Two years later, in Green Town's Mercenary Tavern.
In a corner booth, a young man who had long forgotten his former name—Houshao'nao—sat silently, staring dully at the magical notice board where glowing runes scrolled endlessly, updating with new quests. A few had been posted that morning.
"Hmm, this one requires a B-rank mercenary. Not for me. This needs a team of three or more. My rank fits, but who'd team up with me? Nope, not this either. Looks like another day of nothing," he murmured inwardly.
The board continued cycling, but no quest suited his hopes. Frustrated, he cursed under his breath: "Damn it, is there *any* task for me?"
While Houshao'nao fretted in his corner, mercenaries clustered around the bar chatted eagerly with guild staff, then left in groups, snatching up quests one by one. Watching his potential earnings vanish, his heart ached: *My coins, my lunch…*
After sighing for ages, he lay down on the bench and dozed off, dreaming he'd landed an absurdly easy quest with a 10,000-coin reward. In moments, he finished it, and the client showered him with gold. He cheered, diving into the pile and counting frantically…
Just as his dream self reveled in riches, a voice jolted him awake.
"Escort mission: D-rank, 20 mercenaries, all levels welcome. Bring your own transport, temporary team formation. Ten days to Mecca Town. 500 gold. Departs 3 PM."
"We'll take it," said a man from the "Genius Mercenary Group," a C-rank guild. Houshao'nao forgot the vice-captain's name—nothing memorable, unlike his own unforgettable moniker.
"Houshao'nao, come here. We're short on numbers. You're in."
*Why does this sound familiar? Like a recurring dream…* Rubbing his eyes, he stared at the speaker in disbelief.
"You! Did you hear me?"
"Yes, yes, Boss Jon. But I don't have transport," he recalled the man's name suddenly.
"No problem. Just be at the gate by 3 PM," Jon snapped impatiently.
Houshao'nao thrilled inwardly, counting: including himself, exactly 20 mercenaries remained in the hall. *Destiny!* he thought, ignoring Jon's mutterings. *One quest and I'll rank up from G to F!*
He rushed to request leave from Guild Master Kerry, who'd always looked out for him and even given him odd jobs. Knocking gently on the office door:
"Enter," Kerry called.
"Master Kerry," Houshao'nao bowed first, then spoke to the semi-bald man.
"Houshao'nao, what can I do for you?" Kerry set down his papers.
"I need to request leave, please. The Genius Mercenaries took the Mecca Town mission and invited me. It'll take about 20 days round-trip, and I agreed. We leave this afternoon."
"Ah! Mecca Town? The guild master there is an old friend. Can you deliver a letter for me?" Kerry perked up.
*Great, a free courier job,* Houshao'nao thought, his face betraying hesitation.
"Of course, I won't make it all work. I taught you fireball last time—how about ice blade this time?" Kerry guessed his thoughts; after all, they were both mercenaries.
"Really? I'll definitely complete the task!" Houshao'nao feigned enthusiasm at the promise of a new spell.
Kerry immediately began instructing him, then urged him to practice outdoors and seek help if needed.
After leaving the office, Houshao'nao wandered to a quiet corner. "Has my magic power recovered after all this time? Guess I'll try."
He chanted the incantation from memory, willed his magic to flow—but only a faint stir of air answered. Undeterred, he adjusted his technique, and finally, a tiny ice blade no bigger than a fingernail materialized, melting mid-air after a few feet.
Watching the water droplets hit the ground, he wondered: *It's only spring. Why teach me ice magic now? That water mage used to make Master Kerry cold drinks in summer. Did he leave, and now I'm the replacement? With this level? I'm doomed.*
His motivation vanished, and no more ice blades came.
"You're so clumsy!" a sweet voice chimed.
Without turning, he knew it was Betty, the 17-year-old daughter of Vice Guild Master Hilton.
"Miss Betty," he greeted quickly.
"Houshao'nao, what spell are you practicing? I saw you waving your hands from afar, but no magic. Stuck again?" Betty eyed him curiously.
Her "goodwill" always spelled trouble. Last time she "taught" fireball, she burned his eyebrows off. When he protested, she chased him with flaming orbs. A total brat. His head ached at the sight of her.
He lied: "Nothing, just swatting mosquitoes."
"Liar! No mosquitoes this time of year. Spill." Betty conjured a blazing fireball, a clear threat.
*Oh no, she's gonna burn me,* he panicked. Caving, he detailed Kerry's task, mimicking the master's tone—all while cursing himself: *Idiot, why say mosquitoes?*
"Heh, that's better. Can you use ice blade yet?" Betty preened, unapologetic about her bullying.
Houshao'nao sighed in relief as she dismissed the fireball. "Sorry, Miss Betty. Maybe it's too advanced for me."
"Advanced? It's a basic spell! You're just hopeless," she sneered, a routine insult.
"M-maybe I am. Please, Miss Betty, would you be so kind as to teach this fool?" he groveled, playing the fool.
"Ugh, fine. Since you're begging nicely. Watch: you do this…" Despite her bratty tone, Betty taught meticulously, correcting his gestures, even fixing his flawed incantation grammar—impressively knowledgeable.
An hour later, she tired: "Practice on your own. Ask me later if you're confused."
"Yes, yes! Thank you, Miss Betty, for sparing your precious time to guide thiss tupid people. I'll train hard and never forget your kindness…" He lavished praise until her pretty face lit up with satisfaction.
After she left, he exhaled deeply.
Elsewhere, Betty chatted with her father:
"Little Betty, why so happy today?" Hilton asked.
"Dad, I did a good deed! Taught that idiot Houshao'nao ice blade. Took *an hour*—I'm exhausted!"
"Really? A basic spell taking an hour? Even a pig would learn faster," Hilton teased.
"Dad! What do you mean? You doubt me?" Betty pouted.
"Of course not. He must be dumber than a pig," he chuckled.
"Hmph!" Betty turned away, ignoring him.
Somewhere else, Houshao'nao sneezed repeatedly.
"Who's cursing me? Did someone see through my trick? Heh, Miss Betty worked herself ragged today—explaining, demonstrating, even letting me hold her hand. Sorry, but you burned me last time…" he muttered, grinning slyly.