well.

'Good, it’s open.'

Seeking refuge from the cold, Clover quickly ducked inside the shop, putting on a mask of indifference as instructed by his client. A quick scan of his surroundings told him that a number of patrons were already leaning over their humble meals, and Clover found that he could recognize them all.

In fact, he used to share conversations with them until a few years ago. But because of his client’s orders, Clover had to maintain his distance from everybody he knew and act like a somber and reclusive sorcerer — not that doing such a thing was all that hard, seeing as Clover was focused on exam preparations.

A number of the patrons noticed him come in and briefly nodded to him when their eyes met. But they didn’t try to talk to him like they used to, accustomed to how Clover had changed — to how he was ordered to change.

“Oh! Clover! Early breakfast? The usual?”

There were always exceptions, of course.

Clover sat down at his usual spot at the counter and nodded in response to the familiar voice. Although the customers didn’t converse with him, the ginger-haired waitress certainly couldn’t do her job without doing so.

“Thanks, Ellin.” Clover tried very hard not to grin stupidly when the charming young lady two years younger than him asked him with a cheerful smile. Maintaining an impassive expression, he held out a few coins to her. “Just enough for this, please.”

“Sure thing, coming right up.” Ellin chirped before she took the coins and deposited them in a pocket on her apron. With a bit of a spring in her step despite the early morning, she dipped into the kitchen and came out a few moments later with a tray in hand. “Enjoy!”

“Thanks.” Clover dipped his head and took off his bonnet as he looked down at his meager meal. A large bowl of hot soup with a few pieces of meat and vegetables floating within, a few sticks of bread, a small clump of butter, and a handful of fresh berries.

One would not have called it a meager meal that a few coins could buy — but that was also because it was significantly more than what he’d paid for.

“Uhm…” Clover looked up only to see Ellin smiling mischievously at him.

“Shh.” She winked and put a finger to her lips before taking a seat right next to him. “How’s the exam? Do you think you passed this time?”

Clover felt ashamed at being pitied, but at this point, his pride was so nonexistent that her mercy made him want to cry with relief. He nodded and tried to hide his feelings. “Yes… Well, I’m confident about the practical portion since I’ve passed those before, but the written one was a bit… rough. I studied my hardest though, so I'd like to think I did well enough to pass.”

“You’ll get it this time. I’m sure of it!” Ellin placed a hand that he knew was both soft and rough from a life of work. She leaned her head on the counter and looked up at him with her enchanting brown eyes. “I believe in you. Always did.”

Feeling a lump in his throat, Clover wet his dry lips and smiled a little. “Thanks.”

Since Ellin said nothing else after that, Clover began putting away his meal. There were significantly more vegetables in his soup and even meat he didn’t pay for. Having butter to spread on his bread was a small luxury too, and the sweetness of the berries seemed to blow some of his fatigue away.

“Good?” Ellin asked after he finished everything, even his cup of water. She hadn’t left and actually stayed around to watch him eat.

“Yes.” It didn’t make him uncomfortable though. He knew from experience that she just found it intriguing to watch people eat and he’d grown used to it.

Luckily, no other customers came in while Clover ate, and he was a fast eater so he finished earlier than everyone else who came before him. Which was good, since she didn’t have to be scolded by her mother for slacking off.

‘Good times…’

Clover briefly reminisced about old times — back in the days when his mother was still here. His and Ellin’s mothers got along very well, so it made sense that Clover and Ellin grew closer too.

Perhaps, if things had gone differently, Clover and Ellin would have a far deeper relationship than people who live in the same neighborhood now. Maybe that time in his life when they snuck away in the night would have turned into something more.

But things hadn’t gone differently.

Clover’s mother was always frail, but her condition suddenly worsened and no medicine seemed to cure her. He also failed to get into the Spirit Tower, which may have allowed him to form connections with people who could help him find a cure. And while he was in despair, a mysterious organization offered to solve all his problems. Now, Clover was laboring to fulfill all their mysterious demands, hiding his true self and cutting off his connection with everybody.

“Thanks for the meal.”

The bitterness in Clover’s mouth blew away the sweetness of the berries he’d just eaten. He stood up and walked out of the store, consoling himself.

‘This is the path I chose.’

If he’d just studied for the first time instead of fooling around with Ellin.

