🔊 TTS Settings
Chapter 22
After working for quite some time, the sun was setting and it felt about time for dinner when unexpected guests suddenly barged in.
Hearing the doorbell, Mireia opened the door with a puzzled look—only to see Paulo standing there with a bottle of liquor. She immediately tried to close the door again. But Paulo shoved the bottle into the crack and shouted desperately.
“Hey, hey, hey, wait! It’s an order—open up!”
“Sephiros sent us here!”
There was a struggle between the one trying to close the door and the one trying to open it. The overwhelming difference in physical strength sided with Paulo, and the door was forced open. Behind him, two more faces popped out—Shio and Laila. Smiling brightly, they waved at Mireia and followed Paulo straight inside.
“Why did you come? And without warning, all at once like this?”
Mireia scowled in displeasure, but Shio shoved a takeout box into her hands, still warm and smelling delicious.
“I brought fried chicken.”
“Don’t need it.”
“There’s beer, too.”
“I said I don’t need it.”
“Hello! We just saw each other yesterday, but have you been well since then?”
Ignoring Mireia’s protests, the three greeted Aris, who had stepped out looking bewildered. To Aris, who’d been dragged all the way to Rashvalen by these very people, their sudden intrusion felt like the start of another mess. He was already preparing to bolt if necessary.
“Is everything comfortable here?”
“Have you eaten dinner yet?”
The flood of overly friendly questions made Aris uneasy, but before he could answer, Mireia cut them off, yelling:
“Tell Sephiros I’m fine! I mean it—I’m really fine, so tell him not to worry about me!”
“He didn’t send us, you know?”
Nodding to Laila’s words, Paulo smirked arrogantly.
“You think I just go and come whenever the Chairman orders me to, all because of your problems?”
Aris thought silently: Wouldn’t it be more of a problem not to follow your superior’s orders?
“So don’t worry. Like you said, we won’t be bothering about you.”
“Then why are you here?!”
“To drink.”
“Why drink here? Did Kadi unni even give you permission?”
“My beloved wife is generous. She’s happier when I’m out of the way. And besides, we can use this chance for a little welcome party for him.”
Suddenly being dragged into the conversation, Aris blinked in surprise.
“Huh?”
“Welcome to the Rashvalen Guild, Ludekias!”
Timed with Laila’s cheer, Shio popped a party cracker.
“And belatedly—happy birthday!”
Colorful confetti fluttered down over Aris’s head. Brushing it off, he asked again in disbelief:
“What? Birthday?”
At that word, Mireia—who had been bickering with Paulo—counted the dates and smacked her forehead.
“March 13th…! That means your birthday was yesterday!”
Yes, Aris’s birthday was March 12. Unfortunately, the day he’d been practically abducted into Rashvalen had coincided with it.
“How do you even know that?!”
“We looked through your personal details during the background check, of course. Birthdate is easy to remember.”
Mireia said it like it was obvious, then looked at him with a genuinely apologetic face.
“Yesterday was too hectic. I forgot. You should’ve said something.”
“Honestly, I’d forgotten too. I haven’t celebrated in years…”
“Then it’s decided—welcome party and birthday celebration! You’ve started working here, so we should help you get settled in. That’s how we live—helping each other.”
“No matter the reason, this all smells fishy. Just get out.”
Aris was already thinking of running away again when Mireia smiled and stuck up her middle finger at Paulo. But Paulo only grinned back, grabbed her finger, and bent it the wrong way.
“If you don’t like chicken, we also brought skewers. Didn’t know what you’d prefer, so we bought a whole variety. Not sure what people in Ruad usually eat on birthdays, so I figured it’s better to give options.”
As Mireia yelped in pain, Shio and Laila latched onto Aris’s arms and half-dragged him inside. He thought grimly: If meddling like this keeps up, I’ll have to refuse Sephiros’s offer for sure.
“Do you drink? Ah, right—we didn’t properly introduce ourselves yesterday. I’m Shio Midor, Mireia’s senior from the combat division.”
The man introducing himself as Shio was very tall, with light sky-blue hair and gray eyes that gave a laid-back impression.
