“One paper.”

“Here ya go.”

I bought a newspaper from the stand outside the station.

The price was cheap, and so was the quality of the reporting.

It was nothing but a yellow rag obsessed with sensational language and salacious gossip.

Still, there was always demand for such papers.

Major dailies—those that followed power—only printed articles palatable to their patrons.

But the yellow press had no such restraint.

That’s why, amidst all the lies and street rumors, you sometimes stumbled on the truth.

—Savage City Persio Breaks Accord with Gellerg City. Drums of War in the Air?

‘As expected, it’s coming up now.’

Persio, the city to the south, was nicknamed the Savage City for good reason.

Their diplomacy had no principles, and they were quick to wage war.

War between Gellerg City and Persio was inevitable.

The spark would be the impulsive murder of Persio’s envoy during negotiations.

It was one of the mainline world quests—an arc that would drag the whole continent into war.

‘Not something a contractor like me should meddle in…’

Unless I planned to make my name as a war mercenary, it didn’t concern me.

But the makeup of the delegation sent to negotiate with Persio—that did interest me.

‘The chief negotiator was an elf.’

In the photos of the broken talks, one figure with pointed ears stood out.

Graceful features, lofty bearing, flowing garb—unmistakably elven.

Born magicians and acknowledged aristocrats.

With their dwindling numbers, their faces were rarely seen.

And they almost never left their residences in District 1, moving through District 2 only under heavy guard.

‘Come to think of it, I’ve barely ever faced an elf myself.’

Their only true settlement was here, in Gellerg City, the melting pot of races.

The noble quarter of District 1 was an obstacle enough, and they rejected any social contact that didn’t meet their strict standards.

If you weren’t a fellow noble, a council member, or a high-ranking corporate magnate, meeting them was near impossible.

‘And royalty, of all things.’

Even in that insular culture, the elven royal line was shrouded in secrecy.

As far as I knew, no elven royal had ever shown their face in public.

Among players, there had even been rumors that “royalty” was just dummy data left in the files.

‘Still, it makes sense. You’d need that kind of status to get intel on spirit cocoons.’

If the cocoons were tied to Centrim, then only someone on that level could play at the same table.

‘But why take that path…?’

In the game’s storyline, there had never been a scenario where elves and megacorps openly clashed.

They’d already secured noble standing—why suddenly front as an environmental group and stir conflict?

‘A personal rebellion?’

Nothing came to mind.

‘Chances of meeting me again are slim.’

Drexier had already passed on the message.

Out of nowhere, even they had lost contact.

Considering her extraordinary status, it was only a matter of time.

A royal sneaking around the slums—if her attendants ever found out, they’d have a fit.

It was just bad timing.

And of all times, now…

‘No helping it.’

I decided not to dwell on disappointment.

There was no longer any need to cling to Greenwood.

Just uncovering her identity had been a huge gain.

‘I’ll cross paths with elves again if I keep taking black contracts.’

The secret jobs tended to come from the upper echelons.

‘Leave the elf business aside…’

My immediate concern was different.

「Have the World Tree meet its final growth condition!」

「Condition Missing: The Endless Spring」

The Endless Spring.

I scowled.

Honestly, I had no idea what that meant.

‘I’ve never even heard of it.’

Did such a spring actually exist in the world? Or was it a metaphor?

Unlike the other clear-cut conditions, this one was maddeningly vague.

‘If only I had access to the Tower’s knowledge exchange again.’

That place had given me clues before—like when I’d first searched for information on the World Tree.

But the last ID I’d used was no longer valid.

I’d need a new one, or some legitimate credentials.

Sending Sage to the Mage Tower would solve the problem, but…

‘I can’t just hand her off to anyone.’

She was guaranteed talent, a gem with limitless potential.

She’d manage fine on her own, but with proper education, she could soar even higher.

The trouble was, among the Tower’s eccentric mages, few had both skill and character.

To entrust her to someone reliable was rarer than winning the lottery—

“Um, excuse me… You’re Allen, right?”

“…?”

“Y-you remember me? I-I’m Lailla. We worked together before.”

Someone had approached me.

A gloomy figure with messy hair, hiding half her face, stammering nervously.

Her name sparked recognition—along with her circumstances.

“…Found you.”

“H-huh?”

Yes.

I’d found the perfect candidate.

“I-it’s been a while. You’ve been well, right? I-I worried a lot.”

Lailla—the mage I’d once worked with on Hattig’s Brotherhood 102 branch commission.

She fidgeted with her hair and gave me an awkward smile.

“I’m so sorry for running away back then. I should have stayed, but…”

“I told you to go. You’d only have been in the way. I’m fine.”

She peeked at me with guilty eyes, twisting her fingers.

She didn’t need to. I held no grudge.

Unlike Collad or Number 21, she had genuinely tried to help.

Her lack of ability wasn’t something worth condemning.

“How have you been since?”

“I-I’ve just been studying magic at home. The Brotherhood kicked me out. Time passed, and thankfully the misunderstanding was cleared up, but I’ve been careful not to draw attention.”

Just as Hattig had told me—they’d shown her leniency.

“Do you know what happened to Collad and Number 21?”

“I heard Collad was captured… and Number 21’s whereabouts are still unknown.”

Half-success.

It would’ve been nice if both had been taken down, but I hadn’t expected much of Number 21 anyway.

His forte was scouting—slipping pursuit would be child’s play for him.

Hell, I still wasn’t even sure he was fully human.

Hard for a mere Brotherhood branch to chase down something like that.

“Even if you say you’re fine, I still feel guilty. If you ever need help, let me know.”

“You?”

The words slipped out before I could stop them.