If he hadn’t sold off all the properties that his father left behind — properties his old man left behind so he and his mother would still have a livelihood even if his father died.

If he’d just accepted his unfortunate lot in life and rejected the hand that was offered to him…

Perhaps he would’ve been halfway into becoming a respected battlemage instead of being unemployed.

Perhaps he wouldn’t have any worries about money instead of living so frugally, not knowing when his next meal was.

Perhaps he would already be married and with a child of his own instead of living alone in some shabby apartment.

But that wasn’t the life he’d chosen. It wasn’t the reality his actions manifested. Fate and chance may have contributed to misfortune but Clover would not blame those. He knew that the current state of his life was mostly because of his own decisions.

And Clover had no choice but to accept that, all while trying hard to carve out a piece of happiness for himself and his loved ones.

“Clover!”

Pausing his steps, Clover glanced behind him. While wallowing in his own thoughts, he’d walked quite far from the restaurant, but Ellin had still chased after him. “What are you doing here…?”

“I…” Ellin panted as she jogged the rest of the way, bending over and wheezing when she finally caught up. “Give me a second… I'm dying here...”

“Why'd you run so fast, anyway... Idiot.” Clover shook his head in exasperation. His gaze briefly scanned her face before falling to her rapidly heaving chest.

Memories of the softness he knew lay underneath her clothes surface, but he beat them down, noticing her lack of layers despite the chilly air.

“It’s cold. You should’ve worn a jacket…” Clover sighed at her characteristic recklessness, pulling out his wand and casting a simple spell that caused the nearby temperature to rise. There were laws against sorcery on the streets, but nobody seemed to be around to notice or care. And if his doubts about his client's origins were correct, then Clover had already betrayed his homeland.

Breaking a few more laws wouldn't hurt.

“So warm... Thanks.” Ellin patted his chest with a smile. “Being a sorcerer comes in handy sometimes, huh?”

Clover looked into her pretty brown eyes and felt old wounds resurface, so he cut to the chase. “Why are you here?”

“Because you’re here. And I wanted to talk.” She then pointed at a nearby bench with a tilt of her head. “Let’s sit down over there, okay?”

The urge to nod and agree wasn't so easily resisted, but Clover managed to do so anyway. With a shake of his head, he spoke with finality. “No. Let’s make this quick, I’m busy.”

Ellin bit her lip in hesitation for a few moments before sighing. “Clover.”

“Yes…?”

“Someone asked me to marry them.”

Clover’s shoulders jumped and his heart sank.

To be honest, he had been dreading the day when it happened. Ellin possessed both a charming face and a good figure. She excelled at cooking and was proficient in all household tasks. Regarding her personality, a few interactions were enough to convince most men that she would be the perfect choice to build a family with.

If Clover were being honest, a woman like her was wasted in a dump town like this. That's why it wasn’t so strange for someone to take a fancy to her. In reality, he knew many young men had already thrown their hats in the ring.

And yet, she had never felt the need to announce it to him like this, even when they were secretly dating at the time.

‘Which means it’s a serious offer that she’s actually considering…’

Clover tried not to show any emotion on his face. Logically, he knew that he had no right to be upset or even feel betrayed. There may have been something between them in the past, but now, they were just a man and a woman who were a bit more than acquaintances.

‘This… This is the life I chose…’

With a deep breath, Clover forced a smile — breaking his orders to remain impassive. “I see. When is... the wedding?”

Ellin gazed at him, her hands held behind her back. “I haven’t given him an answer yet.”

“Is that so…" Clover found himself sighing in relief. "Why? Do you... Uhm. Do you not love him?”

“Love, huh…” Ellin seemed to mull over the words for a moment before smiling awkwardly. “He’s very persistent but he seems nice enough. He also told me that he owned a large manor in the Principality of Lawada.”

“The Principality of Lawada…”

Clover frowned in thought. There were no principalities in the Sentorale Continent, just a kingdom, an empire, and a republic. So that meant one thing.

“Pentagoria?”

Ellin nodded. "We have to take a ship across the bottomless sea. But he said that if I agreed to come live with him, he’d pay for a really secure ship from the Star of Fortune. And that I could take my parents with me too.”

“I see…”

“But if you ask me if I love him…” Ellin stepped forward and suddenly took his hand, holding it tightly as if to say she wouldn’t let him go. “Then I think you know my answer.”

