‘Are you fucking kidding me...? Will it activate when I…’

Although Clover didn’t know exactly what his mysterious client wanted from him, he had some ideas. And all those ideas involved them obtaining information about the tower and battlemages in general.

So if Clover went through and cooperated with the plan after pledging to this oath, then wouldn’t his life be in danger? He had never heard of any battlemages dying from their oaths laying claim to their lives, but ironically, knowing nothing scared Clover much more.

His breath hitched on his throat but Clover finally managed to gather the courage. It didn't take him long to realize that he was too far deep into this endeavor to get cold feet now. Additionally, if he even tried to back out of the oath at this point, such an act would be suspicious enough for the Ascendant in front of him to take his life as a precaution.

And there was absolutely no way he could fight back against Elder Dalamar — the Silver Cloak.

“I..." Clover took a deep breath and then heaved a weary sigh. "I swear it on my name.”

“Very good.”

Dalamar’s congenial smile returned as he tapped the top part of the bloody eye, all the runes on his wand aglow. “And so he swears. The oath has been taken. May it never be broken.”

The fragment of the watcher closed its only eye before its entire body started squirming, the crimson fluid gradually destabilizing as it lost its form. Once the eye no longer looked like an eye, the blood and embers surged back into his palm. Surprisingly, there were no wounds even though so much blood left Clover's body for a time, and he could feel something boiling hot taking root in his arm.

“Congratulations, Mr. Salwyn.” Dalamar finally withdrew his hand, freeing Clover from his grasp. “With the oath sealed, you are now an official battlemage. Well, a trainee, but still.”

Clover’s knees shook and he almost buckled, but he nodded all the same. “Thank you, Elder…”

"No need to thank me. All of this was a result of your own actions. Stand proud, young man." The old mage walked reached over and shook Clover's hand, even giving him an encouraging pat on the arm. "Oh, and I referred to us as battlemages, but that's just a name that the common populace came up with over time. We did, after all, perform quite a lot of battling."

"Really?" Clover raised a brow, not really doubtful, but rather, surprised at such a thing.

But when he really thought about it, none of the letters he'd received even mentioned the word battlemage. Not even the letter of acceptance that had changed his life. The letters had only ever said that he was not eligible to "join their ranks" or that he was welcomed into their "order".

'Huh. That's a bit... disorienting. I always thought that was what they were called... But I guess even Father never used the term to refer to himself back when he was still alive.'

Dalamar smiled and even his eyes seemed to narrow in mischief. "According to the Sage King himself, practitioners of what is known as sorcery are the Kuram."

"The wha—ugh!" Clover groaned, his face contorting into a grimace as his body was seized by an overwhelming discomfort that seemed to twist his very bones.

A shiver raced down his spine — as if an icy hand brushed past every inch of his skin — and a sensation akin to countless tiny spiders crawling all over his body sent waves of dread through his mind. And he may have been hallucinating because he could actually see countless tiny spiders crawling all over him, seemingly having appeared from out of nowhere. By gripping the edges of the table for dear life, Clover barely managed to avoid falling out of his chair at the shock and disgust, resisting the urge to writhe on the floor or roll around to make a futile attempt at killing all of the creatures.

It was only after an indeterminate amount of time did the sensation finally vanish. However, the dread filling every fiber of his being had yet to disperse.

Feeling extremely lethargic, Clover's rough breath echoed through his ears as he checked his body for the spiders that would probably haunt his dreams for weeks.

"Interesting," Dalamar commented, the earlier smirk still on his wrinkled face. He observed Clover with undisguised curiosity. "It seems to affect you more than most, Mr. Salwyn. Rejoice. This is a very good thing."

"Is... Is that so...?" Clover rasped, his voice strained with the effort to mask his unease. The goosebumps all over his body remained, while his rapidly beating heart had yet to calm down. "I'm having trouble believing that..."

The old sorcerer chuckled. "I'm sure you are. Don't worry, it's particularly bad the first time around. You'll get used to it."

"Do I have to...?"

"Unfortunately, I'm afraid so."

