For someone promoted to branch manager, Thale, despite his best efforts had never been good at controlling his emotions.
It had followed him his entire life, dragging him into trouble more times than he could count. Fights in the streets, broken bones, broken rules—it had all blended together into a past that should have ended far worse than it did. If not for the unexpected mercy of the city lord, he would have been executed before he ever reached adulthood.
Instead, he had been given a different sentence.
Exile to the frontier.
Forced into the life of an adventurer.
At the time, he had thought it was nothing more than a delayed death.
Strangely enough, it had saved him.
Because Thale fit perfectly among adventurers.
They were a broken collection of people—those who didn't belong anywhere else. Too poor to apprentice under a trade. Too prideful to become thieves. Too low-born to ever be considered for knighthood. Too unruly to submit to the discipline of the clergy. Too uneducated to pursue scholarship.
And beyond that, there were those who simply refused to accept a life of mediocrity, or those who were too hungry to care what it cost them.
All of them ended up the same way.
Adventurers.
It wasn't the life people imagined when they were children. There were no grand tales of glory, no noble quests filled with honor and heroism. Most adventurers didn't travel to distant lands or slay legendary beasts.
Most of them fought just to survive.
Day after day, they risked their lives for coin barely enough to cover their next meal. Many died before they even learned how to properly wield a weapon. Those who did survive—those who endured—became something else entirely.
They became the unseen shield of the city.
They ventured beyond the walls to hunt the very creatures trained knights refused to face directly. They cleared roads, protected merchants, guarded trade routes, and ensured that farmers and travelers could move without vanishing into the wilds.
But, even those personally trained by the branch manager himself, were not free from the risk of death.
"That's why…"
Thale's hand tightened into a fist, his knuckles whitening as the tension built inside him.
Click.
The sound of the door opening cut through his thoughts, snapping the moment apart.
He exhaled slowly, forcing the tension out of his shoulders before turning.
"Tessa," he said, his voice steady but tight. "How did it go?"
She didn't answer immediately.
Instead, she walked past him, her steps calm and unhurried as she approached a shelf along the far wall. Three large crystal containers sat there, each filled with a dark brown liquid that caught the dim light of the room.
She removed the top from one and brought it closer, inhaling the scent briefly before nodding to herself. Without a word, she poured two glasses and carried them back over.
She handed one to him before taking a seat.
"You won't like my answer," she said.
Thale's grip tightened around the glass, the faint sound of cracking forming beneath his fingers as the pressure built again.
Tessa watched him for a moment before speaking.
"I don't believe the kid had anything to do with it."
Thale's eyes snapped to her, his expression sharpening.
"Explain."
She leaned forward slightly and placed the device on the table, angled toward Thale.
He didn't respond, but the tension in his shoulders remained as his gaze settled on the strange disk.
"I found this in a ruin," she said. "During a royal archaeological expedition."
She watched the dial spin.
Slowly, it began to settle—
Coming to rest just beneath the symbol of the knight.
Her eyes lingered on it for a moment.
A faint, wry smile touched her lips.
"I'm still not entirely sure how it works," she continued, lifting her glass for a small sip. "But I do know one thing."
She set the glass down.
"The boy isn't lying."
Thale frowned slightly. "What does that thing have to do with anything?"
This has never failed me… until today.
Tessa kept the thought to herself.
"Look, I'm not saying he's innocent," she said calmly. "But I am saying he's telling the truth—at least as far as he knows it."
She folded her hands in her lap.
"Memory can be altered. Removed. Broken. There are things in this world that can do far worse than what happened in that ruin."
Thale's eyes darkened.
"So what are you saying I should do?" he said. "Just sit here and wait for Celia?"
Tessa nodded once.
"Yes."
She leaned back slightly.
"She owes you a great deal, and I believe only she can give you the truth."
Thale exhaled slowly through his nose. As I looked to the floor dejected.
"Even at the earliest, she won't be able to leave for a few days."
Tessa lifted her glass again, taking another sip before glancing at him.
"And until then?" she asked. "What do you plan to do?"
Thale looked at her, something burning behind his eyes now—something steady and unshakable.
"I'm going to that ruin," he said. "I'll find out what happened myself."
Tessa studied him for a moment, then gave a small nod.
"That's probably for the best."
She stood, setting her glass down and collected her device as she turned to leave.
As he hand reached the door, she paused, glancing back over her shoulder.
"Despite what people say about you," she said, a faint hint of amusement in her voice, "you were meant to be a branch master."
Thale blinked slightly, caught off guard.
She let out a soft chuckle.
"Not everyone would care this much about the deaths of four adventurers," she continued. "But that's exactly why you're suited for the role."
She turned fully then opened the door.
"Get some rest," she added before stepping out and closing door closed behind her.
Silence settled over the room once more.
Thale stood there for a long moment, unmoving.
Then—
His hand tightened.
The glass in his grip shattered.
Fragments bit into his palm as dark liquid and blood spilled together, dripping slowly onto the carpet below.
His expression didn't change.
But his eyes—
They had gone cold.