“Ellin…” Clover looked down at their joined fingers and felt the warmth between their palms.

“Clover… You don’t have to be a battlemage to be happy.” She cut him off and leaned her head against his chest. The pleasant smell of her hair wafted into his nose and awoke memories of the past. “We can be happy together too. My mother’s getting on in years, so I’ll take her place in the kitchen. You can surely get another job charging mana dynamos or even tutoring aspiring sorcerers.”

“Ellin, I…”

“We can get married, then have a few kids. Or a lot. However much you want. I’ll try to be the best wife I can be, failing here and there but getting better over time. We’ll grow old together while taking care of our children, supporting their dreams, and eventually watching them have kids of their own… Doesn’t that sound nice? You don’t have to beat yourself up over your mother’s death, Clover. You don’t have to be alone. You don’t have to push me away…”

Clover bit his lip. His mother wasn’t dead. She was somewhere out there, being cured and hopefully being taken care of. As for his choice to cut off everyone around him, sure that was specified by his client, but Clover felt responsible for agreeing.

But it wasn’t like he could just tell her that. He couldn’t tell anyone.

“Ellin…” Clover held her delicate shoulders and lightly pushed her away. “I’m sorry. And about your marriage… I hope it all goes well. Have a... Have a safe trip.”

For what felt like an eternity, she looked up and stared right into her eyes, and it was all he could do not to look away. But before long, she seemed to have made peace with something and nodded with a sigh.

“Alright, Clover. I’ll… I’ll wait a little longer.” Ellin turned around and slowly walked off. “You know where to find me if you change your mind.”

“Ellin, you don’t have to—”

“I said I’ll wait,” she said firmly, in a tone that brooked no argument. "See you later. I hope you pass your exam..."

Clover watched her disappear behind a corner, suddenly feeling much more depressed than when he’d awoken. When his spell wore off and the chilling wind blew on his face, he unconsciously clenched his fist and looked at his feet.

‘This… This is the path I chose…’

He sighed, turned around, and made his way back to his crappy apartment.

‘And so this is the life I will live.’

 

---

 

With the test far behind him, Clover no longer had a reason to diligently study and practice the intricacies of sorcery. And after his little episode with Ellin, he was also in no mood to find a way to feed himself tomorrow or get back into his apartment the sneaky way.

That’s why it was perfectly normal for the landlord to see him on his way up to his shabby dwelling.

“Ah! There you are, Mr. Salwyn!” The thin and elderly landowner ambled up to him with the aid of a walking stick. “You're a hard man to find, Mr. Salwyn. I've been trying to catch you for a chat, but I never seem to find you! Haha!”

“My apologies, Mr. Dabino. I’ve been busy with various things, you see.” Clover, stone-faced and completely unapologetic, uttered the words he’d grown used to saying when someone asked why he’d been avoiding them. “If it’s about the rent, my apologies, but I really don’t have anything right now. If you could just wait for a few days, I should receive enough from my father’s pension to settle all my dues…”

“Hm? Oh! Ohhh… right. The rent. Almost forgot about that…”

“Excuse me? You say you forgot? Rent? You forgot?”

“Never mind the damned rent for now, boy.” Mr. Dabino motioned for Clover to come closer while pulling out an expensive-looking envelope. “A battlemage came by to give this to you!”

Clover took the letter and immediately recognized it as the test results. He’d received them on two numerous occasions, so he was familiar with it. But something about what the old man said got his atention.

“Wait, a battlemage delivered it themself?" Clover asked with a frown. "How are you so sure?”

‘Last time, a plain old courier brought it…’

And that was when it clicked.

Clover started to understand why his landlord, who had also seen the same letter the past two times, was acting like rent was something that could be forgotten.

“I’m sure, I’m sure!” Mr. Dabino patted him on the shoulder as if they’d been the best of friends from the very start. “Had these fancy dark purple robes and everything! She even showed some kind of badge as extra proof! It glowed!”

“I-I see…” Clover found it hard to control his excitement and maintain a stony face, but he somehow managed to do so out of pure habit. “Well, I’ll check this upstairs then. Mr. Dabino, as for the rent…”

“Oh, there’s no need for that.” The landowner chuckled good-naturedly. “Go on up. I’ll waive your unpaid rent in celebration of your success… I always knew you had it in you. Just like your dad.”

