The next day, Houshao'nao was summoned to Master Sheffield's office.
"Been adjusting well these days, Houshao'nao?" Sheffield asked.
*"Odd. Why's he asking? A raise?"* Houshao'nao wondered, bowing politely. "Thank you for your concern, Master. I've been quite comfortable."
*"Of course—Anna's gone, no one's bullying you,"* Sheffield smirked inwardly. Aloud: "Good, good. So, any plans for the future?"
Houshao'nao frowned, puzzled. "Plans, Master? I just aim to do my duties well. Haven't thought beyond that."
Sheffield's head ached. *"Subtlety's lost on him."* "Man should strive for more, Houshao'nao. Don't you want to improve your lot in life?"
"Improve? Does that mean I don't have to sleep in the stable?" Houshao'nao brightened.
Sheffield nearly choked, stifling a laugh. "No, not that. I mean… higher ambitions. Fame, respect—"
"Respect? Oh! When the steward retires, could I replace him? I'd manage your estate better than—"
Sheffield massaged his temples, cutting him off. "Houshao'nao, are you truly this dense? I'm talking about *greatness*—making a name for yourself!"
"Greatness? No thanks. Famous people attract trouble, like pigs attract butchers." Houshao'nao shook his head.
Sheffield wanted to bang his head on the wall, face pale with frustration. Houshao'nao misread his silence, shoulders slumping. "I understand, Master. If you no longer need me, I'll leave."
Sheffield avoided his gaze, pulling out a gilded envelope. "Wait. This is an Aifar Magic Academy acceptance letter. A friend's son passed away, and he wants someone to fulfill his legacy. You understand?"
"You want me to be his dead son?" Houshao'nao gaped.
Sheffield laughed, eyes sharp. "No, you'd attend the academy. You lack magic now, but training could change that. A rare opportunity—think carefully."
*"Rare? What good is training when a dragon's curse blocks my magic?"* Houshao'nao scoffed inwardly, shaking his head. "Thank you, Master, but magic isn't for me." He turned to leave.
"Where are you going?" Sheffield snapped.
"(Leave), Master. Since I'm no longer needed."
Sheffield slumped, staring at the letter. *"Why reject a chance to escape servitude?"*
The door slammed open; Giles waddled in, eyes landing on the letter. "Failed? Impossible! What now?"
"Now? I'll up the reward. Maybe someone—"
"Let Anna handle it—"
"She's my daughter, Giles! Not a pawn. Your son, then?" Sheffield snarled, calming only when Giles shrank back.
The updated mission baffled mercenaries with its odd requirements, but Dier lingered, piecing together the clues. *"Houshao'nao fits every condition."*
"Master, is Houshao'nao here?" she asked timidly.
"Gone. For good," Sheffield lied, tone icy.
Dier raced outside, finding Houshao'nao arguing with the donkey about leaving. "Stop! Your elf friend's here," the donkey brayed.
"Dier? What's wrong?" Houshao'nao asked.
"Are you really leaving?" she panted, grabbing his hand.
"Master wants me gone. I have no choice."
"But… there's a mission for you. Perfect for you."
Intrigued, he followed her to the guild board, eyes widening at the post: *"10,000 gold. Male, 16-18, weak magic potential, non-threatening appearance. Invisible mission—details upon acceptance."*
"You see? It's *you*," Dier whispered.
"Where's the client?"
"Ask Master Sheffield."
Hesitant, Houshao'nao let Dier lead him back. Sheffield's cold demeanor melted at the sight of him, and soon, Dier slipped away, leaving them alone.
"Mercenary Houshao'nao," Sheffield said warmly, "may I see your license?"
Houshao'nao handed over a near-mint license—unusual for a mercenary. Sheffield opened it, stifling a laugh at the single entry: *"Escort caravan to Mecca Town, one month ago."*
"Qualified?" Houshao'nao asked nervously.
"Qualifications don't matter. This mission needs *you*."
Houshao'nao stood abruptly. "So I can take it?"
"Congratulations. Here's the client's address. Speed is key." Sheffield handed him an envelope, omitting the part about the client being a lie—*he* was the real employer.
"Wait—don't you explain the mission?"
Sheffield feigned surprise. "Ah, right! An 'invisible mission' means the client prefers secrecy. You'll learn details upon arrival."
Houshao'nao nodded, clueless that this "client" was a ruse, that the real goal was hunting a girl with a blood-red necklace, or that his life was about to spiral into a world of magic, lies, and a destiny he couldn't escape—all because a desperate father, a scheming merchant, and a cursed dragon in a donkey's body needed a pawn.
Somewhere, the donkey kicked at its stall, sensing the storm ahead. Somewhere, Dier pressed a hand to her chest, where a faint blue mark pulsed—the mark of an elven princess on the run, unaware her "friend" held the key to her past. And somewhere, Anna scrawled a letter home, complaining about her new roommate… but pausing to sketch a certain boy with a lopsided grin and a lump on his head.
The pawn had moved. The game had begun. And in the shadows, the (VIP) clenched his *Blood Bond* necklace, unaware the pieces were finally falling into place—all thanks to a boy who'd rather clean stables than chase glory, yet now held a ticket to a destiny he'd never asked for.