The three sat on familiar benches in a luxurious office where a short, balding man shrugged at them.

"What do you mean we can't go to Eden's gate?" Orel asked Hannes.

"I apologize, but your rank is below the minimum requirement for quests in the academy."

"But we have Mr. Diarmuid with us."

"We have calculated your rank, and the Voyagers still stand at rank C."

"How is that possible?" Orel slammed his hands on the table.

"You can do the math yourself. You are rank D, Mr. Andras is rank B, and Mr. Cumhaill is rank A. Counting up your scores to a medium leaves you at rank C."

"Aren't there any C rank quests there?" Orel's voice cracked.

"I am afraid there has been a change in the situation." Hannes shook his head. "While prior it was merely due to our legislation about threat levels, Eden's gate has now personally limited all quest submissions to be rank B or higher."

"What can we do? We don't have time to look for members or raise our rank." Orel said.

"Then, could we send to a quest on Puerta Blanca?" Diarmuid stepped into the conversation.

"What's that?" Orel asked.

"Puerta Blanca is just next to Eden's gate. It's a popular tourist attraction, or that's the impression I got from working on harbors."

"Ooh, is there a beach?" Andras asked.

"Is it possible to find a quest there?" Orel turned to Hannes.

"Possible, but it is not in our jurisdiction."

"What does that mean?" Orel raised an eyebrow.

"Even if there was, it is not up for us to check."

"But you sent us to Albion." Andras reminded.

"That was a special case. We are open to promoting quests from there, but Puerta Blanca is not one of those locations." Hannes explained.

"Then, what do we need to do?" Orel asked.

"You can contact the local Guild office to get their offers, but you will have to travel there by your own means."

"Guess there's no other way." Andras shrugged.

"We will go there, one way or another." Orel looked at Hannes.

"Go ahead. We will not stop you. The Guild promotes all work that will not cause trouble."

"Heh, so the Guild is like any other organization. You're scared shitless with the slightest threat to your status." Diarmuid laughed.

Hannes glanced at the large man. His face frowned with silent judgment while Diarmuid paid no mind to it.

"We disapprove of foul language here, Mr. Cumhaill. If you have nothing else for me to say, please leave."

"Come on, guys, we're leaving." Orel jumped off the sofa.

"Good day to you, Voyagers."

Hannes watched the three walk out of his office. He waited anxiously, looking at his private phone on the desk. It took little time for it to ring, but Hannes took a moment to gather his confidence to answer it.

"Hannes Parameum." He hesitated.

"We expect you have done as ordered." An ominous voice said.

"Yes, sir. I have blacklisted them" Hannes started to sweat. "Though, they are still able to go to Puerta Blanca."

"That is fine. You have done well, Mr. Parameum. House Norman awards you for your efforts." The call ended.

After the call, Hannes hastily searched his drawer for a cigar to smoke. He sighed with a big smoke cloud bursting from his mouth. Though the words lingered in his mind, he felt nothing for the three adventurers walking to their death. They were no longer his responsibility, and no one had time to weep for others in the adventuring world.

The three went to Orel's home, where no one was home, not even Ymir, who went to visit her friends on the mainland. Orel sat on the sofa and pulled out his phone. He had downloaded the Guild app, though it had little use other than scheduling meetings at the office.

Andras sat beside him. "So, you know how to call up the Zabad office?"

"I'm trying." Orel had some difficulty navigating the app.

"There should be an office near the east coast," Diarmuid noted. "By the way. I've kept my mouth shut, but I remember you had a mage last time we met."

Orel paused for a moment. His eyes slowly panned over to Diarmuid.

"Right, we should tell by now." He said. "We are going to Eden's gate because Norman disappeared one night."

"Really?"

"He left a note for us that he wanted us to go help him." Orel looked down.

"So, this Norman is in Eden's gate, but why? Does he live there? Wait, you mean he is A Norman?"

"Yeah," Orel said.

"I don't know, kid. Mage academies don't like intruders." Diarmuid left out the memories of taking down Magistrate intruders that were never seen again.

Diarmuid watched Orel's eyes water but kept them barely in. It was like watching his little sister cry after a bad breakup. However much she would annoy him, he would always help her.

"Well, if he wrote a letter like that, he might not want to be there. As long as I get paid, you can count me in." Diarmuid put a thumbs up and proudly bumped it against his chest.

"Then you better be prepared for a wild ride!" Andras laughed with his shoulders jumping.

"Yeah, we get into weird situations all the time," Orel said.

"So, what sort of quests do they offer?" Diarmuid asked.

"Let's see." Orel looked through the offers on his phone. "I found one! C rank quest to bodyguard a VIP for three days."