‘Asshole. That sure isn’t what you say when you’re drunk and you think I’m not around.’

Clover nodded and brushed off his landlord's additional attempts to mend whatever positive relationship remained between them. He couldn't forget how the old scoundrel had cut off the water and mana supply to his apartment after just a single week of delayed payment.

The moment Clover got to his apartment, he shut the door and kicked off his boots before running to his bed. Chairs were for people rich enough to have more than one piece of good furniture, so he sat at the edge of his bed like usual, not even bothering to take off his coat.

“This is it…” Clover excitedly stared at the envelope in his hands.

The fact that an actual battlemage delivered it boded well for his chances, but he’d experienced many disappointments in life — he couldn’t be blamed for entertaining the horrifying possibility that the landowner had lied to him for some twisted reason. It also crossed his mind that a battlemage might have volunteered to deliver the letter, the destination being conveniently close or en route to where they were actually going.

Once the possibility of failure crossed his mind, it took root in his brain and grew larger and larger until he could no longer muster the will to open the letter.

‘If I fail…’

Clover tried to gulp down a mouthful of saliva, but he found that his mouth was unusually dry. The hands holding what might have been his death sentence trembled uncontrollably and his breathing grew so rough that his panting might have disturbed his neighbors.

‘I’ll never see my mother again…’

His client and the agents working for them didn’t threaten him — they never did. All they did was remind him of the benefits that doing well and staying obedient could bring. In fact, even if they were a bit shady and their orders were strict, Clover couldn’t hate them because they normally didn't bother his everyday life and let him do things his way.

But at the same time, he wasn’t exactly sure what they would do once he did fail.

Not allowing him to see his mother anymore may have been a relatively tame punishment. They might just send her back to him in a barrel as an unrecognizable mound of flesh and blood. Or her severed body parts might be delivered to his doorway one by one — a different part of her arriving with each day.

The thought that both his and his mother's fates hinged on his performance gnawed at him.

He had tried his absolute best. Everything he could possibly do while fulfilling his client’s orders and working to sustain himself, he did.

Clover had practically squeezed out every single drop of effort and potential to pass that godforsaken exam.

If he still failed, then he never had a chance of passing in the first place.

If he still failed, he would probably kill himself too. With that, Clover hoped his client wouldn’t have to vent their anger at anyone else anymore.

‘Let’s… Let’s get this over with.’

For some reason, the determination to end his own life as a form of taking responsibility for his failure gave him the courage to read the letter’s contents.

Clover’s fingers looked as if they were under constant electrocution from how much they shook, but he was still able to rip open the expensive-looking envelope and pull out the letter inside. The paper’s relative firmness was familiar to him and one touch was enough for him to confirm that this letter was, in fact, from the government.

‘Let’s get… Fuck. I feel like I'm going die, but let's get this over with.’

Taking a moment to close his eyes and take a few deep breaths, Clover suddenly flipped the letter open before hesitation and self-doubt could dull his actions yet again. Then he quickly opened his eyes and tried not to blink, forcing them to stay open until he reached a conclusion to all of this.

‘Good tidings, Mr. Salwyn, yadda yadda yadda… The cold winds bring warm news, yadda yadda yadda…’

His eyes started straining under the effort of keeping them open. But he didn’t have to keep them that way for too long, as he reached a part that caused him to doubt if he was actually dreaming.

‘It is with pleasure that we… invite you into our order.’

“This is… an acceptance, right?” Clover spoke to nobody in particular, unable to believe what he’d just read. As someone who’d never passed the exam, he obviously didn’t know what a positive response looked like. But the letter in his hands looked positive enough, at least. “I passed…”

It was only after rereading the letter three more times that it finally dawned on him that he’d succeeded. Clover bolted up, feeling an overwhelming urge to start kicking things in his stupid lousy apartment. He also really wanted to run around and thank everyone who helped him while cussing out everyone who kept putting him down, saying he should have given up after failing twice.

“I passed…”

But instead of kicking things, thanking people, or cussing out some shitheads, Clover’s knees buckled in relief instead. He fell on his ass but fortunately landed right back into bed. Feeling lightheaded, he let himself fall prone into his trashy mattress' somewhat soft embrace, his feet dangling off the edge of the bed.

“I finally passed the exam.”

Clover stared into his stain-filled ceiling while repeating his success to himself. If this was a dream, perhaps it would be in his favor if he never woke up.

