"Mr. Witt, can you see the factories outside the city?"

"There, that one," Kaelxi pointed toward the tall chimneys beyond Cesecity’s walls.

"They used to work inside there—fourteen hours a day, seven days a week."

"That barely kept them scraping by on the edge of survival. Many couldn’t even afford food or shelter."

Kaelxi’s voice was soft, her face etched with sorrow.

Seeing her like this, Witt felt a pang in his chest. He slowly moved closer to her side.

Kaelxi didn’t notice his movement. Her eyes stayed fixed on a beggar devouring bread nearby.

"Most factories were set up by noble lords and wealthy merchants together," she continued.

"Their lackeys roamed the city recruiting workers, promising benefits. None were ever delivered."

"Older workers got fired outright. With no savings or homes, they ended up here."

"Younger workers injured on the job received no compensation—just sent home. Those without family care also drifted to the West District."

Most beggars were elderly, but disabled young people were among them too. They scavenged trash bins for food daily, drinking from filthy ditches when thirsty.

"The lords didn’t want them leaving the West District. They dumped them here to fend for themselves. Claimed they were too kind-hearted to witness it."

"They’d rather feed lavish meals to pet dogs than spare these beggars a crumb. Even though their wealth came from squeezing these very people."

"People only see successful merchants and wealthy nobles. Who spares a glance for these beggars?"

"Just like outsiders arriving in Cesecity—dazzled by its splendor first. How many care about the dark clouds hanging over it?"

As she spoke, Kaelxi’s eyes grew moist. She genuinely pitied them, even while using the beggars as cover for her own plans.

Witt watched her sorrowful face, feeling hollow inside. A breath stuck in his chest.

He pulled her close, draping an arm over her shoulders. He looked down at her soft golden hair and spoke slowly, earnestly:

"I will disperse those dark clouds for you, Miss Kaelxi."

His warm breath brushed her ear. Kaelxi shivered, startled, snapping out of her sadness.

*Damn it, when did I allow him this close?*

*This fool talks big but can’t back it up. Still, he knows how to charm.*

*Keep up the act for now.*

Kaelxi held her breath, face flushing crimson. She looked up at him with hero-worshipping eyes and gasped:

"Kaelxi believes in you, Mr. Witt."

Witt was stunned. Her emerald eyes sparkled with hope—a beautiful maiden’s trust, his first.

In that moment, his mission felt less important than this woman.

*Must I become a warrior? Not really.*

*Must I regain noble status for my family? It doesn’t matter anymore.*

Witt’s ancestors were nobles once. The family declined, splitting into branches, losing their title. His grandfather—one branch—hid in a mountain village. From childhood, he drilled Witt to reclaim nobility, scorning villagers. Other children avoided Witt. His family pressured him relentlessly, offering little warmth. His warrior training was forced. His father, reluctant, secretly took him to play—but grandfather always scolded him. The family revered warriors, despising other professions. As nobles, buying profession scrolls was easy. Now Witt had to earn them alone. After his father’s death, Witt left with heirlooms and a sword, striving in Buchert Kingdom to fulfill the dying wish: "Become a warrior." He carried warrior blood, possessing the innate "Swordmaster" talent—superior to his family’s usual "Swordsman." His father believed Witt would excel more as a warrior than a mage, never considering other talents. Most profession holders had only one skill. Yet Witt alone knew he had three. He rejected his grandfather’s beliefs. Noble lives weren’t worth more than commoners’. Meeting Kaelxi strengthened that. Now, staying in Cesecity with Miss Kaelxi—selling bread, helping the poor—felt nobler than his old dreams. He drowned in her gentle kindness. Protecting her for life was his only wish.

Straightforward as he was, he blurted: "Miss Kaelxi, would you... be willing to date me?"

"Huh?" Kaelxi froze, face burning redder, almost steaming. She tried to pull away, but his grip pinned her shoulders.

*I’m a grown man, confessed to by this fool! And I felt guilty about tricking him into mining!*

*This pervert’s lusting after me!*

*Why am I blushing? What is this weird feeling?!*

She’d expected to vomit at such thoughts. Instead, a tiny spark of happiness flickered.

*Impossible! It’s just the plan working!*

*Whatever. Witt trusts me blindly—tonight will go smoothly. Pervert, get ready to mine for life!*

She’d decided: sell him to mines, then drug him and "punish" little Witt thoroughly.

Her face, like a ripe apple, softened into a shy smile. Head lowered, avoiding his eyes, she traced a semicircle with her foot. Fingers twirled a strand of golden hair on her chest as she whispered:

"If it’s you, Mr. Witt... I wouldn’t say no."

Witt, the love-struck virgin, felt he’d finally found life’s true meaning.

Buchert Kingdom Trivia:

"Swordmaster": You’re a natural-born sword genius. Your physique is exceptionally strong. Sword moves stick after one glance. You master techniques without teachers. Becoming a master is only a matter of time.

"Swordsman": You learn sword moves faster—at least compared to ordinary people.