Startled by the intruder attempting to climb through the window, Pernas immediately shrieked, “Ah! Get away! Don’t touch this! Get down from the carriage! You’re disgusting!”

  “Outrageous! Butler! Butler!” Even the noblewoman inside widened her eyes, a trace of panic flashing across her face. “Quick, pull this audacious commoner down!”

  A slightly stout man in a butler’s uniform, sporting a curled mustache, leapt down from the driver’s seat, grabbed Glen by the trousers, and tugged with all his strength.

  Feeling his pants loosening, Glen decided to stop resisting and slid down gracefully.

  Landing squarely on his backside, he looked up at the panicked young lady above and laughed heartily, clutching his stomach.

  The plump butler’s face turned crimson. Seeing Glen rolling on the ground with laughter, his anger flared; he raised his fist, ready to strike.

  But a voice called from the carriage: “Hopps, leave him be. Return home at once.”

  Reluctantly, the butler shot a resentful glare at the laughing commoner, then resumed driving the carriage away.

  Inside, the noblewoman regained her usual composed demeanor. She cast a subtle glance at her daughter, whose cheeks were puffed like buns and lips protruding in a pout, and admonished, “Do not make such ungenteel expressions, Pernas. You are of noble birth; mind your manners and conduct.”

  “Yes, Mother.” Pernas reluctantly softened her expression, though her anger was still apparent.

  …

  After a bout of laughter on the ground, Glen wiped his eyes, stood, patted his backside, and resumed his journey.

  As he entered the outskirts of Bayek’s forest, a swirl of dust rose in the distance.

  A smile spread across Glen’s face; he knew Nightroar was approaching.

  Sure enough, a gust of wind swept over him as the one-eyed Nightroar barreled toward Glen’s face.

  Gently pushing the massive muzzle aside, Glen walked around the beast, speaking as he went: “How’s the pig feeding been lately? Any accidents?”

  “Awwooo…” Nightroar puffed its chest proudly, indicating all was well.

  “Good.” Glen nodded. “Let’s check the pigpen first.”

  As Nightroar had assured, the pigpen was intact, though the fodder was scattered haphazardly, giving a disordered appearance.

  Glen said nothing further. He was just pleased that Nightroar could handle the pigs responsibly.

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  Next, he approached a separate enclosure housing the captured elk-like creature, unsure how to deal with it.

  “Hm… it feels a shame to just slaughter you. Judging by your size, roughly the same as a horse, I wonder about your strength. Maybe… next time, you can pull the cart?”

  Glen stood by the fence, speaking as if to the creature, though perhaps he was speaking to himself.

  The elk ambled closer, thinking Glen was there to feed it, oblivious to his musings.

  Gently patting the creature’s head, Glen turned and walked toward the town.

  Just as he entered, he noticed a hunched figure in gray moving slowly ahead.

  Glen recognized this townsfolk—or rather, his previous self had—an elderly woman who had completely ignored him the last time he had attempted conversation.

  After several failed attempts, his former self had learned to silently respect the local custom and no longer addressed strangers.

  Glen paused briefly, then continued. As he passed the old woman, her eyes flicked toward him.

  Sensitive as he was, Glen noticed but remained expressionless, continuing on his path.

  Her gaze lingered until he entered a house, only then disappearing.

  “Did the old woman notice something? Could she have sensed I’m a werewolf? Quite possible…” Glen mused, stroking his chin as he opened the door.

  …

  Cheswino Town.

  Closer to the region’s main city, this town was larger and more bustling than Dud.

  Inside a club devoted to magical studies, in a mysteriously adorned room, the hunter-clad old man entered.

  “I’ve been waiting for you, Bor.”

  A woman in her forties, dressed in exquisite mage robes, her demeanor solemn yet her features delicate, set aside her book. Her voice was magnetic.

  “Good day, esteemed Lady Derfa.” The old man bowed respectfully.

  “Judging by your expression, you ran off again?” Lady Derfa asked, slightly exasperated.

  “Knowing you’d ask, I suppose you divined it already.” The old man sat on a nearby sofa, rifling through his backpack.

  “What a pity…” Derfa’s eyelids drooped slightly, betraying faint weariness.

  The old man placed several crumpled parchments on the table before her. “These are yours. I’ve verified them all—unsuccessful spells and formations are noted.”

  Derfa glanced casually, then looked aside. “Bor, heed my advice: let it go. I deeply regret your misfortune, but no one can live entirely in hatred…”

  “I choose to live in hatred. That is my decision. Lady Mage, you’ve never known the pain of losing family, so it’s easy for you to say.” The old man interrupted firmly.

  “Sigh…” Derfa exhaled deeply.

  “Regardless, I still thank you for pinpointing my enemy. I hold you no disrespect.” The old man added.

  “We’ve been old friends; it’s only natural.” Derfa waved lightly.

  Silence fell over the room.

  “His side has a fourth-tier dark mage.” After a moment, he said calmly.

  “What?!”

  Derfa’s eyes widened in disbelief. “A fourth-tier dark mage? How… how could there be one here? The fourth-tier dark mages of the Zane Kingdom should all be in the capital.”

  “I don’t know. But he seems newly fallen, and his dark spells still bear traces of orthodox magic.” The old man provided context.

  “Perhaps I should investigate recently missing fourth-tier mages.” Derfa’s expression darkened.

  She then asked, puzzled, “How did you escape a fourth-tier dark mage? That’s not…” She gestured at his chest. “Something like that isn’t enough.”

  “Heh…” The old man smiled faintly. “I hired a formidable enforcer.”

  “An enforcer capable of facing a fourth-tier mage? Where did you find one? The cost must have been high.” Derfa’s curiosity was piqued.

  “A troublesome youth. At first, I didn’t know he possessed… Heh—not just to resist, but the power to kill a fourth-tier mage.”

  “Kill?!”

  “Though the mage didn’t unleash his full strength, the youth’s power still exceeded that of a fourth-tier mage.”

  Derfa’s astonishment left her speechless for a long while.

  “As for the cost…” Finally, the old man broke the silence. “I gave him twenty silver coins.”