The day began quietly in Pero City, with Yoka chatting with customers in the shop. He asked them about the latest happenings in other cities—news of spells, merchants, or products entering the market. As a former adventurer, Yoka knew that travellers often carried useful and intriguing information between cities. After one conversation, he nodded and said, “Thank you very much, kind lady.” The woman smiled warmly before walking away.

  Yoka’s gaze shifted to Dam, standing nearby with a black eyepatch over his swollen eye. Dam was engaged in light-hearted banter with customers, smiling and expressing gratitude to those who asked about his injury.

  Leaving Dam to handle the front, Yoka headed to the second floor to retrieve a new batch of magic scrolls. As he carried the heavy box back down, a thought lingered in his mind: *That’s the first time I’ve seen him wear that cold, emotionless smile—it’s just a facade.*

  By the time three hours passed, it was noon, the hour when shops in the area typically paused for a break. Yoka and Dam closed up briefly to share a meal. Yoka drank water and savoured Dam’s soup, having sworn off alcohol after that fateful day. Meanwhile, Dam ate slowly, his gaze repeatedly drawn to the door as if waiting for someone to appear.

  The quiet was broken by a knock on the shop’s door. Yoka moved to stand, but Dam was already rushing to answer. Following him, Yoka reached the door to see a civilian scout—a low-level military worker known for taking on menial tasks due to lacking magical prowess, wealth, or notable physical abilities.

  The scout handed Dam a letter with a curt nod before departing. Dam carried the letter to the counter, sat down, and unfolded it.

  “Did something happen?” Yoka asked after a pause.

  Dam glanced up, his expression tense. “My sister... she’s training to join the witch’s school. She doesn’t even know about Grandma Mia. I need to talk to her, but...”

  Yoka understood the rules of Argandia’s witch school. The girls’ training was relentless, allowing no interruptions. By the end of their first day, those deemed unprepared were expelled, while the rest faced a gruelling week of tests designed to push their abilities, endurance, and talents to their limits.

  “They won’t let you meet her,” Yoka said quietly.

  Dam nodded, crumpling the letter before throwing it into the trash. He leaned back in his chair, his fingers laced together as he stared at nothing in particular. Then, with a hollow laugh, he broke the silence.

  “You know what kills me?” he said, his voice tinged with mockery and pain.

  Yoka remained silent, sensing Dam’s need to release what was weighing on him.

  “Maybe Mother Mia is already dead,” Dam continued bitterly. “And Lifa—when she finds out what happened to Mia while she was gone...”

  The laugh that escaped Dam’s lips grew louder, edged with hysteria. “Hahahahaha… That face she’ll make! THAT FACE!”

  He looked up, meeting Yoka’s gaze with a twisted grin. “That face will be what kills me.”

  Yoka stepped closer, placing a firm hand on Dam’s shoulder, but said nothing. Dam’s laughter echoed in the room, even as tears streamed down his face. Beneath the mocking exterior, he was deeply hurt.

  After composing himself, Dam reopened the shop, resuming his place behind the counter with a smile for incoming customers. Yoka, meanwhile, climbed back upstairs to search for something.

  Flipping through the pages of his old debt book, Yoka eventually found a card. A faint grin crossed his lips as he picked it up—it was his adventurer certification.

  Descending to the main floor, Yoka headed for the entrance. Pausing in the doorway, he glanced back at Dam and said, “Take care of the shop; I’ll be back.”

  Dam nodded silently, his focus on cleaning the counter. Though his hands moved with precision, his distant expression suggested his thoughts were elsewhere.

  After walking for half an hour, Yoka reached the adventurers' guild, a familiar place bustling with life. As he stepped inside, he noticed several familiar faces—adventurers who often visited his shop. They acknowledged him with nods, and Yoka returned the gestures with a polite smile before making his way to the reception desk.

  Behind the counter stood a tall man with broad shoulders, a physique that seemed more suited to a guard or knight than a receptionist. Still, the man greeted Yoka with professionalism.

  Yoka presented his adventurer card. “Good day. I’m an adventurer looking for a witch named Reyanna Girish. Could you tell me where to find her?”

  The receptionist furrowed his brow and shook his head slightly. “There are two witches by that name. Which one are you referring to?”

  Yoka clarified, “The one with scars and blue hair—not the doctor. I’m looking for the adventurer.”

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  The man nodded and began flipping through a ledger. Minutes ticked by as Yoka observed his deliberate pace, and he couldn’t help but think, *He’s definitely not an adventurer. Too slow for the fast-paced life of one.*

  After eight minutes of searching, the man finally looked up and said, “She resides in Geto City, near the market. We’ll send her a letter to notify her of your inquiry.”

  Yoka nodded in acknowledgement. “Thank you.”

  As he turned to leave, a woman entered the guild, catching Yoka’s attention. His breath hitched as he took in her features—a young adventurer clad in light armor, carrying a fiery sword. She bore an uncanny resemblance to Lyra, his former companion.

  “...Young Lyra?” The words escaped his lips before he could stop himself.

  The girl noticed his gaze and paused. With a slight bow of her head, she asked, “Are you Yoka, the shop owner?”

  Her voice snapped Yoka out of his memories. He blinked, trying to compose himself, and wiped his eyes. “Y-yes, I am. Apologies for staring.”

  The girl smiled gently, shaking her head. “No problem. What brings you here? Are you an adventurer?”

  “I used to be,” Yoka replied softly. “I’m just here to gather information about an old friend.”

  Her smile widened. “I hope you find them safe and well.”

  Yoka offered a slight bow. “Thank you. May peace be with you.”

