Deep analysis and discussion led this nominal master-apprentice pair to reach a consensus.

Slow down life. Ease up on work. Blend teaching with fun. Progress step by step.

Leya etched these sixteen golden words into her heart. Once again, she felt the profound wisdom of Mei Yige—the greatness of the Void Witch.

A true genius with deep insight wasn’t someone shallow like her to casually imitate. No matter the topic, just a few words from the old master left Leya deeply enlightened.

"Alright, onto important matters," Mei Yige relaxed as Leya accepted her advice humbly. She crossed her legs and took another sip of black tea. "Carlicart took people back to the underground labyrinth too. But with more hands now, we can spare some specialists to help. Should be easier." She tilted her head, curious. "Though I wonder—what major incident could possibly happen in our little town?"

"Not much, really," Leya replied casually, also crossing her legs. "Just that incident at the mine recently. One missing adventurer named Luna—her family came demanding answers. That’s all."

"Once you become an adventurer, you must be prepared for accidents," Leya continued lightly. "Our Association’s duty is serving local residents—providing essential magical services for daily life. That’s what truly matters. Missing adventurers? Commonplace. Hardly a crisis. Any other commissions? Let’s hear them."

"You’re… absolutely right," Leya murmured, her gaze lowering slightly.

*[Prioritizing residents first? Teacher… are you truly unaware, or testing me? No—I shouldn’t presume. A Sorceress’s vision is beyond a mere mage like me to fathom.]*

Unaware her overthinking assistant had twisted her words beyond recognition, Mei Yige waved a hand. "Ordinary specialists can handle the rest. Nothing requiring special magical support. Unless you think…"

Well-behaved children deserve rewards.

Leya rubbed her hands together, eyes sparkling with anticipation. Mei Yige couldn’t find it in herself to refuse.

"Come. Let me see how deeply you understand magic."

"Yes!"

As the Void Witch led her devoted fan to explore arcane mysteries, Ryan entered the office clutching a commission scroll.

"Where’s Sister Yige?"

The empty office made the rabbit-eared girl’s head spin. She rushed to find the specialist who usually handled Magic Consultant requests.

"Sister Mei? She said she’s practicing magic with Miss Leya. Is something urgent…?"

"Didn’t Miss Leya tell her about Miss Luna’s disappearance?!" Ryan’s voice shot up in disbelief. Lately, the Association’s Magic Office had worn her thin—Mei Yige’s bizarre commission resolutions and Leya’s lightning-fast methods always dumped cleanup on Ryan’s shoulders.

The once gentle, slightly timid but fiercely passionate blue-haired rabbit-eared girl had finally snapped under her two parachuted superiors.

"What do they expect me to do?!"

"I-I don’t know! Waaah! Miss Leya said Sister Mei called it trivial and left! I’ll—I’ll go find them!"

"Trivial?! Baron Albert is bringing soldiers to demand answers! How is that trivial?! The President’s unreachable, the Vice-President’s gone too, and now they pull this?! I—I…"

Ryan collapsed into a crouch, sobbing in despair. She’d only wanted a quiet job, enough coin to buy a cozy cottage, a peaceful life. Instead, graduating straight into this Association had shattered her dreams. Was it so hard?!

Those arrogant mages from the capital—how could this tiny Association withstand a Baron’s pressure? Wait… Baron? Mage?

"Don’t cry! Please don’t cry! I know where they went—I’ll drag those two troublemakers back! Hey—!"

Seeing Ryan’s tears, her usually cheerful colleague panicked and bolted to chase Mei Yige. But Ryan’s hand shot out, gripping her wrist.

"No need."

"Huh?"

The sudden calm in Ryan’s voice froze the specialist. In minutes, the rabbit-eared girl’s entire aura had shifted.

"Who said the Mage Ladies were trouble? They’re perfect! The fault is ours. Absolutely."

Ryan beamed, dabbing her tears with a handkerchief. She faced her colleague with radiant composure. "We were the ones being hasty."

"...Okay?"

Bewildered, the specialist watched Ryan stride out of the Consultant’s Office.

*Am I… the only strange one here?*

She suddenly felt utterly out of place.

In truth, Ryan had simply had an epiphany.

*Sister Yige told me this long ago—I just forgot. This isn’t anyone’s fault but mine… Sigh. I’m still so green at workplace politics.*

Her realization flashed back to the day Leya joined the office—Mei Yige’s words echoing clearly:

"Ryan, a new mage is joining as my assistant. She’ll handle commissions too. I’ve briefed her—you can trust her with details."

Knowing Ryan was diligent and conscientious, Mei Yige treated the rabbit-eared girl gently despite her usual teasing. She saw how hard Ryan worked handling every commission handover.

"It’s my duty, Sister Yige. But please… stop wrapping up commissions so hastily? We have authority, but proper resolutions take real effort…"

Hans got eaten by a horse.

Wild boars attacking orchards became adorable pets.

Drunks causing nighttime trouble woke up stripped naked on the town gates.

A thieving kitten "helped" by cat-loving Archmage Mei got to experience the joy of flight…

Big or small, Mei Yige always delivered completed commissions—with bizarre, unreviewable results.

Ryan found it exhausting.

"As long as people are satisfied, the method doesn’t matter," Mei Yige had shrugged. "Remember, Ryan: I’m a mage. You’re from the Consultant’s Office. Our work *should* stand out."

She didn’t care about the town’s odd rumors—in fact, she welcomed them.

Fame as some flawless Grand Mage? Unnecessary. A few bad reviews kept expectations low.

Ryan hadn’t understood then.

But now she did.

*A mere Baron dares question a capital mage’s decision?*

Ryan strode toward the reception room, a cold smile curling her lips.

Mei Yige’s antics proved one thing: she was here for leisure. As long as commissions were technically fulfilled, accountability meant nothing.

Capital mages always had powerful backers. No—

The Mage Lady *herself* was the power.

So Baron Albert’s missing daughter? Mei Yige wouldn’t blink. The Association bore no real responsibility anyway—that Baron was just throwing his weight around.

After handling endless messy commissions, Ryan now had leverage. And leverage meant she feared no tantrums.

Thus, Baron Albert sipping tea in the reception room watched the flustered clerk who’d greeted him earlier march back in—radiating icy authority.

"The Magic Consultant stated clearly," Ryan announced, voice sharp as shattered glass, "she doesn’t handle trivial matters. Unless you wish to *force* her involvement, the Association rejects your unreasonable demand."