Player 0.4 [You have died.] [Reset in progress.]

“I accept your offer to be your intern,” I said. “Assuming the conditions are favorable.”

Augustus’s lips curved upward, clearly pleased.

“Wonderful to hear,” he replied. He lowered himself back into a deep green armchair and gestured for me to sit across from him.

Between us sat a low table carved from a single block of amethyst. Light from the nearby window caught in the crystal, scattering faint violet reflections across the room. Resting atop it was a porcelain teapot edged in delicate gold, paired with two white ceramic cups.

“And I’m certain you won’t have much to complain about,” he added.

With a light flick of his fingers, three sheets of paper lifted from the desk behind him. They floated across the room before settling neatly in front of me.

“Take a look,” he said.

As I reached for the papers, Augustus tilted the teapot and poured us each a cup. Steam curled upward, carrying with it the bright scent of tropical fruit layered over mellow vanilla.

I picked up the documents and immediately noted that the parchment itself was of high quality. It felt thick and smooth beneath my fingers. Several red seals were stamped along the margins; a verification mark used by the Royal Red Mage Registry.

I pulled out from my pocket the Lexicon Lens the librarian had given me and took my time to pore over the documents with it, line by line, to ensure no word slipped my understanding.

I didn’t expect Augustus to trick me into some sort of slave arrangement. Still, my time as head of the Frey Merchant Guild had taught me that a poorly structured contract could ruin a person quite effectively.

And I had taken to heart the advice from one of my classmates earlier that morning.

“The average monthly pay for an RRM intern is three hundred Gleem,” the girl had explained while the rest of the class hovered around me. “Make sure you negotiate at least double that.”

My eyes found the relevant line.

1,000 G

More than triple.

My gaze moved on.

“Even if the pay looks good, be careful about the hours,” she had added. “RRM interns get worked into the ground—fifty to seventy hours a week—while still attending classes. It’s a hazing ritual, honestly, rather than useful work, too. Most of them survive on Cat Nap Potions.”

I located the section on expected workload.

15 hours per week

My eyebrows rose slightly.

The rest of the terms were similarly generous. Leave allowances. Academic priority protections. Even clear language protecting my intellectual property, should I produce any original magical work during the internship.

None of the pitfalls I had been warned about appeared anywhere in the document.

Augustus watched me from across the desk, fingers loosely interlaced, his expression calm but attentive.

“Well?” he asked after a moment.

I set the contract down between us.

“The contract looks good,” I said. “Great, actually.”

Augustus’s brows knit slightly.

He leaned forward in his chair, studying my face.

“But it’s lacking something,” he said. “You don’t seem entirely pleased.”

I sat back, folding my arms.

“Yes,” I said. “I would like one more addition.”

I paused, letting the weight of the next words settle.

“But under a shadow contractual agreement.”

Augustus studied me carefully. The pleasant expression on his face did not disappear, but it became noticeably more still.

“If it’s a shadow contract,” he said slowly, “that would mean it’s a condition you wish to keep private. Between you and me? Or the entirety of the RRM?”

“It would be best if it remained strictly between the two of us,” I replied. “For both your benefit and mine.”

Augustus allowed himself a smile.

“For my benefit…?” he repeated. “Now you’ve made me curious. What sort of condition could possibly serve us both?”

I glanced around the room.

“I’d like to speak freely,” I said.

My gaze settled on the potted palm tree near one of the walls.

Augustus followed my eyes, then looked back at me, one eyebrow rising.

I gestured toward the plant with a small motion of my hand, and gave an expression of: Well, are you going to do anything about it?

Augustus exhaled softly.

With a flick of his fingers, a small portal opened beneath the palm tree. The entire pot dropped through it with a quiet thump before the portal snapped shut.

“There,” he said. “Now then, what was it you wished to discuss?”

I lifted my teacup and took a slow sip. “The other one too, if you don’t mind.”

My gaze drifted deliberately to the pin fastened to his collar.

Augustus went still for a moment. Then he let out a quiet sigh.

“I suppose you would have noticed that one as well,” he muttered.

He unclipped the RRM pin and dropped it into another tiny portal that he produced beside his hand.

Augustus leaned back in his armchair, studying me with a more thoughtful expression.

“Interesting,” he said. “Practically none of my colleagues have ever caught on to those.”

A pointed smile appeared across his face.

“How did you?” he inquired.

I couldn’t exactly say it was because of my Random Character Checker, which showed me that Augustus always had a recorder near him. It even explained to me what they were and where they were.

So, I didn’t answer. Instead, I met his gaze evenly.

“Those had better be the last ones,” I said. “For your sake.”

And it truly was for his sake.

Augustus watched me for another second before giving a small nod.

“They are,” he said. His tone shifted slightly. It was less amused and more practical.

“And my apologies,” he added. “The royal family tends to be… cautious. Which means whatever you want to discuss will need to be quick.”

He glanced briefly toward the painting on one wall of the queen and king.

“I can’t keep those devices away for too long without raising alarm,” he said. “Five minutes at most.”

His eyes returned to me.

“That’s fine,” I said and set the tea cup down. “I’d like for you to teach me how to increase my mana core. That’s my final condition.”

Augustus’ facial expression didn’t budge.

“Aren’t you already above one thousand belden?” he asked mildly. “Besides… what makes you think I can help you with that?”

He smiled.

I sighed.

His expression and body language were perfect. The performance was flawless. If I didn’t know what I knew, I might have assumed I had made a grave mistake. However, I did know.

“I can see it,” I said.

My eyes lowered intentionally toward his abdomen.