  With that, Yoka stepped outside, but his thoughts lingered on Lyra. Memories of her flooded his mind as he walked toward the road back to his shop—her warm smile lighting up the tavern, the serenity she exuded by the campfire, and the way her voice harmonized with Qira’s during their travels.

  As he approached the shop, he stopped in front of the door, staring at it as if searching for answers. His voice was barely above a whisper, laden with regret. “Why... why did I start drinking? Was it to forget you? Such a kind soul... why would I ever want to forget you?”

  The door suddenly opened, breaking his reverie. Dam stood there, his expression tinged with concern. “What happened? You look... distant.”

  Dam’s sharp eye caught the tear slipping down Yoka’s cheek. Yoka quickly wiped it away and forced a faint smile. “A dear old friend of mine passed away. I was just thinking about her and...”

  Dam nodded, his expression softening with understanding. “Come inside. Let’s talk.”

  Yoka followed him in, the weight of his memories still pressing on his heart.

  After finishing their tea, Yoka leaned forward, his expression firm as he addressed Dam. “From now on, you’ll stay here, Dam. You understand why. I need to be sure you won’t leave the shop unless it’s absolutely necessary. Is that clear?”

  Dam nodded solemnly. “Thank you for looking out for me.”

  Yoka shook his head slightly, a soft smile on his lips. “No, Dam. You’re a good friend. But here, in my shop, you’re safe. I have connections—witches who know influential people. The Three Knights won’t return, but Safle might still be a threat. It’s best you stay put until we figure something out.”

  Dam hesitated for a moment before asking, “Where did you go earlier?”

  Sipping from his second cup of tea, Yoka replied, “To the guild. I’m looking for an old friend. I’ll be gone this week. Take care of the shop, and stay out of trouble while I’m away. Understand?”

  Dam nodded with conviction. “As always, your shop is safe with me.”

  Yoka smiled warmly, reaching out to ruffle Dam’s hair. Then, meeting his gaze, he said with a gentle yet resolute tone, “Remember, Dam.”

  Dam’s eyes met Yoka’s, filled with curiosity and trust.

  “Remember,” Yoka continued, “darkness is always followed by light. We were adventurers once—facing death, hopeless and scared. Yet we survived. Some of us settled, like me, running shops or businesses. Life can be cruel, but we endure. No matter how harsh it seems, we keep moving forward.”

  The weight of Yoka’s words settled over Dam. Though the darkness still loomed, a faint glimmer of hope stirred within him.

  Yoka gave a small nod and added, “I know change doesn’t happen overnight. It takes time, experience, and patience to see the world differently. So live for tomorrow, Dam. Face it head-on.”

  Unconsciously, Dam nodded, and for the first time in a long while, a genuine smile spread across his face. Yoka felt his heart lighten at the sight.

  Returning the smile, Yoka stood. “Prepare me a meal. I have a long journey ahead to Geto City.”

  Dam rose without hesitation, heading to the kitchen to cook for his friend. Yoka, meanwhile, remained seated, his gaze drifting to the ground as he became lost in thought.

  At the adventurers’ tavern, conversations buzzed about a recent tragedy involving Fur’s family.

  A tipsy adventurer leaned on the counter as a serving woman relayed the news. “A thief broke into their mansion, stole jewellery, killed two guards, and took Fur’s debt book!”

  Another adventurer sighed deeply. “That poor family can’t catch a break. It’s only been a week since his death, and now this?”

  From the kitchen, the chef chimed in, his voice animated. “The thief took *the* debt book? The one with records of everyone Fur owed money to—nobles, merchants, big-time businessmen? That book’s worth a fortune!”

  Outside the adventurers’ guild, a female archer spoke in hushed tones with her companion. “Rumor has it they killed him and framed the old lady just to clear the nobles’ debts.”

  Her companion stroked his beard, chuckling skeptically. “Ridiculous. Fur was wealthy, sure, but not enough to bankroll multiple noble families.”

  The archer gave a sly smile. “People gossip, but this one caught my attention. Maybe there’s some truth to it.”

  Her companion raised an eyebrow. “If it is true, who could have orchestrated it? Even if a noble family were involved, others would retaliate. Too many influential people benefited from Fur.”

  Speculation and rumours swirled, each thread weaving a murky web of elusive truths.

  Night had fallen in Pero, but the city remained lively, its streets filled with chatter, laughter, and clinking mugs.

  At the Daekrahm mansion, Safle lounged on the balcony, a glass of wine in one hand and a book in the other. She waited, her demeanour calm yet expectant.

  An hour later, a knock broke the stillness. Without lifting her gaze, Safle called out, “No need for permission. Come in.”

  A man entered—a stocky figure in his thirties with muscular arms, a small brown beard, and piercing blue eyes. His pleasant smile did little to mask his subservience as he knelt before her. “Lady Safle.”

  “Hello, handsome,” Safle replied smoothly. “Did you bring it?”

  The man nodded, producing an old, weathered book. “This is Fur’s debt book. Everything is recorded here.”

  Safle’s lips curved into a satisfied smile as she accepted it. “And the others?”

  “They’ve been burned, as you instructed,” he confirmed.

  “Thank you, Mouse. You may leave now.”

  Mouse bowed low before retreating, leaving Safle alone on the balcony. She gazed out over the city, her eyes alight with ambition.

  “Once I conquer this city, the goblins will follow,” she murmured to herself. Her voice rose with determination, “I’ll annihilate those filthy abominations with my own hands. Then, no one—*no one*—will dare challenge the Daekrahm family. No one will ever dare to touch... ME!”