Clover bit the corner of his lips, trying to recall his mother's face so he could muster the will to carry on. "I see. I suppose I'll have to, then."

"Indeed." Dalamar nodded sagely before suddenly saying "Kuram." once again, chuckling in delight as Clover winced once more — though much less intensely this time. "Fascinating, isn't it? The power that mere words hold over us? And yet, we don't even incorporate speech or incantations in our magic. Even I wonder why, sometimes."

"What... What was that? The thing you just said, Elder."

"A cursed word." Dalamar shrugged, as if what he'd just said and its implications were of no importance. "You have to know what it means for it to be a curse though. A normal person, completely clueless about what the word meant or what it represented, can say it thousands of times or even stumble upon it. But nothing would ever happen.”

Clover frowned. He had never heard or read about something like that, nor could he fathom that such a thing was even possible.

“That said, if we tell people that we are called that, then they will know. Or at least, they'll know enough for the curse to take effect. And suddenly, you hand a weapon over to every single person in the country — a weapon that is particularly effective on talented sorcerers."

"A curse..." Clover gulped in apprehension, but the sorcerer within him stirred at the notion of unknown power. He couldn’t stop himself from voicing his curiosity. “Does saying that have a cost? Mana, vitality, lifespan, perhaps?”

Dalamar shook his head. “Nothing. If you don’t count the discomfort the speaker is inflicted with, that is.”

“That’s… incredible.”

Clover couldn’t think of any other word to describe it. The fact that even an ordinary person could disable a battlemage or a knight for any amount of time could only be said as incredible.

“Mind you,” Dalamar added with a chuckle. “It barely affects those who have gone beyond mortality. So don’t go thinking you can run to the kingdom or empire and challenge their most powerful warriors.”

“I wouldn’t even think of such a thing,” Clover hastily replied.

"Oh, I know, I know. In any case, that, young man, is why members of our order don't just say what we truly are willy-nilly. Those who use the mystic arts passed down by the Sage King will have to settle with the title of sorcerer. And members of our order will have to settle with the totally unimaginative title of battlemage. Some prefer assault mage or attack mage, but it's all the same. Those titles aren't what we truly are. They work well as placeholders though."

"I see..."

"Interesting, isn't it? Well, I won't talk about it too much here. You'll find out all about it as you advance your studies in the Tower. All of our secrets will be revealed there."

"...Understood, Elder."

Clover lowered his head, feeling slightly regretful. After all, if what he thought his client intended to do succeeded, then it meant that Clover would never get to satisfy this particular curiosity.

Dalamar hummed, seemingly in a good mood as he continued in a lighter tone. “Oh, and now that you have been officially inducted, you are now a brother in our order. So take note that your fellow trainees, and of course, even other official battlemages, are your brothers and sisters. Of course, you can still refer to people like me as Elder, but we are still siblings in nature."

"That seems..."

"Somewhat confusing? Yes. I felt the same way, back in the day. Believe me, it took me a while to get used to it as well."

Clover nodded along, not really knowing how to respond.

"Finally…" Dalamar slapped the table, apparently feeling quite talkative. "I'm obligated to clarify that you are free to retire at any point in your career. The republic is a land of freedom, after all, and the path of knowledge is to be walked willingly. Part of your first oath entails that you must surrender all the resources that we provide you — other than your wages and what you bought with them, of course — so you'll have to do that before you quit, but other than that, we won't chase after you if you think that you've had enough of this lifestyle."

"Really? That’s quite… nice." Clover smiled sheepishly, unable to find a word to describe his complicated feelings on the matter.

"I'm glad you think so, Brother Salwyn. Now, I won’t bother discussing wages, insurance, and pensions since those are already in the documents I gave you and are hopelessly boring. In any case, since the oath-taking is over, all that’s left is for you to head on over to the city of Vel Ayala just before summer begins. That would make it… about a month from now, I believe.”

“B-before summer, Elder…?” Clover looked up, his eyes wide with disbelief. What was he supposed to do until then? While he managed to stumble upon a small fortune, it certainly wasn’t enough money to camp out in a hotel for an entire month.