‘I… can’t waste time here. I need to tell them.’

After what was the greatest news of the past few years, Clover’s happiness quickly dissipated. Passing the exam and following his father’s footsteps to become a battlemage wasn’t his end goal — at least, not anymore.

Clover got out of bed with a solemn countenance. He then placed the letter back into its envelope before depositing it into his coat’s inner pocket. Suddenly feeling sentimental, he scanned his shabby apartment and briefly recalled the past few months, which were all filled with loneliness and mind-numbing hard work.

‘It’s… It’s over now.’

With a deep sigh, Clover headed for the door.

 

---

 

Clover strode through a crowded street with his hood lowered before suddenly ducking into a side alley. It was just before noon, so shadows obscured the clandestine path instead of total darkness. He would usually wait until nightfall before trying to meet up with his client's people, but this time, Clover really wanted to deliver the news as fast as possible.

With familiarity, Clover navigated the winding alleys until he reached a dead end. Looking around, one could see all manner of garbage strewn on the ground, but some of the garbage wasn’t actually trash.

“... Found it.” Clover spotted a few oddly-shaped bottles that looked nothing like what was normally sold in the republic. He bent over and picked them all up before lining them up like dominoes. Once he was done, he stood up and nudged one with his foot, causing the bottles to fall over one by one.

Somehow, despite the bottles sharing similar looks and sizes, they produced a soft melody as they struck each other one by one. He was always so tense in the past, so he could never appreciate it, but now that there was no reason for him to hesitate, he spent a moment replaying the tune in his mind.

“Oi.”

‘That was quick. They're already here?’

Clover turned around only to be surprised that there were three hooded men instead of one. All of them were pointing knives at him too. He didn’t know why they were doing that, but maybe this was all a misunderstanding, so he lowered his hood and showed his face. “Wait, wait. It’s me, Clover.”

His words apparently surprised the men since they shared a few confused looks with each other before the middle one spoke up. “We don’t give a shit about your name, boy. Hand over everything you’ve got and buzz off.”

"...What?" Confusion clouded Clover's head. But after a moment of thought, understanding dawned on him, and he slapped his forehead in exasperation. “Wait, so you’re muggers.”

“What’s it look like, you idiot.” Another thug sneered. "Less yapping, more begging. Take out everything you have. Actually, I'm feeling up for a new coat, so leave that behind too."

‘I’ve never been mugged at night, but here I am, getting mugged in the middle of the day instead.’

“Trust me, any one of you's probably richer than me.” Clover chuckled in exasperation and shooed them away. “Fuck off, you cunts. I’m busy.”

The last of the muggers chose to speak up at that moment, his voice surprisingly deep despite his size. “Busy playing with bottles? What the fuck’re you doing, anyway?”

Clover’s face heated up at being witnessed, but he chose to ignore the shame and move his coat ever so slightly so the wand hanging from his belt was visible. “You idiots get one more chance before this turns ugly.”

A second later, all three thugs stiffened before they bolted without another word. Even if only battlemages were legally allowed to learn military-grade sorcery, the spells an academy graduate like him could cast still made him a god compared to ordinary thugs like them. And whether the thugs knew or not, they quickly ran off without another word.

Contemplating whether to shoot their asses with a harmless spell to teach them a lesson, Clover gave his wand a soft stroke to make sure it was still securely hanging from his waist before he suddenly realized that there was a hand on his shoulder.

“Good morning, Mr. Salwyn.”

“...Yes, good morning, Mr. Hound.” Clover nodded and the hand freed him, causing him to sigh in relief. He turned around and met a familiar sight.

In a spot that had nobody there a minute ago, stood a tall man wearing an all-black attire and a metal mask that resembled an emotionless man’s face. A dangerous aura emanated from him and Clover’s instincts warned him not to fuck around and find out what would happen if they tried to fight.

“Are you the one I talked to a while back?” Clover asked just to make sure. Mr. Hound was not just one person after all.

They were all referred to as hounds and weren’t allowed to give him their names. Their voices were also obscured by the masks they all wore. So for convenience, he started calling whoever he was meeting “Mr. Hound” or "Ms. Hound" instead.

The current Mr. Hound shook his head. “We’ve never met. But I have been briefed about all prior conversations.”

