Michael stepped out of his room.

When he descended the stairs, he was met with a familiar face.

“Master Yuan?”

Michael found Master Yuan seated calmly, his back straight, his long robes immaculate.

It was a familiar and the only personal attendant of Mage Lian that Michael knew

What surprised Michael wasn’t his presence but his timing.

He had given Mage Lian his address during their last conversation, so it made sense that they could find him.

But why now?

Had something happened.

The moment Master Yuan saw him, the older man rose from his seat with grace that betrayed years of disciplined training.

“Sir Mic,” Master Yuan greeted with a respectful bow.

Michael blinked. “Master Yuan,” he returned the nod. “Is there a reason for the visit?”

The old man clasped his hands. “The Grand Mage requests your presence.”

Michael’s brow furrowed.

He kept his voice calm. “Did he say what it’s about?”

Master Yuan shook his head. “Only that it is urgent… and that it concerns the coming days.”

That could mean anything.

“I’ll need a few minutes,” he said, glancing upstairs. “Please wait.

Master Yuan inclined his head. “Of course.”

Michael returned to his room and shut the door behind him.

He didn’t waste a second.

Michael moved with practiced speed, stripping out of his sleep-wrinkled clothes and heading straight to the wash basin.

The water was cold, but he welcomed it. He scrubbed himself clean, from his face to his arms.

The process didn’t take long. In under five minutes, Michael was toweling off, already planning what to wear.

Despite their relationship, Michael knew the importance of appearances.

The Grand Mage might’ve requested his presence, but Michael would not show up looking anything less than composed.

Michael robes, when he emerged from his small wardrobe, were black and gold—new and neatly pressed. He tied the sash tightly around his waist, adjusted the cuffs, and straightened the collar with one sharp tug.

He paused before the mirror and ran a comb through his still-damp hair.

His reflection stared back at him: young, calm, and composed…

The final touch came in the form of a small bottle.

A few dabs of the perfume on his neck and wrists, and a small spritz into the air that he walked through, left him smelling of subtle sandalwood and citrus.

He gave himself one last look. Polished. Presentable. Capable.

Then he exhaled.

With his preparations complete, he returned downstairs. Master Yuan was still seated, patient as ever.

The old man’s eyes flicked over Michael’s new appearance, and though he said nothing, the faint lift of his brow showed approval.

Michael gave a polite nod. “Let’s not keep him waiting.”

“Yes, Sir Mic.”

Master Yuan didn’t say much on the way.

When they arrived at the tall, doors of the Grand Mage’s study, Yuan knocked once, then stepped aside.

The door opened with a soft creak, and Mage Lian’s voice called out from within. “Come in.”

Michael stepped inside.

As always, the study was warm, with shelves stretching high into the walls, each one brimming with old tomes, scrolls, and strange artifacts.

Mage Lian was seated behind his darkwood desk, surrounded by a haze of faint magical glow.

He looked up the moment Michael entered and smiled. “Sir Mic. How was the journey?”

Michael bowed slightly. “Smooth, Grand Mage. The weather is nice.”

Mage Lian nodded and looked toward Master Yuan. “Thank you, Yuan. You may wait outside.”

The old man bowed once, then turned and left, pulling the door shut behind him.

Michael approached the desk and waited.

Mage Lian gestured toward the chair across from him. “Sit. We have three things to discuss.”

Michael sat, straight-backed. His mind already racing through possibilities.

“The first,” Mage Lian said, reaching into a drawer, “is your payment from the mountain apes hunt.”

He placed a brown pouch on the table. It landed with a surprising weight. Michael blinked as he untied it and peeked inside.

It wasn’t filled with coins.

Instead, there were golden slips of paper—each one adorned with symbols and numbers. Michael counted a few, frowning at the unfamiliar item.

“Fifty golden papers,” Mage Lian said, folding his hands together. “Each worth one thousand gold coins.

Michael’s eyes widened. “That’s… fifty thousand gold?”

“Yes,” Lian confirmed. “You can exchange them for cash at any inner city bank or use them as direct payment when purchasing from major merchants. Consider it your share… and a quiet acknowledgment.”

Michael’s lips parted slightly.

He had not yet recovered when Mage Lian raised a hand.

“Now… onto the second matter.”

Mage Lian reached into another drawer and brought out yet another pouch—this one smaller but no less ornate. With a flick of his wrist, he slid it across the desk to Michael.

Michael caught it and opened the pouch cautiously.

Inside… another load of golden tickets.

His hands paused for a second. His mind, already reeling from the first pouch, struggled to process this second wave of wealth.

“Another fifty?” he muttered, glancing up.

Mage Lian gave a small nod. “Correct. Another fifty golden papers. Fifty thousand gold.”

Michael felt the world tilt just a little.

This was surreal.

But before he could ask what this second pouch was for, Mage Lian spoke again.

“That is your reward for assisting me and the kingdom knights during that… incident.”

Michael’s expression shifted the moment he heard the word.

“That.”

Even the way Mage Lian said it sent a chill down his spine.

That monster.

One that he hadn’t even been able to see and had nearly killed him.

And it wasn’t the kind of false death from the Land of Origin, where his real body would remain unaffected.

This was real death—true and permanent, the kind that would erase his consciousness entirely.

Remembering the experience, Michael’s body trembled slightly before he forced himself to calm down.

It’s okay. It’s okay. I’m stronger now, he told himself.

That monster was definitely at least Rank 2—maybe even a very powerful one at that.

But compared to the Michael of before, even a Rank 2 wouldn’t be a threat for long.