“Ah… I recall reading a note about how you’ve met with some financial difficulties. Is that still the case?”

“Y-yes, Elder… Although I’m ashamed to admit it.”

“Not at all, not at all…” Dalamar chuckled in good faith. “My grandfather was in a similar situation back in his youth. An orphan with nobody to support him. He studied magic while taking every chance he could get to earn money. Yet, now he is a respected Ascendent, just like his son and grandson.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Those who seek eternity and the heights of power don’t have to look down on their past. Accept it, and make it a part of you. There is no need to be ashamed, young man.”

Clover bit his lip and lowered his head. “Thank you, Elder.”

“Hm. Yes, yes. Some seeds need to be buried deeper into the ground to truly flourish, as they say.“ Dalamar quoted someone Clover didn’t know, smiling warmly all the while. “Perhaps you are just one of them, Brother Salwyn.”

‘That doesn’t really make me feel any better, but I suppose I should feel thankful that this old man feels pity for me.’

At the very least, it didn’t seem as if Clover had been exposed as a potential information leak.

Dalamar rubbed his lower lip in thought before adding in a light tone. “If you are worried about food and lodging until the appointed time, then you can simply head to Vel Ayala in advance. Your training hasn’t begun yet, but you are still an official battlemage. The Spirit Tower will welcome you. Naturally, you won’t have access to the Tower’s archives yet, but you can at least take the time to get used to the environment.”

“I-I see…”

“Yes. No need to worry.” Dalamar combed back his gray hair with a smile. “What kind of siblings would we be if we allowed one of our brothers to starve or sleep on the streets, no?”

‘Well… if all goes well, I might not even need to.’

Still, Clover bowed in thanks. “Thank you, Elder.”

“No need to thank me, Brother Salwyn. I don’t own the Tower, after all. Nor do I make its rules.” Dalamar waved away the young man’s concerns and took out a small rolled-up piece of parchment, pushing it toward Clover. “Take this. Once you arrive in Vel Ayala, head for the gigantic tower that nobody with working eyeballs can possibly miss. Show it to the guards and they’ll let you in. Again, no need for thanks.”

Clover once again bowed before taking the scroll and storing it inside his coat. From how the old sorcerer looked at him in silence, he knew that his business here was over, so Clover stood up and hesitantly held out his hand. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Elder Dalamar.”

“The pleasure was mine, Brother Salwyn.” Dalamar took Clover’s hand and gripped it tightly for a moment before letting go. “I hope to see you in Vel Ayala. In good health, preferably.”

“Yes, Elder.”

Clover bowed one last time before turning around. But just before he reached for the door, he was stopped.

"Brother Salwyn."

"Yes?" Clover turned around, confusion written all over his face. Did he somehow reveal his true intentions and was about to be killed now?

Luckily, that didn't seem to be the case since the elder still had what seemed like a benevolent smile on his gnarled face. "This doesn't apply to you since you don't have any, but please note that most magically-charged items malfunction within the vicinity of Vel Ayala. It’s actually a consequence of the Spirit Tower’s existence, which is the city's core."

"Malfunction, you say...?"

"Yes. In particular, things like... illusion artifacts that modify the user's appearance are hit the hardest."

Dalamar smirked, seemingly recalling a few things. "Some people, you see, like to use those kinds of artifacts to look more... attractive. Or sometimes, it’s to hide some blemish or a scar from an accident.”

‘Wow. I wish I was rich enough to have a solution to being ugly as a man.’

Clover chuckled in his mind. The news didn’t really affect him much, so he didn’t think it was such a big deal.

Until a moment later, when he realized the implications of the information to his client’s plans — or what Clover thought were his client’s plans.

Naturally, unaware of his thoughts, the old sorcerer continued rambling on despite Clover’s heart sinking.

“What strange people, no?” Dalamar shook his head in exasperation. “I have yet to hear of any artifacts that don't wear off when someone touches the user, but either way, they usually don't work on people who are gifted with supernatural senses — such as people with the aptitude for sorcery or elementalism. Such a fact hardly matters for certain people though, because looking pretty for the common onlooker seems perfectly fine for them.”

