After Bacas Medi entered the room, Alan set up a comprehensive Magic Array outside her door. He needed to know the instant she stepped out.

The killing intent in Bacas Medi’s eyes earlier wasn’t fake. Alan genuinely feared she might harm Emma, that Little Wolf Girl.

But why had Bacas Medi suddenly developed such hostility? Could it be… jealousy?

That couldn’t be right. They’d just met—how could she fall for him instantly? This wasn’t some novel; girls didn’t throw themselves at a guy drowning in 100,000 gold coins of debt.

Dawn was near. Alan hurried back to Haina’s room to grab some sleep.

The night passed uneventfully. Early next morning, as the first sunlight touched Alan’s face, he slowly opened his eyes. “Another beautiful day,” he murmured.

He stretched, ruffled his silver messy hair, and headed to the bathroom.

Ten minutes later, a cleaned-up Alan appeared in the kitchen. Breakfast prep time. Normally, he cooked for two—but now he needed portions for five. Emma, that little girl, had a huge appetite. He’d probably need enough for ten.

Alan disliked toast and milk. He preferred Chinese-style breakfast: fragrant rice porridge with crisp, savory side dishes. Perfect.

But with the crowd today, he still made three servings of toast and three glasses of milk. For porridge, he cooked two giant pots of century egg and pork congee—just in case Emma went hungry. He also roasted a whole beast leg specially for her.

An hour later, Alan set the breakfast on the table. The aroma alone drew Bacas Medi, Emma, and Layne out of their rooms and into the hall.

“Alan, why’s there still toast and milk?” Layne complained, eyeing the table. “I told you I love your porridge.”

He’d switched after tasting Alan’s congee and pickled sides during past stays.

“Alan…” Emma, who’d left her room early, clung to his side. She sensed Bacas Medi’s hostility and feared her. Layne, though, felt safe—no malice there.

“Haven’t washed your hands yet?” Alan asked.

Emma nodded.

Alan ruffled her messy blue hair and led her to the bathroom. Bacas Medi watched, her flawless face flushing with anger. Why didn’t she get that treatment?

Layne saw her fury. He scratched his head, served himself porridge, and ate quietly. A love veteran, he knew exactly why she was jealous. A jealous woman was like a tiger—best left alone. Silence was wise.

When Alan returned with Emma, Bacas Medi sat at the table, sipping porridge silently. She didn’t even know why Alan doting on Emma made her so angry. Was it because he was *her* man?

“Medi, don’t just drink porridge. Try the side dishes—they’re good.”

“Huh?” Bacas Medi stared at him, adorably dumbfounded. He’d called her “Medi,” not her full name. And he’d suggested she eat… Was he caring for her?

“Emma, drink some porridge first. See that roasted beast leg? All yours.”

*Drool poured out!*

Emma’s mouth watered uncontrollably. Alan’s cooking smelled heavenly.

*Slurp… slurp…*

The second-floor dining room echoed with slurping. Alan’s toast and milk sat untouched. To avoid waste, he ate all three toasts and drained the milk himself.

At nine AM, inside the Cloud Peak Guild, Alan wiped down the bar, arranged glasses, and waited for members.

Emma polished glasses behind the counter. Layne had left after breakfast—his magic power mostly restored overnight, no longer needing walls to lean on. Bacas Medi sat at the bar, glaring at Emma. Every time Emma touched Alan, Bacas Medi’s eyes flashed with menace.

Terrified, little Emma dared not stray from the bar, clinging tightly to Alan’s side.

“Medi, enough. Emma’s just a child—you’ll scare her. Can you smell any DarkMage stench?” Alan set down his towel, voice tinged with helplessness.

“No trace. Daylight means they’re hiding. DarkMages suppress their aura by day. Regular mages like you can’t easily—”

“Little Alan! Has that damn father of yours returned? And where’s that bastard Kane? Bring him out—I’ll kill him today!”

Before Bacas Medi finished, a man nearly two meters tall strode up to the bar. Dressed in a pink suit, he loomed over Alan, ignoring Bacas Medi completely.

“Uncle Lazell, Kane’s out on a mission. My scumbag father? He won’t show until I pay his 100,000 gold coin debt.” Alan smoothly poured liquor into a glass and handed it over.

Lazell—full name Joseph Lazell—president of the Forest Sprite Guild. A wood-element mage. Rank: Grand Magus!

Grand Magus! Stronger than a Super S Rank Mage. Mages beyond Super S Rank earned this title.

Lazell had short pink hair, sharp rugged features, thick brows, bold eyes, and bronze skin—pure masculine energy.

Alan guessed why he sought Kane: probably caught him messing with his daughter. Lucky Kane was away. Otherwise, Lazell would’ve left him paralyzed.

“Your father’s a scumbag too—ran off on his debt, just like your grandfather. Good thing you didn’t inherit their shameless ways. Or your Cloud Peak Guild would be doomed.” Lazell didn’t hold back, cursing Alan’s family to his face. Alan nodded behind the bar. He didn’t mind. If he found his dad and grandpa now, he wouldn’t scold—he’d beat them to death.

“Little Alan, the debt can wait. But DarkMages can’t. Last night, three more died—all A Rank Mages.” Lazell took a sip of liquor.