Traps were Bloodaxe’s specialty. Taking down a Third-Tier beast required costly resources.

  But the reward made it worthwhile—more than worthwhile.

  After days of tracking, followed by careful preparation, she finally brought down the creature.

  After resting, she rose and approached the corpse, mentally cataloging which parts held value before kneeling to carve and collect them.

  When her pack was full, she turned to leave—when a faint glimmer of red light caught her eye.

  She turned back, crouched, and searched carefully.

  Her blade worked again, and soon she pried free a hard, crystal-like object from within the beast.

  “What is this?” Even with her extensive knowledge of magical creatures, she had no idea.

  Still, taking one more item didn’t hurt, so she stored it and left the carcass behind.

  …

  With the little maid gone, Glenn found his free time shrinking—now he had to cook and clean himself.

  So he hired a new helper—a Forest Elf.

  Naturally, it couldn’t be Gortaya. She was hopeless at such tasks.

  The replacement was a female elf named Dunriel, said to be excellent at logistics in her homeland.

  Glenn had only asked casually at first, but to his surprise, she agreed immediately.

  It changed his impression of elves entirely.

  Glenn taught her some of his cooking skills as well. She had great talent—learning quickly and thanking him profusely, saying she never knew cooking could contain such depth.

  In the following days, Dunriel managed everything neatly, leaving Glenn with little to criticize.

  One day, after finishing his magic-cleansing practice, Glenn went to inspect the farm—

  —and froze.

  His entire farm had transformed. The air was fresher, the once messy layout now organized.

  It felt like stepping into a hidden paradise.

  Some workers arriving for their shift reacted the same way—they thought they had gone to the wrong place.

  Looking around, Glenn finally found the likely culprit.

  The High Priestess, robed in white, stood chanting devoutly.

  “What… are you doing?” Glenn asked quietly.

  The priestess finished her incantation before opening her eyes and smiling gently.

  “For days, my health prevented me from expressing my gratitude. Thank you for saving my daughter—and for the care you have shown her. I have little to offer, so I improved the environment here.”

  “I have long wanted to fix the messy layout. You have saved me a lot of work,” Glenn replied.

  “It is my honor, sir,” the priestess answered respectfully.

  Why is she so respectful? Glenn wondered. Combined with the stares he had been receiving from the elves lately…

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  Gortaya must have told them something. I will have to ask her later.

  “How is your recovery?” Glenn asked.

  “Thanks to the Great Mother, I have improved greatly. Being able to use magic again is proof.”

  “But only barely,” Glenn noted. “You are still weak—rest more.”

  “Thank you. I will.”

  Feeling uncomfortable with such reverence, Glenn waved and left.

  A worker responsible for transporting livestock had told him yesterday that Captain Daugherty was looking for him, so he headed for the station.

  At Duder’s Constabulary, many officers recognized Glenn and greeted him warmly.

  After confirming the Captain was in, Glenn walked down the corridor, turned a corner, and knocked.

  “Come in,” Daugherty’s deep voice answered.

  Glenn entered.

  Seeing him, Daugherty set aside his work and stood with a grin.

  “Glenn, do you have someone powerful backing you? Yesterday I received an anonymous file from the higher-ups. Inside was a house deed, a set of keys, and a note saying everything is to be given to you.”

  “What?”

  Glenn’s eyes widened—an expression of genuine confusion.

  He had no idea who would gift him a house.

  “You really do not know? You must have some close friend or relative working high up in the administration,” Daugherty suggested.

  But Glenn shook his head firmly. In both his own memories and those of the body’s original owner, no such person existed.

  “That is strange. The sender is anonymous—seems they do not want you to know.” Daugherty gestured for him to sit and continued analyzing.

  “Where is the file? Let me see,” Glenn said.

  “Here.” Daugherty handed him a folder. “It is a house in Bartsey’s main city—prime location, a large and very valuable property. You can tell just by the number of keys.”

  Glenn opened the folder. Inside were a deed, a set of keys, and a note stating the items were to be delivered to Dylan Nibankru.

  He had already told Daugherty his name, so the Captain knew who to look for.

  Glenn searched the original owner’s memories again—nothing. No one who could or would do this.

  “No suspects at all?” Daugherty asked gently when he saw Glenn frowning.

  Glenn slowly shook his head.

  “What do you plan to do with it, then?” the Captain asked.

  The office fell quiet before Glenn finally turned to him.

  “How much can I sell it for?”

  Daugherty blinked, then laughed. “That I do not know. Better check the market before selling.”

  He had no objections—after all, they belonged to Glenn. What he did with them was his own choice.

  “Fair point… Oh, right.” Glenn paused. “The White Bird Publishing editorial department—they are in Bartsey’s main city, right?”

  “They are. Why do you ask?”

  “A small copyright dispute.”