“...I agree.” Clover nodded, trying to mask his own thoughts under the veil of someone exasperated with the lengths some people go to just for momentary gratification. “Going to a place like Vel Ayala with those on is just a waste of an artifact.”

“Indeed, indeed.”

“So… the illusions really wear off, Elder? Entirely?”

“That is the case, yes.” Dalamar nodded, still stroking his beard in thought. “Sometimes, the cheaper ones even crumble, becoming dust in the wind.”

“I see… How unfortunate. For them.”

“Oh, but highly sophisticated non-illusion artifacts such as those for spatial storage aren’t affected. We have also discovered ways to nullify the effect within certain areas for the purpose of setting up defensive measures for the tower. Though inconvenient, the tower’s effect of disrupting all manner of magical items isn’t all bad.”

“...Thank you for taking the trouble to enlighten me, Elder.”

“It’s no trouble at all, Brother Salwyn. In fact, doing so is my duty as an old man with too much time.” Dalamar chuckled, seemingly in a much better mood all of a sudden. “Well, there you have it. Just a bit of an unnecessary warning not to walk into Vel Ayala with a fake appearance. You’ll be fine though."

"Yes, Eld—"

"Anyone attempting to enter the Spirit Tower disguised as one of us will also have a very hard time indeed because of these restrictions. Hmhmhm..."

Clover's stomach lurched but he managed to keep his expression from revealing his anxiety. "Yes, Elder. Well then, I beg your pardon."

"Yes, Brother Salwyn. Do take care. And may the cold winds bring warm tidings."

"To you as well, Elder."

'Does... Does he know something?'

Whether the old sorcerer did or didn't, it would be safer for Clover to be more careful. Clover turned right around and left the office. He continued walking in silence up until he left the city hall itself, standing right before the main road.

Only then could he finally take a deep breath and relax his mind.

‘I hope I never have to talk to an Ascendent ever again…’

Clover heaved the longest sigh of his life. What he’d just experienced was like being forced into a conversation at gunpoint, all while tied to a chair — one wrong word and his life was forfeit.

‘Well, I lived through it, so I suppose I’m fine for now. Just have to decide what to do next…’

Ideally, his client got in contact with him right this instant.

But even Clover knew that meeting up right after he came from City Hall was not the best plan. Though the chances were slim, he couldn’t totally ignore the possibility that someone was following him.

‘I heard Ascendents can tell everything that happens within five leagues around them if they focus, so perhaps Elder Dalamar is watching me personally. He can probably watch me up until I reach the station.’

After some thought, Clover decided to shack up at an inn for now. Moving too far away from the train station he would have to ride to go to Vel Ayala would be too suspicious, but at the same time, leaving the capital without feedback from his client might be seen as him being disobedient.

As much as he was scared of being blasted into countless pieces by some old sorcerer, Clover feared his client much more. This was because while Dalamar could erase his life, his client could ruin his and his mother's lives. They could even go after Ellin and her family.

‘I still have some money, so I can afford to stay here for a while. But then again, staying in the capital for no reason is suspicious. So I should do something while I’m here.’

Dalamar had told him that he could get food and lodging at the tower for free. But while that would be a significant relief to his financial situation, it wouldn’t necessarily fatten up his wallet.

Hence, Clover thought he could do some odd jobs while he was here.

‘If I remember correctly, there’s a monster-infested forest nearby... Apparently, nobody clears it out since the monsters usually stay in the forest anyway. And they’re a good source of rare furs and stuff.’

Such things were rare back in his hometown though, because nobody was rich enough to pay a liveable wage for something like that — or maybe nobody wanted to pay at all. And as far as Clover knew, the monster population near his hometown thinned out because it was close to the border with the empire — and monsters dumb enough to stay close to where a bunch of strong humans hung out probably died out a long time ago.

The ones near the capital were a rare exception — these monsters were purposely being kept alive so they could be continuously hunted.