“Your mana core is already well above four hundred belden,” I stated.

I looked back up.

“But the official record lists it at around three hundred,” I said. “And only seventy-something when you were a student, though that is recorded as being an error now.”

Augustus didn’t move.

“That,” I continued calmly, “is why I suggested this conversation remain private. It was for your sake.”

Augustus sighed and relaxed back in his armchair. He allowed himself a small smile.

“Very well, I can teach you my technique,” he said. Then his eyes sharpened slightly. “But I’ll need something of equal value in return.”

I nodded.

Given the high value of what I requested, I had fully expected I’d have to give something up in return.

​

***

​

Our conversation concluded with a continuation of the shadow contract discussion, but with the contents fabricated for the two listening devices, catering to the royal family’s egos. In the fabricated shadow agreement, I negotiated that Augustus would obtain a secret autograph from the Crown Prince, the sole child of the queen and king.

I knew little about the young man beyond whatever little academy gossip I’d heard, but I knew he was a talented mage. This made him a sufficiently respectable figure for a student to admire, so it didn’t seem like it’d come off like too odd a request. The secrecy of the shadow clause was also explained. After all, requesting such a thing openly would have been rather awkward—for both the Crown Prince and me. Given how he never appeared in public despite his station, I presumed he must have had a rather shy disposition.

Augustus did me the courtesy of teleporting me directly to the trolley station outside the palace grounds. It spared me the tedious walk through the endless gardens. And the need to slip through the city streets using the Pull Tab Necklace for invisibility.

Since I was already in the city, it would have been an excellent opportunity to do a bit of reconnaissance on Carmilla Aleicard, the fly.

Unfortunately, I didn’t have the time: I had a prearranged meeting with Paisley Lister waiting for me back at the academy.

Paisley had reserved a private study room in the library for our meeting.

It was only the two of us, and the room size was about the equivalent of my dorm room. Given the hour, Paisley had ordered food and refreshments to be provided, which I was thankful for as I hadn’t eaten lunch yet.

I was halfway through a sandwich when her lecture began.

“Since I’m majoring in Elemental Familiar Studies,” Paisley said, folding her arms, “I’m fairly knowledgeable about elementals. But before I can teach you anything, I need to know what you already understand about them.”

I swallowed the mouthful of food I had just taken. “Practically nothing.”

Paisley sighed.

She pulled one of the books from the stack she had asked the librarian to gather and opened it to a diagram.

On one page was an illustration of a dying wolf. From its body rose a faint spirit-like shape that drifted upward before merging with falling rain.

“Elementals are essentially spirits that attach themselves to an element,” she explained. “This occurs at the moment of a creature’s final death—when its cycle of rebirth is complete.”

She flipped to the next page.

A four-pointed star was drawn across the paper.

“The four fundamental elements are water, fire, earth, and wind,” she continued. “These are the elementals you’re most likely to encounter. They’re fairly common—though their strength depends heavily on the creature the spirit originated from.”

She turned another page.

The same star appeared again, but this time the background faded into gradients of color: red for fire, blue for water, yellow for air, and green for earth. And the colors mixed like a rainbow in between. At the center of the star swirled streaks of white and black.

“For more complex elementals, the core elements mix,” she explained. Her finger tapped the light-and-dark swirl in the center. “Under certain circumstances, those elements can also invert.”

“What about your elemental?” I asked, gesturing toward Paisley.

Now that I was paying closer attention, the faint shimmer around her golden jewelry was impossible to miss.

Paisley smiled and held out her hand. Her elemental flashed over her rings with a bright flash.

“Spark is considered to consist of a fire element as its primary core, but it also has partial elements of the earth and water,” she explained.

The tiny elemental glowed brighter for a moment before slipping back into hiding within the golden jewelry.

“The creature that produced him was my dog,” she continued. “He passed away during a storm. When his spirit transformed into an elemental, he sought me out himself. We formed a contract shortly afterward.”

She smiled at me.

“It was a tragic loss at the time,” she admitted. “But I’m grateful to still have him with me.”

Paisley tapped the diagram in the book.

“Because the creature that produced him was relatively low-tier, Spark himself is considered a lower-grade elemental,” she explained. “If the spirit had come from something like a unicorn, the resulting elemental would have been Grade B.”

She gave a small shrug.

“That’s why you see unicorns everywhere,” she said. “Everyone is hoping to contract with one upon their natural and final death.”

She looked down at her rings. “But I don’t mind. I’m glad to have Spark.”

“What grade would my elemental be then…?” I asked, glancing down at the dark shadow beneath my feet.

A dying phoenix had to be at least Grade A. Possibly higher, assuming the grading scale even went that far.

Then again, I still wasn’t entirely convinced what I possessed was truly an elemental. I was simply working with Paisley’s assumption for now, since she seemed so confident in it.

Paisley shrugged.

“Until we see what it can actually do, it’s hard to say,” she replied. “And since its elemental composition doesn’t resemble anything I’m familiar with, I’m not even sure what mixture of elements it might contain.”

Her hand rested reassuringly on my shoulder.

“Don’t worry,” she said with a smile. “We’ll figure it out together. And I promised I’d teach you how to communicate with it.”

She tapped the page in front of us.

“The first step is forming a contract,” she explained.

My heartbeat quickened.

“Isn’t it a bit soon?” I asked nervously. “And what exactly would a contract involve?”

Images of the countless contracts I had negotiated in the past flashed through my mind. I wasn’t remotely ready for this one.

Paisley’s smile widened.

“It’s simple,” she said. “You just need to name it.”

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