The bartender laughed. "Because the task is embarrassingly mundane. The academy's headmaster owns a dragon, and for reasons of pride, busyness, or sheer laziness, its pen needs daily cleaning. Got it?"
"Clean a dragon's pen? Gods, that sounds terrifying. Thanks for the info—goodbye." Houshao'nao turned to leave.
"Welcome back anytime!" she called after him.
"Well?" the donkey asked as he emerged.
"Sorted. Let's try the academy."
The donkey snorted, trudging after him. "Boss, you're either brave or brainless. They'll laugh us out."
Houshao'nao slapped its rump. "Shut up, or I'll sell you to the butcher."
The donkey clamped its mouth shut, fearing the worst.
At the academy gates, Houshao'nao's boot crossed a white line—*zap!*—lightning surged, throwing him back with a scream.
"Who's skipping class again? Gotcha!" a gruff voice barked. A bearded, disheveled man emerged from the bushes, zipping his pants.
"Ow! Who set a damn magic trap here?!" Houshao'nao cursed, scrambling up.
"Not a student. What's your business?" the man grunted.
Houshao'nao froze. *Gram? His old magic teacher?*
"Kid, cat got your tongue?" Gram snapped.
"N-no! I'm here to enroll." Houshao'nao ducked his gaze.
Gram frowned, scratching his beard. "Enroll? In what?"
"Wait—no, I need to see the headmaster."
"The old codger? What for?"
"You… you called him a codger? Aren't you scared of retaliation?"
"Scared? Pah! He made *me*, Grand Mage Gram, guard the gate because I drank his wine stash. Idiot."
"Really *are* you Gram?" Houshao'nao whispered.
"Yep. You know me?"
"Your fame reached my hometown, (Wineer). Though I heard you didn't used to have a beard."
"Ah, that! Lost a bet to my idiot pupil, Gris. Haven't seen him in years. You know him?"
*Gods, he's my teacher. How do I explain what happened?* "He's a local hero, but I haven't seen him either." Houshao'nao forced a smile.
Gram snorted. "Name?"
" (Back-of-the-Head)."
"HA! Ridiculous name." Gram cackled.
*Same old (temper),* Houshao'nao sighed inwardly.
Gram sobered. "Even so, no entry without papers."
"Please—"
"Nope."
"I… I need to discuss his 'task'," Houshao'nao lied.
"Task? The dragon pen? Your predecessor got crushed by that old sow two months ago. Still bedridden."
"A *female* dragon?" the donkey muttered, munching grass.
"Terrifying!" Houshao'nao paled.
Gram shrugged. "Still want to see him?"
Grimacing, Houshao'nao nodded. "Yes."
"Top of the hill, that lone building. Go." Gram snapped his fingers, disabling the barrier.
The academy buzzed with distant explosions and magic auras, but students were scarce—class time. Professors glanced at Houshao'nao before moving on.
At the hilltop building, he left the donkey in the grass and entered, feeling eyes on him.
"Lost, young man? Fourth door upstairs, left turn," a booming voice echoed.
"Who are you?"
"Headmaster."
"Perfect! I need—"
"Up here. Busy, though."
Houshao'nao climbed, into a lab that defied space—vast, cluttered, filled with magical contraptions.
"Space magic?" he blurted.
"Ah, you know of it? Rare these days. What do you want?"
"Just… heard of it. Where are you?"
"Forward. Ignore illusions. I'm experimenting."
He walked through a "table" that split around him, a "pond" that rippled and vanished.
"Amazing," he breathed.
"Wait for the best part," the headmaster chuckled.
A mirror showed his reflection advancing. Trusting his instincts, he walked into it—*smack!*—colliding with solid glass.
"HAHA! Space magic: tricks the eye," the headmaster laughed, materializing as a gaunt, white-bearded man.
Houshao'nao rubbed his forehead. "Got it. Can we talk?"
The headmaster studied him as Houshao'nao handed over the empty envelope. "What's this?"
"Sir, my acceptance letter was stolen. Has anyone new enrolled lately?"
The headmaster scanned him, shaking his head. "All freshmen arrived two months ago. You've been fooled, lad."
Houshao'nao's heart sank. *Dier… you took everything.*
"Wait—" the headmaster paused, eyeing his tattered clothes. "You're desperate, aren't you? No home, no coin?"
"…Yes, sir."
"Hmm. We need a dragon pen cleaner. Dangerous, but room and board included. Interested?"
Houshao'nao paled, recalling Gram's warning. "What's the catch?"
"The dragon's name is *Beryl*. She's… particular about cleanliness. Fail, and she'll roast you. Succeed, and you stay. Deal?"
He hesitated, then nodded. *What choice do I have?*
"Good. Report to Gram at the gates. He'll show you the pen." The headmaster waved a hand, and the room rippled back to its tiny, ordinary self.
Outside, the donkey stared as Houshao'nao approached, shoulders slumped.
"Boss? You look like death."
"Got the job. Cleaning a dragon's pen."
"*What?!*"
"Shut up. At least we have a roof. And maybe… Dier's here. I'll find her."
The donkey groaned. "You're obsessed with that elf. She probably sold your letter to buy jewelry."
"Maybe. But I'll find her. Even if Beryl roasts me first."
They trudged back to the gates, Gram snickering at their plight. Up ahead, the dragon pen loomed, smoke curling from its roof—ominous, but Houshao'nao squared his shoulders.
*Dier, wherever you are—watch out. I'm coming. And I'll uncover every secret you're hiding.*
And so he began, a servant once more, but this time in the belly of the beast—Aifar Academy—where magic whispered, secrets lurked, and the girl with the ruby necklace walked its halls, ignorant of the storm she'd unleashed.
The stage was set. The dragon waited. And in the shadows, Gram watched, stroking his beard—*Gris, my boy… what have you gotten yourself into now?*