It struck Clover as somewhat cruel, but when he thought about it, the world was never a nice place from the start.

‘Yup. I’m liking this idea. Who said I was dumb? Fuck that exam…’

As he gave his idea more thought, Clover’s feet dragged him over to a nearby inn. In a bit of a daze, he asked for the rates, only to be brought back to reality by how expensive it was. Clover may have had more money than ever, but that didn’t mean frugality was lost on him — naturally, he bolted out of there.

He then had the thought to ask some locals for inn recommendations and their prices, only to discover that if he didn’t want to stay in some shithole — which would likely get him robbed in his sleep — then his best option was actually the hotel that he’d just ran away from.

‘Son of a bitch…’

Biting his lip in frustration, Clover lowered his head and marched back to the hotel with the motif of a golden snake, hoping against hope that his client would contact him immediately.

 

---

 

Clover’s hopes were dashed and even after two weeks, his client didn’t get in touch with him.

“Agh, fuck my back…” he grumbled to himself as he laid back, sinking into the soft mattress.

At the start, he was a bit grumpy about the price, but after a while, Clover was starting to think that the comfort offered by his bed made it all worth it.

Especially after going out for three-day hunting trips in the nearby forest together with a band of hunters. It took him a while to get the hang of things — like the part about wading through the sea of trees, or the part about having to sleep and shit on the ground — but ever since their party’s first encounter with a monster ambush, Clover felt as if he more than deserved his share of the profits.

And everybody else agreed that having a sorcerer, albeit one who was unfriendly on top of not knowing any military-grade spells, was a great boon to the team's survivability.

In fact, despite what Clover used to perceive as fraudulent hotel expenses, the income from his little hunting trips was more than enough to add a little more weight to his purse. He was significantly richer now than when he started.

‘Man, if being a battlemage didn’t work out, I should have just become a monster hunter instead.’

Sure, he almost died on many occasions throughout the span of just fourteen days and he shat his pants a little on a few of them, but the money spoke for itself.

Clover smiled as he fondled his money pouch while looking up at the ceiling. It wasn’t very heavy, but that was because he’d received a few rolls of banknotes instead of coins.

Though it was slightly sad to admit, he had never been so financially secure since his mother’s illness flared up, and he was feeling really good about it.

‘Client’s taking his sweet time, but I can’t really do anything about that. Like, what, am I gonna send him an angry letter or something? Then boom, I get my mother’s head as a reply. Yep, let’s just be patient and not provoke the person with all the leverage.’

Besides, living in the capital wasn’t that bad.

“Hm?” Clover’s eyes wandered to the door when he heard footsteps. And a moment later, a knock followed. His room wasn’t that big, so he didn’t need to shout too loud for someone outside to hear him. “Who is it?”

“It’s me. We were heading off for some fun and thought to invite ya!”

‘Oh. It’s one of the guys from that one hunting trip… What was his name again? I keep forgetting. Damnit, this is why I almost failed the exams…’

All the same, it fit the type of person he was acting as, so maybe it was better this way.

With masked exasperation and displeasure, Clover responded to what was probably the tenth attempt to get him to go to a brothel. “I’m too tired. Go away.”

“Aw, c’mon. Don’t be so uptight and get your dick a little wet, you fool. I’ll even treat ya this time! You’re a capable hunter and we’d love to get to know ya better! Wouldn’t hurt to get to know us better too, if you want to make it big as a hunter around here!”

‘Yeah, but that’s the thing. I’m not going to be a hunter…’

“I said I’m fine.” Clover sighed, scratching his head. Contemplating whether to say that he had a girl back home waiting for him.

‘On second thought, my client won’t appreciate me telling anyone about me.’

His silence seemed to cause other strange thoughts to well up in his fellow hunter’s mind though. “What, are ya one o’ those? You like men, boy?”

“Fuck off.”

“Then what? Don’t tell me ye got a girl back home? Even if ya do, she don't need to know, you know?”

‘Yeah, but I would know.’