“And I’m Laila Furblkins, from the technology division. I’ll be your personal magitech engineer.”
Aris freed himself from their grips and frowned.
“Since when do I need a personal engineer?”
“To adapt machinery to your mana output, I’ll need your help with tests and research… I mean, you’ll need to help me.”
Aris caught a fleetingly familiar expression flash across her face—the same one he’d seen the other day. It gave him chills. If he got entangled with her, she’d probably drain him to the last drop of mana.
“I haven’t agreed to anything yet.”
“Not yet, but you will in a few days. That’s as good as a yes, isn’t it?”
“I think I should make it clear that refusing is still an option.”
“Can you really refuse? Will you?”
“I can’t promise either way.”
“Then let’s bet. I say you’ll accept.”
Shio draped an arm casually over Aris’s shoulder. Though Aris wasn’t short, Shio was so tall that his arm rested there as if it were a chair.
“Then I’ll bet on refusal.”
Laila pouted at Shio.
“Shouldn’t you want him to accept? Why bet against it?”
“Look at his face. He’s annoyed because of Shio’s bad habit again. How many times have I told you? Other people’s shoulders aren’t your armrest. He’ll reject just because of you.”
Realizing what he’d done, Shio quickly removed his arm and apologized.
“That’s why we should quickly feed him good food and drinks—to win him over.”
Paulo, meanwhile, had Mireia locked under one arm, shaking the bottle in the other.
“Let go! Damn it! Let me go!”
She struggled until he tightened his hold around her neck, and she gave up, dragged along helplessly.
“Don’t give me that look. It won’t kill you. Smells great, doesn’t it? Just a little won’t hurt.”
Aris cursed inwardly. Clearly, avoiding this mess wasn’t possible.
Paulo headed straight to the dining room, unpacked the food and drinks, and arranged everything like it was his own house. He moved with such ease it was as if he already knew the place inside out.
Freed from Paulo’s grip, Mireia ruffled her messy hair in frustration.
“So you really weren’t sent by Seph?”
“I told you already. And why shouldn’t I come here?”
Mireia’s face darkened, and she fell silent.
“Suit yourself, then.”
With a victor’s grin, Paulo seated Aris at the head of the table.
“Now, then—welcome party and birthday celebration for Ludekias—”
“Stop using that as an excuse for drinking. And he doesn’t like being called by his full name. Call him Aris.”
Grumbling, Mireia plopped into a chair.
“Oh, thank god. That name’s so long I almost bite my tongue trying to say it.”
Shio’s blunt honesty made Aris chuckle.
“On that point at least, I agree with you.”
He gave up resisting. Truthfully, he’d been giving things up one by one these past few days. But this time, he felt real despair.
Aris only wanted a quiet life. He hated hassle. Yet in twenty-two years, he’d faced more crises than most people saw in a lifetime. That was why he’d hidden away for six months, in a place no one could find him. And yet, here he was again, dragged back into the mess.
Run, and they chase you. Hide, and they drag you out. Do nothing, and the world still blames you. He was sick of it. Even thinking about where to run next was exhausting.
And with his uncle sitting on the imperial throne, it was only a matter of time before his head parted from his body. He had no intention of dying like that. Living felt like a burden, but dying would make all his struggles meaningless.
So perhaps… if this was the chance, he should crush everything that annoyed him once and for all. He already had precedent. Once, when a nation tried to kill him, he slaughtered them all and purged them in blood. After that, nothing else seemed so hard.
Everything disgusted him. Let the world burn. It was already half ruined—let it fall apart completely.
With such thoughts, Aris watched the scene before him: people pouring drinks and laughing, as if this were a party. Mireia grabbed a beer mug with a scowl.
“Seriously. If you were going to crash a party, you could’ve brought something better. You call this a birthday celebration, and not even draft beer?”
“Paul Pordy, 30 years.”
Paulo thumped a fancy-looking bottle onto the table. Mireia’s eyes instantly lit up.
“Thank you, Captain Lima!”
Following her cheer, Shio clasped his hands and looked at Paulo with genuine admiration.
“Captain, I love you.”