"Bodyguarding, huh? What else does it say?"

"Hm? Oh, it has some special conditions. Parties need to be assessed by the quest provider. Further information of the objective will be provided for those that pass." Orel read further.

"I knew it. Well, it shouldn't be too hard if you have magic." Diarmuid said.

"I registered us." Orel pushed the button to accept the quest.

The three smiled at each other in unison. Even Diarmuid was feeling giddy about it.

"So, when are we going?" Andras asked.

"Oh, right." Orel checked. "The assessment test is in two days."

"Two days?!" Diarmuid stepped back in horror.

"What?" Orel tilted his head.

"Do you realize how much a day-before ticket costs to get there?"

"We can always go economy," Orel shrugged. "Besides, how much can it cost?"

"Check right now." Diarmuid stared with cold eyes.

Orel clicked away to the Marine Cruise website to check the prices.

"An adult ticket from Tanlen to Puerta Blanca costs around 150 Eer."

"See? Ridiculous!" Diarmuid flailed his arms around.

Orel's eyes glanced left and right. They met with Andras, who was confused.

"It's not that much." They said.

"What sort of privileged life have you two been living?" Diarmuid took a step back.

"How much did you get from your job?" Orel asked.

"Let's see. It was 200 Qit per month, with 50% going to taxes and health insurance, and 30% I donated to my family." Diarmuid recounted.

Orel took out his calculator and did the math.

"You got by with 480 Eer per month?!" He had to do a double check. It was right. "Didn't you get any benefits?"

"They all went to my family."

"Couldn't you drop the health insurance?" Andras asked.

"Drop the health insurance? I'll rather die than see the bill for my hospital bills without it!" Diarmuid shook his head like being in a nightmare.

"Okay, okay. I can pay for your ticket if it's so much for you." Orel sighed.

"You would do that? Oh, I'll be in your debt! Literally!" Diarmuid took Orel's hand and shook it relentlessly.

"It's nothing. We should be thanking you for joining us."

"I just thought you might be a fun bunch to be around." Diarmuid scratched his cheek with a blush.

The three ordered the tickets, packed their belongings, and said goodbyes to the family. Tuja hugged Orel before he stepped out the door, and Deras threw one of his favorite bottles to Andras with a silent nod. Diarmuid was treated as a guest, but more importantly, as a friend of Orel. The group sailed to the port of Alanland, where they would continue to the other side of the horizon.

Near the edge of a small pier, a casual-clothed man in shorts begged on his knees to a pinstriped gentleman holding a jet black stiletto. The figure stood with his back against the city lights, the only thing giving light to the night and the sparkling ocean. The gentle yet salty sea breeze flowed through his slick, combed-back hair and sharp, pointy whiskers.

"I'm sorry, mister Ocham! I had no choice! My boy's sick, and I need the money! Please, for the love of Gimiter!" Steve begged.

"That won't do, Steve. Father hates rats like you." Ocham shook his head while tapping the knife in his hands.

"No one needs to know about this. How about we split the prize and walk away?" Steve tried to twist a desperate smile.

"We're way beyond simply walking away from this, Steve." Ocham stared Steve down with cold hard eyes.

"I'll give it all back! My family and I will pack up and never return to Puerta Blanca!" Steve pushed the bag away with tears.

"No, no, no. You don't understand. You owe us your life, and The boss sent me to claim it." Ocham raised his stiletto.

"No, please! Think about my family!" Steve cowered in fear.

"You should have thought of them when you stole from us. I am a man of my word, and if that word is to kill, I will see it to the end."

Steve heard the waves behind him, and between facing the indescribable horror of mob murders and possibly drowning himself, he would happily jump into the ocean. The man rolled over the edge and sunk beneath the waves in just a moment. Ocham leaned over to look, but the dark water hid him well.

"Well, this is a problem." Ocham sighed and flipped his stiletto in the air. "I don't have time for this."

"Set theory." Ocham chanted.

The blade froze in the air, pointing down into the sea like a compass.

"Steve dies because he escaped under the water and has to come up for air," Ocham said.

Ocham watched the blade float in the air, but nothing happened.

"Guess he drowned." He shrugged and snatched the blade back.

Ocham walked away with the bag full of money, though throughout disappointed.

Hidden under the pier, Steve listened to the footsteps echo further away. Finally, peeking around to see if Ocham had left, he saw that the coast was clear. Steve made a beeline to the nearest taxi, which fortunately was not far. He walked next to it, knocked on the door, and stepped inside.

"Where to?" The driver asked.

"Airport. I'll pay extra to hurry."

"Sure thing." The driver started the car.

After checking the money in a dark alleyway, Ocham took out his stiletto again.

