Alan froze in shock. That meant the two thousand gold coins left to him by the old men from the Arcane Academy were gone too. Bloodsuckers, all of them! He wanted to cry but had no tears left.
"Don’t cry, Alan," Emma said. Seeing him utterly heartbroken, she stepped forward, tiptoed, and gently stroked his silver bangs—mimicking how he used to pat her head. She was comforting him.
Feeling her concern, Alan forced a stiff smile. "Emma, I’m fine. It’s not the gold coins I mourn. What pains me is that those venerable elders from the Arcane Academy have turned shameless. Even as their sole disciple, they shouldn’t treat me like this!!!"
Yes, as the Arcane Academy’s youngest and most gifted mage, Alan had been singled out by those elders long ago. Being their only disciple meant he often served as their guinea pig. Whenever one developed a new spell but wasn’t sure of its stability, power, or destruction, they’d summon him, teach him the magic, and make him cast it.
Each time, Alan felt he had fake masters. What kind of masters were these? Others would cherish a prodigy like him—afraid he’d melt in their mouths or shatter in their palms. His masters?
A water mage obsessed with fire magic! A fire mage fixated on ice spells! Worst of all, the Arcane Academy’s headmaster—a dual-element mage—insisted on mastering every element!
This cross-training was a pain. If they stuck to their specialties, Alan would gladly learn. But no: the water mage tested fire spells on him, the fire mage tested ice magic, and the dual-element mage tested everything else. Surviving their experiments and leaving the academy alive? He was impressively tough.
"Al! An!" Haina stormed into the guild, radiating murderous intent. No one tolerated their personally raised cabbage being plucked by others!
In her eyes, Alan was that cabbage—and only she, Haina, could harvest him.
Startled from his memories, Alan shivered. "Haina, listen! Medi is my fiancée, yes, but she’s a victim too—like Emma. Deceived by that shameless old man in my family."
He spun around, rushing to explain. Haina’s temper burned as fiercely as her fire magic. Without instant clarity, she’d incinerate him as a heretic.
"That damn old man again! Doesn’t he know you’re my cabbage? Damn it! When he returns, I’ll burn his beard off!"
Haina believed him. She knew Alan well—he’d never chase girls. His focus was earning money to repay his hundred-thousand-gold-coin debt. No small sum.
Alan’s tense shoulders relaxed. For now, her fury had cooled.
"I saw the Forest Sprite Guild’s master here earlier. What did he want?" Haina walked behind the bar. Seeing glasses neatly arranged, she nodded in satisfaction.
"He came about the DarkMage issue. Resolved now."
"Oh! Right—the sixty-thousand-gold bounty for taking down DarkMages. You killed two, so forty thousand gold coins?" Her eyes sparkled. Forty thousand—quite a haul.
"Well, it was there. But the Arcane Academy’s old men took it."
Haina stared at him like he was an idiot. Taken by academy elders? Just go demand it back! Did she need to spell out such simple logic?
Alan instantly read her look. A bitter smile formed. "I can’t ask. You know why. As the academy’s youngest, most talented mage, those elders want me trapped there until I’m a hundred—dedicating my life to them."
He was certain they hoped he’d rush back to the academy so they could keep him forever.
"So you’re abandoning tens of thousands of gold coins? Alan! Choose—your freedom or the gold!"
"Freedom matters more! Besides, it’s just a few tens of thousands. I’ll earn it back fast!" He met her gaze, dark eyes brimming with confidence.
Haina facepalmed. She knew Alan like her own skin. His tone and expression screamed he wasn’t joking—he truly wouldn’t reclaim that gold.
She ignored his "mere tens of thousands" remark. Sure, it sounded small. But earning that much quickly? Only through murder, robbery, or selling divine artifacts or familiars.
Alan wouldn’t murder or rob. Selling artifacts? He had one—a rusty greatsword in the guild hall’s corner, a "gift" from some swordmaster. If rust counted as divine, weapon-sellers in town could skip forging and just peddle scrap.
Familiars? Heh. They weren’t pets but battle partners. No ordinary person would dare keep one.
So Alan’s boast about easy gold? Just words. Gold coins weren’t silver—they were hard-earned.
"Alan is amazing! Emma believes he’ll earn the gold!" Emma’s eyes sparkled with starry adoration. He cooked, he earned money—Grandpa, this was her fiancé. So capable!
"I believe you too, Alan," Bacas Medi said, smiling pleasantly. "But if you can’t earn it? No matter. I’ll rob rich merchants for you." Killing was off-limits, but robbery? She’d done it often when funds ran low. Her beauty alone could make men empty their fortunes for her.
