Oren had never imagined he could run this fast. He just felt like he’d sprinted past several streets. When he finally stopped, he had no clue where he was.

No one’s chasing me, right?

Panting heavily, Oren glanced back. After a long pause, no sign of Lia appeared behind him. Minutes dragged on before he let out a heavy sigh. Lazily, he leaned against a nearby tree to rest.

He’d finally escaped.

Slowly sinking to the ground, Oren wiped sweat from his brow. He looked up at the sky. The sun had set; stars shimmered with silver light. Yet, gazing at this beauty, Oren felt deeply saddened.

Would he have nowhere to sleep tonight again?

Frowning, he pressed a hand to his forehead. When he first arrived in this country, he’d accidentally seen Lia’s naked body for some absurd reason. A fireball had blasted him to the ground, ruining his planned stay at an inn. Excluding that hospital day…

He hadn’t slept properly since arriving here.

And every time, it involved Lea Rodni.

“Is she my curse?” Oren muttered, voice trembling, hands covering his face.

Just then, a voice sounded behind him.

“Oren, what are you doing?”

Oren whipped around. Dysaia stared at him oddly. “I was wondering why you were so slow. Since you’re here, you could’ve said something.”

Did he accidentally run to the right spot?

Shaking off his thoughts, Oren stood up slowly. Brushing dust off his clothes, he faced Dysaia. “Nothing. Let’s go.”

Though puzzled by Oren’s strange behavior, Dysaia led him through several trees. Pushing aside branches, she revealed the scene ahead.

On a grassy patch, moonlight bathed the trees, washing away dust. Like neatly dressed soldiers, they stood in rows stretching to the forest’s edge. Birds flitted happily through the green sea, chirping as they flew tirelessly into the distance.

On clean grass, Lontan and Yamwen sat on a white cloth laden with food. Four finely carved wooden plates rested on it. At each corner, a pair of antler-made knives and forks lay ready. Platters of roasted meat filled the air with rich aromas. Loaves of fragrant bread and bowls of fruit glistened temptingly under the faint moonlight.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” Dysaia said with a smile, taking her seat. Oren slowly sat before an empty plate. As he settled, Yamwen gently pulled a wine bottle from a basket and popped the cork.

“Well then…” Yamwen gracefully poured crimson wine into small glasses for everyone. Oren swirled the pale rose liquid in his glass. A complex aroma—rich, fruity, and earthy—wafted up, soothing his senses.

Dysaia raised her glass, smiling softly. “To our fates.”

“To our fates,” the others echoed. They clinked glasses. After a sip, Oren rubbed his hands together. Smiling happily, he grabbed a fork and inhaled deeply.

Finally, a proper meal.

He speared a piece of roasted venison, greedily sniffing its fragrant juices. As he bit into it, bliss spread across his face.

“Um… how does it taste?” Yamwen suddenly leaned close, whispering.

Oren paused, then smiled warmly. “It’s really good.”

Though he meant it honestly, Yamwen’s face flushed red. The hundred-year-old Elvenfolk fiddled with her ear hair, giggling softly as she slid back to her seat.

Oren just looked confused. Lontan sighed, raising his glass. “I really don’t get what she sees in this human,” he muttered under his breath, watching Yamwen with a fatherly frown.

Dysaia ate elegantly but sparingly—only tender meat bites and a few grapes. Yet, in moments, her plate was spotless.

Oren recalled Dysaia’s past words: Ancient dragons like her didn’t need food to survive, but eating brought them pleasure. After millennia alone in a castle, her senses had dulled. Now, freed, every flavor revived her long-dormant senses.

Remembering intel from the student council, Oren took a sip of wine. “Dysaia, I have some intel to share.”

The others set down their utensils. Oren explained everything: why the Crimson Dragon targeted Lia, the student council’s plan, and his assigned task. After he finished, Dysaia paused, chin in hand.

“Hmm. We’ll need to refocus on the Crimson Dragon.”

Lontan nodded slightly, hand resting on his waist axe. “I know the Crimson Dragon’s army recruits second-tier creatures like goblins and ogres. Honestly, I doubt they’ll be much use.”

“I agree with Lontan,” Yamwen said, nodding slowly. She turned to Oren. “I support your judgment. Guard Lia first. Once the Crimson Dragon’s agents appear, we can capture one and find their base.” She lowered her head thoughtfully. “But I don’t want anyone else falling into the student council’s hands.”

Oren nodded slowly. After seeing that goblin’s corpse in the cage, he could imagine the torture inflicted. Any sentient being, even second-tier creatures, shouldn’t suffer like that.

“Then it’s settled,” Dysaia said softly, eyes on Oren. “We’ll rely on you to watch over Lia. We’ll provide backup when needed—don’t hesitate to ask.”

“I will,” Oren replied.

Dysaia smiled and stood. “Well, dinner’s done. Thanks for the invite, Yamwen.”

“No trouble at all,” Yamwen and Lontan said, rising.

Oren glanced at Dysaia. “Uh, are your dorms arranged?”

“Of course!” Dysaia pulled Yamwen close, grinning at Oren. “William placed us together—in the same class too.”

Oren’s eye twitched. He turned to Lontan with a pleading look. “And you, Lontan?”

“William gave me a single room to hide my identity.”

“Ah… good,” Oren murmured. “My dorm has issues. I’ll stay at a city inn tonight.”

It’d cost money, but not too much.

Dysaia patted his shoulder lazily. “See you tomorrow. Don’t be late for the first day.” She brushed her cheek against his. “I’m really looking forward to being in your class.” Then she led the flustered Yamwen toward the academy. Lontan bowed slightly to Oren before following.

Sighing, Oren headed toward the city. Helistar Academy sat on the outskirts, but a path behind it led straight to Raging Tide City’s rear. Soon, he was back in town. Most shops were closed; only a few odd ones stayed open.

Should he go to that大叔’s inn again? He was the one who got it blown up…

Just then, something tugged his sleeve. A clear voice reached his ears.

“Um, big brother, can you help me?”

Oren turned. A little girl in a white robe looked up expectantly. Her porcelain-pale face held an ethereal grace. A faint, gentle smile curved her lips. Her long, ash-pale hair floated like sky ribbons in the breeze.

However, after seeing the little girl, Oren was stunned for a long time. For some reason, he sensed an incredibly troublesome aura from her. Yet, for unknown reasons, he still said softly to her,

"Um... what is it?"

"Well, I’d like to trouble you, sir, to take me into this store."

*What? Just showing the way. Probably no issue.*

Thinking this, Oren slowly nodded. The moment he did, the girl excitedly pulled him rightward for quite a distance. Then, pointing ahead, she whispered,

"I want to enter this shop! But they said I need someone to accompany me."

Oren followed her finger. Ahead, a black building crouched like a bear on the ground. He didn’t mind its structure—what caught his eye was the sign:

Seward Casino

......Casino

He’d heard the Duchy of Sidius was lenient with such places, but this was his first time seeing one. After another long pause, Oren turned to the girl beside him. Suddenly, he saw her pull out countless money bags, her face alight with anticipation as she stared at the casino entrance. Stunned again, Oren stammered,

"Say, miss... how old are you?"

"Hmm~~~ Father told me not to share my family name with strangers......"

Even as she said this, she beamed at Oren with a radiant, sun-like smile.

"Well, my name is Irina. I’m nine."