“I said fuck off. I’m tired.”

Clover heard the man behind the door click his tongue and walk away, grumbling about doubts over Clover’s manhood.

‘Seriously… when people said that it was different in the big cities, they weren’t kidding.’

Everybody was so… careless with their bodies here.

Actually, even without going to brothels, Clover was propositioned by a few women who were impressed with his skills as a sorcerer. The fact that he’d saved their lives on a prior occasion probably had a hand in it as well. His usual unfriendliness didn’t seem to be enough of a deterrent.

But all the same, he was shocked that women desired him for something like that.

Clover and Ellin were very young and in love when they exchanged their first times. And even though they were both horny teenagers back then, they had still gone through the steps properly, taking time to bond and get to know each other — until the feelings could no longer be contained and they ended up doing it at a local park at night.

Here in the capital, though?

Clover barely knew anything about these women, and they were ready to get down and dirty.

‘Man, I miss Ellin…’

No matter who tempted him, Clover’s heart was set on one girl for the rest of his life.

These big city sluts with their nasty vaginas were nothing compared to his beloved. He didn’t really want to put it in such a vulgar way, but only Ellin was allowed to hop on his rod. And no matter what, he was determined to keep it that way.

Maybe he was old fashioned and some people would think he was into other men.

But he didn’t care about what a bunch of people — who he would never see again — thought about him.

What mattered most was what he thought of himself.

‘Just a bit more… And everything will be right again.’

As Clover stared into the ceiling, contemplating how society devolved just as civilization advanced, he suddenly noticed that the ceiling was getting farther and farther away from him. For a moment, he thought he was just experiencing some weird way of passing out, but then he realized how wet his bed was and how his limbs seemed to have lost agency.

No matter how tired he was, Clover had no choice but to admit that something very strange was going on.

“Hel—mmph!” Clover tried to call for aid but something covered his mouth before he could.

The next thing he knew, his vision turned black, and something revolting covered every part of his body. Vertigo hit him like a runaway carriage and if his mouth wasn’t being covered by something, he would have already unloaded what was left of his lunch all over himself and regretted it instantly.

After what was probably ten years — or so he perceived — the disgusting sensation was lifted and he regained use of his eyes and limbs.

Clover gasped for air as he kicked his legs out, jumping into an upright position. He pulled out his wand, which was thankfully still attached to his belt after the bizarre event, and pointed it at the ground. Even though he still didn’t know what was going on, surely, casting a defensive ward to protect himself wouldn’t be the wrong choice.

He began doing just that as he surveyed his surroundings, instantly noting that he was in a dimly lit room with a single window facing the sea as the only source of light — an escape route, but he didn't know what floor he was on so he would have to prepare a Whisperfall spell just in case.

“Good evening, Mr. Salwyn.”

“You…” Clover’s eyes then immediately locked onto the only other being in the room, who had risen from the shadows like some kind of demon from an old wive's tale meant to scare children.

The newcomer’s appearance was so sudden that Clover would have instinctively attacked if he wasn’t busy bolstering his defenses.

“Don’t be alarmed.” The mysterious entity raised both hands to show he meant no harm.

Though the room was too dark to see anything in too much detail, from the outline of a muscular build, broad shoulders, and a deep voice, Clover could at least tell that his adversary was male.

With barely veiled sarcasm, Clover responded slowly, so he could buy time to finish his defense. “I was suddenly taken away from my room using a method I can’t even understand. Understandably so, I find it hard not to be alarmed.”

“Point taken.” The man chuckled before snapping his fingers, a chair made of what seemed like ice appeared for him just as he was sitting down. Some magical bulbs of light placed throughout the room also lit up, revealing just how sparsely decorated the room was. “Better, Mr. Salwyn?”

“I…” Clover was just about to quip back when he got a better look at who he was talking to.

The man wore a very familiar mask that looked like a man’s emotionless face. Except that Clover usually saw these masks in a metallic color like silver — while the man wore one made of gold.

With this piece of information, Clover immediately halted all his magical preparation and fell on his knees with his head lowered. “I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t know it was you.”