“Okay...” Clover nodded in understanding as he reached into his coat — only to stop when he realized that the man in front of him might mistake his actions as hostile. That was the last thing that Clover wanted, so he raised both hands in the air and recounted the good news instead. “I received a letter from the state. I’ve passed the exam and am to report to the capital for the final interview. I know about that interview, it’s just a formality. So I’ve all but succeeded in getting into the Spirit Tower. I've also been maintaining as much distance from everybody and acting like a reclusive anti-social loner like you asked.”

“I see." Mr. Hound held out a hand. "Show me the letter.”

With permission, Clover pulled out the envelope and handed it over.

“Hm…” Mr. Hound took out the letter and gave it a once over before nodding. “This seems legitimate. Congratulations, Mr. Salwyn.”

Clover nodded nervously. “Yes, thank you… So, about my mother…”

“Ah, yes. You must be curious.” The masked man grunted in understanding before seemingly conjuring a sheaf of papers. “My master’s master has tasked me to give this to you in case you succeed.”

“This is…?”

“It is a very long letter from your mother.”

Clover hastily snatched it away despite the risk of seeming rude. His eyes ran through the words on the page and immediately recognized the familiar penmanship. Joy filled his heart at the confirmation that his client hadn’t been stringing him along and killed his mother a long time ago.

As he read on, Clover felt the weight of his mother’s concern and longing with every line. His grip on the letter tightened when he reached the part where his mother confirmed that she felt completely hale and healthy — her previous maladies a thing of the past.

She had even started a gardening hobby to busy herself since she hadn't been allowed outside until a few days before writing the letter. Of course, she was apparently treated very well even while confined.

Although she wanted to tell him about more things, she apparently couldn't divulge things that would risk revealing her location. With the hope, she wrote that she would tell him more about what she'd been up to once they reunited.

All in all, the letter confirmed that Clover's mother ate well, she slept well, and she was dressed in warm clothes.

‘She’s… doing really well.’

That alone made the past two years of loneliness worth every second. Somehow, Clover managed to have her live the kind of life she wanted for him — a normal life filled with simple happiness.

Clover protectively held the stack of papers away from him so he wouldn’t accidentally get any tears on it. Then he hastily rolled it all up and placed it in his inner coat pocket in case it suddenly rained.

“Mr. Salwyn.”

“Yes... Yes, sir.” Clover looked up, deep into the dark slats of the man’s mask. The letter had extinguished the underlying anxiety of wondering if he was being tricked. Now that he knew his mother had really been cured and was living well, Clover truly knew that regardless of what he'd given up on, he had chosen the correct path. And he was prepared to sprint or hop down the road if that was what his client wanted.

“Do not let your guard down.” Mr. Hound rumbled. “You've made it past the hardest part. It would be a shame if you manage to mess things up due to negligence at this point.”

Clover lowered his head and bowed. “Understood. I’ll pack my bags and make my way to the capital as soon as possible. I don’t have much in the way of personal effects, so it won’t take me long.”

“You don’t seem to have enough money for a train ticket to the capital. Do you perhaps intend to walk there?”

“That’s…” Clover bit his lip. His hometown was near the western edge of the country, so it would take a good month or two to ride to the capital — even more if he walked there. He racked his head for a solution and was instantly struck with inspiration. “My apartment’s security deposit. I can use part of it to settle what rent I haven’t paid yet, while I can use the rest for anything else I might need.”

"I recall that your landlord said he would waive your dues."

Clover's spine chilled at the implications behind the man's words. But he now intended to live and die with these mysterious people, so he gulped down his anxiety and replied. "I don't want to leave behind unpaid debts. I may be a poor man, but my mother taught me that all debts must be repaid. I live and die by my word, sir."

Seemingly satisfied, the masked man nodded. “Good. You don’t need to leave immediately. Set your affairs in order and…” Mr. Hound scanned him up and down. “Perhaps buy some new clothes. Or wash the ones you’re wearing.”

Clover could do nothing but hang his head in embarrassment.

“Go. I shall report your success to my master.”

“Yes, understood. Please inform them of my success in detail. Tell them that I will cooperate with all my heart and soul.” Clover nodded and even felt the compulsion to clap his hands and cheer, but he resisted the urge. “Well then, if you'll excuse me…”

Leaving the masked man behind, Clover turned around and made to leave the alley through the way he came. His steps were much lighter than when he arrived, and he even felt like giving his landlord a little kiss on the cheek.