She realized what I meant and added quickly:

“I-I won’t be dead weight this time! My skills have improved, and these—these are all high-grade items that boost mana and assist with spellcasting!”

She did look different.

Her robe was neat, her hat properly fitted, and she held a wand to her chest.

All of it beyond factory-made quality.

If what she said about their effects was true, the lot of it was worth months of rent.

And speaking of rent—the hotel prices were starting to grate on me.

If I’d had that much cash, I could’ve already put it toward a place of my own…

“…Then how about lending me some money?”

“H-huh? H-how much do you need?”

“…I’m joking.”

So he agreed.

I’d only teased her for a moment, but Lailla had taken it seriously.

She glanced at me, then whispered in a tiny voice:

“If… if it’s for Master, I’d even lend it.”

“I told you to forget it. Wait—Master?”

“Y-yes. I’ve decided to serve him properly now.”

“…Is that so.”

No true mage takes disciples lightly.

And for mages—where talent determines everything—it’s even rarer.

For someone to accept Lailla, who’d started late and without proper training, spoke volumes of his character.

Which meant Sage would be safe with him.

“Just give me your master’s whereabouts, then.”

Though she’d said she could manage anything, Lailla’s face tightened with suspicion.

“My master? Why?”

“I want to introduce him to someone.”

“O-oh… like how he took me in?”

“She’s young, and it would be a waste to let her talent rot.”

After all, this was a rough diamond destined to be a future Tower Lord.

Lailla’s face lit up as she nodded.

“If that’s it, then no problem! Master will be delighted. I’ll take responsibility and help.”

“By the way, what’s his name?”

“Colin Shieger.”

“…Colin.”

A name I knew.

Of course. If anyone would take on a disciple as charity, it’d be him.

He’d been at the top of my own candidate list for mages I might entrust Sag to.

I hadn’t expected to meet him like this, though.

The Wanderer Colin—third disciple of the current Tower Lord, a pillar of the Juggernaut School, and a high-ranking officer of the Mage Tower.

A giant, in every sense.

That evening, Sage and I headed to Lailla’s home.

“Hahh… hahh…”

Her shallow breathing tickled my arm.

Sage’s fault.

From the moment we left the hotel until now, she’d been unable to contain her excitement.

“Relax. It’s nothing serious.”

“Nothing serious?!”

Sage, unusually, snapped.

Then, realizing herself, she shrank her voice and glanced up at me.

“You said he’s a Mage Tower wizard. How is that nothing serious?”

“I told you, I’d get you into the Tower.”

“That was just a few days ago! I didn’t even have time to prepare, and now you’ve already set this up…”

She muttered under her breath, then gripped my collar and tugged hard.

“What should I do?”

“They’ll judge you themselves. Just be as you are.”

“Really? Don’t I need to make a good impression?”

“You’re not putting on a noble’s gown and pretending to be some debutante. Stop worrying.”

“I… suppose…”

Colin was called the Wanderer

for a reason—he was a vagabond sage.

That wanderlust made him one of the Tower’s few remaining decent human beings.

Unlike the rest, who locked themselves in study and turned into bitter fossils.

If anything, he’d dislike anyone trying too hard to impress him.

If he’d wanted refined, noble pupils, he never would have taken in so many like Lailla.

“Just show him your true self.”

The thought of rejection never crossed my mind.

Sage was still an uncut gem.

Anyone who glimpsed even a fragment of that brilliance would covet it.

Before long, we arrived.

A shabby second-floor flat in an old villa—Lailla’s place.

Knock knock.

The moment I raised my hand, Lailla stiffened so badly she clutched at mine.

Soon the door opened.

“Ah, welcome.”

“…You wear that at home too?”

She was in the same full mage’s outfit from earlier.

Couldn’t be comfortable. I knew from experience that a mage’s garb was impractical even outdoors.

Wearing it around the house was self-torture.

“Well, um… I sold everything else to buy this, so…”

She laughed awkwardly, trying to deflect.

“You even sold your regular clothes?”

“…I know it was stupid, but it came out just right.”

So that’s why she’d reacted when I asked for money earlier.

Either guilt—or pure naïveté.

“A-anyway, is this the girl?”

“Yes.”

Sage gripped my hand tight, silently asking if this was the one.

I shook my head. She relaxed and introduced herself.

“Hello. I’m Sage Dailoper.”

“Ah, y-yeah. H-hello. I’m Lailla.”

The adult seemed more nervous than the child.

Seeing her fluster, I cut in.

“Your master’s inside?”

“Y-yes, come in.”

She stepped aside politely.

Despite her gloomy look, the house was spotless.

Not a rushed cleanup—clearly her usual standard.

“…”

In the center of the living room sat a middle-aged man.

They say a face shows the marks of a life lived.

His rough, unkempt beard, broad shoulders, and angular face looked more like a seasoned adventurer than a mage.

The Wanderer Colin. Younger than I remembered, but unmistakably him.

“Hm.”

His sharp mage’s eyes locked onto us.

Sage, realizing this was the man, grew tense again.

“Hmmm.”

That guttural hum of his alone was enough to make one shrink back.

No doubt it was the grim expression—not fit for children—that made it worse.

Even Lailla, cowed by the chill, tried to lighten the mood.

“Um, Master. This is the girl.”

“…Hmph.”

After all her fretting, Sage stepped forward with surprising courage, refusing to back down.

“H-hello, I’m Sage Dailoper—”

“Passed.”

“…What?”

“You’ve passed.”

Colin grinned, flashing a gold tooth.

He probably thought it was a friendly smile.

But to be honest, it looked more like a bandit’s.

(End of Chapter)