The man — no, Clover’s client — chuckled and stood up as the ice chair melted into the air. “How are you so sure that I am who you think I am?”

“Your mask, sir…” Clover licked his lips, realizing that his answer seemed a bit lackluster. After all, an impostor could have easily made something similar. “I was also expecting your respected self to contact me sometime before I am supposed to go to the tower.”

“Hm…” The client strolled to the only window in the room, his dark robes dragging across the floor. “Your reasoning is still lacking, but I suppose it doesn’t matter since you got it right this time. And this time is the only time that matters.”

“Thank you for your mercy, sir…”

“Yes, yes. Well, let’s get on with it. You have watchers, Mr. Salwyn. And someone of mine is working very hard to deceive them at the moment. We don’t have much time.”

Clover looked up, wondering what was about to happen. No matter what it was though, there was too much at stake for him to refuse. “I will cooperate as best as I can.”

“I’m glad you feel that way. Ah, and you can call me Boss, for now. You’ll be working for me for a short while before I send you off to live a quiet life, after all.” The boss held out his arm and a sword appeared in his hand, likely from a spatial storage artifact. “Get up.”

“Yes, Boss…” Clover stood up and eyed the blade’s glimmering edge warily before trying to stand straighter than he already was. “What do I have to do?”

“Hm. Yes, well. You swore some kind of oath, yes?”

Clover gulped. Somehow, he was starting to see where the conversation was going. “Yes, Boss.”

Boss nodded, and from how close they were, Clover could finally tell that the eyes hidden behind the mask were also gold. “Which arm did the watcher’s fragment take from you?”

“That’s…” Clover tried to calm his heart as best as he could as he raised his right arm. “This one, Boss.”

Just from the man’s words alone, Clover realized his client knew a lot more about the tower’s secrets than what was normal. Somehow, that was both reassuring and intimidating at the same time.

“So it was this one…” Boss held up Clover’s right arm by the wrist, inspecting it with a contemplative hum. “Mr. Salwyn, I am told that there is a tree called the Sayal Tree growing in your town’s area. Are you familiar with it?”

Somewhat stunned by the sudden shift in topic, Clover barely managed a nod after a respectable amount of time. “Yes. Everybody knows where I come from… Because the town is named after it.”

“Right, right… The Sayal is a great tree, providing sturdy and aromatic lumber, ideal for furniture and other things.”

“That is the case, yes…”

“And did you also know that the Sayal’s scent attracts an invasive species of insects that bury their eggs into the tree and slowly rot it away?”

Clover nodded again. “Yes… We had one in our old house, actually. Back when we were still… affluent. And it did suffer from rotters in the summer.”

“What did you do about it?”

“Well…” Clover dug up the memories of before his life went to shit. “The rotters usually lay their eggs near the tip of branches for some reason. So after we finish killing all the adult ones, we just cut up the branches that start rotting and burn them.”

“That’s what I thought, yes.” Boss nodded in approval and the eyes behind the mask seemed to smile. “Such a process is called pruning in English, Mr. Salwyn. It is the process of selectively cutting away individual branches to preserve the overall health of the plant or tree as a whole. Sometimes, it is done so the tree doesn’t rob the smaller plants near it of sunlight, but that’s beside the point.”

“Uhm…” Clover licked his lips uneasily, noticing how close the sword was to his elbow.

“Seeing as you have prior experience, Mr. Salwyn.” Boss ignored Clover’s misgivings and focused on the arm in his grasp. “You must understand that sometimes, it is necessary to abandon certain things to preserve the whole. Am I right?”

‘Fuck… FUCK.’

With the masked man’s words, Clover realized that there was no getting out of this anymore.

“...Yes, Boss.”

“Very good. Don’t worry, this room has invisible anesthetic gas everywhere and it should be taking effect any second now.”

Not giving Clover any time to respond, the blade moved very slowly from one place to another — it just so happened that Clover’s right elbow was between the two places.

Though he wasn’t given a final warning, Clover felt thankful that the anesthetic part was true.