‘Better not do that. I have to maintain an outward profile of reclusiveness and impassivity.’

“Mr. Salwyn.”

“...Huh?” Clover stopped in his tracks and turned back to the masked man, who still hadn’t vanished like hounds usually did when their conversation ended. “Was there something else, sir?”

Mr. Hound seemed to hesitate for a moment before he spoke. “That girl. Ellin, was her name?”

“Yes?” Clover was momentarily surprised but when he heard the masked man’s next words, he blanched.

“She might be in danger.”

“What? What are you—”

“The man who is pursuing her romantically. The one who says he has a manor in Lawada.”

Clover gulped, quickly realizing that Mr. Hound wasn’t joking. “What about him?”

“He is a scam artist who works for a criminal syndicate. They frequently lure gullible and attractive young women by promising them a better life overseas. In truth, the women will be restrained once the ship gets far enough out to sea and then hauled over to a hidden base to be trained as high-quality sex slaves or prostitutes.”

“What the fuck…”

“As for any family members, the women will never see them again. Their family will be used as hostages to keep them obedient, long after those family members have already been sold into slavery or killed.”

Clover clenched his fist. Even if he’d ultimately rejected Ellin out of necessity and felt unworthy of her affection, that didn’t mean he would just leave her to such a terrible fate.

“Calm down. The syndicate is a business rival, which is why we’ve been collecting information on them so thoroughly. My master is personally coming to eradicate them since they even dared to touch some of our employees. We want to take them all out in one fell swoop, so we're thoroughly tracking down all their bases before striking. Your woman is in no danger as long as she doesn't go with the man within the next month or two.”

“I see…” Clover unclenched his fist and realized how hard he’d been gripping when he felt warm blood on his palm. That was when he realized something about what the man had just said. “Ellin’s… Uhm, she's not my woman, by the way”

“That does not seem to be what she thinks.” Mr. Hound shrugged. “But even if what you say is true, she is important to you, no?”

“...Yes. Very.”

“And this incident has just revealed how easily she can be put in danger when you aren’t looking.”

Clover’s shoulders jumped. “That’s… Even if that’s the case, it’s not like I can just take her with me wherever I’m going… Especially when I'm not exactly sure that is.”

Mr. Hound seemingly contemplated in silence for a few seconds before he sighed in reluctant acceptance. “Tell no one that we spoke of this."

"Yes...?"

"My master tells me of his master’s benevolence.”

“Your master’s master…?”

“Yes. You will likely meet him in the capital. Do not think as if just passing the exam is the end of his demands. If you show him how earnest you are in serving him, perhaps he’ll allow you to take that woman with you. And her family as well.”

“That’s…”

‘That’s way too good to be true.’

Real life had beaten reality into Clover, so he knew that when something was too good to be true, it was.

A happy ending where he would reunite with his mother — who was perfectly healthy — and be together with the love of his life?

Bullshit.

“Again, tell no one that we talked about any of this. What I’ve told you isn’t necessarily a secret, but it will not reflect well on me if my master comes to know of my... talkativeness.”

Clover looked up to the masked man with a sheepish smile. “Well, out of all the hounds I’ve met, you are the most talkative.”

“Bah.” Mr. Hound waved his hand dismissively before turning around. “Always remember. Work well and be rewarded well. That is how it works for us, at least. Very soon, you will find that gaining my master’s attention, and subsequently his master's attention, was the greatest fortune of your life. For now, get your affairs in order. Clear things up with your woman and tell her you might someday take her and her family away. If you doubt whether something is a secret or not, then assume it is and don't tell anyone about it. Understood?”

“Yes. Thank you very much.”

“Whatever. With any luck, we’ll never see each other again. So consider this information a farewell gift. Live well, boy.”

Not waiting for Clover’s reply, Mr. Hound bounded up the tall buildings in a single leap and started running atop the rooftops.

“I…”

Clover gazed into the sky, still in a daze. The weather was just as horrible as it always was. But somehow, the clouds looked much more beautiful in his eyes. It had been a long time since he’d truly smiled, but doing so right now was so easy.

“This is the path I chose…”

‘And now I’m sure it’s the right one.’

The perfect life where he got everything he wanted was so close he could feel it on his skin in the form of a warm gust of wind.