An hour passed.
The child stirred on the glowing bed. Her breath was steady now. Eyes half-lidded, limbs stiff, but she sat up.
She looked around slowly—warm light, strangers, strange smells, a thousand soft sounds layered in quiet magic.
Then her gaze landed on the black-haired man at the counter.
She climbed down, legs still weak. Before she could fall, the hobgoblin was already there, silent and quick. He lifted her gently, placing her on one of the stools at the bar.
The guild master leaned in, voice soft.
"Member or customer?"
She raised a tiny hand and turned her wrist.
A red tattoo shimmered faintly there.
The man tapped it once. A glow pulsed under his finger, subtle but unmistakable.
"Hmm… Felix's granddaughter?"
She nodded.
"Tell me."
She hesitated. Her lips trembled. But then the words came. Fast. Raw.
"My village… Mansora. South of here. Small. Hidden. I lived with Papa and Grandpa. Mama always smiled. Grandpa said I had the 'sense.' Called me a Seeker when I was five."
The man didn't interrupt.
"Last month, Papa and Grandpa found a Gate in the jungle. Red glow. Red-Rank, they said—too dangerous to mess with. They went to report it."
Her voice cracked slightly.
"They never came back."
The air shifted around the bar. Just a little. Just enough.
"Mama waited a week. Then we went into the jungle ourselves. Found blood near the Gate. Mama cried all night. Then she remembered what Grandpa said…"
She held out her wrist again.
"'If anything goes wrong, take the mark. Find the Everlasting Guild.'"
"So we walked. For three weeks. Through jungle. Roads. Hiding from soldiers. From monsters. Starving."
She took a breath.
"Then we reached the capital gate."
Everything in the tavern tensed. Quiet, but absolute.
"They said we weren't on the list. The gatekeeper saw Mama. He smiled."
She stopped talking. Her hands gripped the edge of the counter.
"He said… she was pretty. That they'd 'play' with her. Mama screamed. They hit her. I bit his arm. He kicked me. Said if I wanted her back… bring ten gold coins. Or they'd sell me too."
Her voice dropped.
"So I ran. I ran and followed the mark. It glowed… like it knew where to go."
She looked up, barely above a whisper now.
"Please, master… please save my Mama…"
The entire tavern stopped.
The red-haired woman paused mid-puff and clenched her pipe between her teeth.
The slime went silent.
The halflings froze. The dwarves too. Not a clink from the forge-box.
Even Lao slowly set down his wine glass, his dead eyes locked on the girl.
Then—
Crack.
A stool shattered beside her. One of the royal guards, his fist still clenched, stood over the wreckage.
"Filth…" he muttered.
His hand shook. Eyes burning.
Charles didn't speak. His aura leaked slightly—barely—but it was sharp. Cold.
The Emperor of the Continent. Silent. Livid.
The guild master stood slowly.
"What's your name?"
She hesitated. "...Lina."
He placed a hand on her shoulder—light, but steady.
"Lina. You did well. I'll get your mother back."
His voice didn't rise. Didn't falter.
"You have my word."