"It should be right around now." He threw it in the air. "Set theory. Steve dies as he tries to escape Puerta Blanca by taking a taxi to the airport."

The blade speeded off, whistling in the air. It's speed

"Hope that's enough," he said.

The narrow dagger flew in a straight line while making precise turns when needed until it found its target. The driver ducked from the noise and hastily pulled over to the side of the road. The taxi was not fast enough, and the back window was not strong enough, so the blade skewered the back of Steve's skull and left him dead on the seat. Soon, a pinstriped man walked next to the driver's door and knocked on it. The window rolled down to reveal Ocham waiting with a grim face of a gangster.

"Sorry about that, but you saw nothing. Take the money, or Grandfather will have a problem with you." He counted a slip of money and handed it over.

The driver took the money without saying a word and nodded. Even he had heard words about him, the razor of Puerta Blanca. Ocham put on some gloves, pulled out the knife from Steve's body, and dragged him out of the car. Some people stopped to look in horror but knew to look away once they saw Ocham staring at them back.

"That was Ocham, the calculator, wasn't it?" A woman asked her husband.

"Shush! He might hear you." The husband walked away with her.

Ocham took out his phone and dialed a number. The phone was custom built to disable tracking, and one would have to learn the numbers repeatedly each month. That was the price of strictly organized criminal empires.

"It's Ocham. The job is finished. I got the money, but I need someone to take care of our client."

A gangster round as a barrel held the phone with his sausage fingers. Gabriel "Roundhouse" Torrio handled and distributed the most critical information in the gang. Though he rarely worked outdoors, his business sense and smarts kept him well fed to keep his nickname.

"Say the street, and I'll call Darius," Gabriel answered between smoking a cigarette. "Do the usual. Find an alley, cover him with newspaper, and no one will bother him until we pick him up."

"Thank you, Gab."

"I'm just doing my job. Also, Father has a new job for you."

"So soon? Fine, what is it?" Ocham asked.

"You might have heard that we are holding a meeting between the ring leaders soon."

"Of course I have. What about it?"

"One newcomer has been testing the waters a bit too much. Father has concluded that they need a lesson; we mean taking out their daughter." The man coughed with laughter.

"Isn't that a bit too much? Won't that cause a gang war?" Ocham raised an eyebrow.

"The thing is that we're not the only ones trying to take him down. The new guy is going down for sure. It's a secret agreement between the dons. The catch is that they agreed that the one who causes the most damage to him wins the most territory."

"So you go for the grand prize and want me to kill his daughter?"

"You're our best hitman, Ocham. But I'm warning you. We're not the only ones going for the daughter, so you will probably need to take down other hitmen besides their bodyguards."

"Sounds like a hassle, but if it's Father's orders, I just have to go with it." Ocham sighed.

"Good. I will send you the details." The phone hung up.

As the sun was about to rise, Ocham returned to his apartment. Though he lived alone, the silence past the door felt wrong. His dog was not there to greet him with its wagging tail and droopy eyes. Instead, Ocham found it stitched to the living room wall, dissected open with the organs rearranged to a smiley face. A small well-written note hung from its loose tongue. A rather large vein grew on Ocham's otherwise blank face as he took and read it.

"You are Grandfather's best lap dog, so I was hoping to rile you up for the hunt with this, Ocham. I was prepared to kill your whole family, but all I found was this small mutt. Consider it a souvenir for us coming here. Best wishes, la Loupe."

Ocham crumbled the paper, closed his dog's eyes, and left without a word, or he would have, if not for a bird chirping on his kitchen table near an open window. Ocham would not have minded it otherwise, but as someone knowledgable with birds, he found it odd that a dagger tail swallow, home to Koonfur, would somehow have ended up in Zabad. As he went in to take a closer look at the long-tailed bird, Ocham noticed another odd detail. A smell of rotten eggs, yet there were no eggs in his fridge, nor did he forget to take out the trash. Then he realized it, just as the bird exploded.

"Gas!" Ocham sprunt out of the room.

The kitchen burst into flames. Though Ocham had no time to look, he ducked for safety. The gas ignited and exploded with a blast he could barely dodge. As Ocham's hearing returned, he could hear mad laughter before a colorful parrot flew in from the broken window. It landed in front of him and hopped closer. Ocham was about to stab it until it started talking.

"I heard you Zabadians liked grand introductions, so I tried one myself. Squawk! Got to say, I'm having a blast with this! How about you, Ocham?" The bird whistled. "After we're done with that girl, I will have some fun with you, so be prepared. Yours truly, Bam the druid."

Though his face was full of anger like a devil, his smile was fittingly devilish as he stabbed the bird with his knife.

"Looks like I have my work cut out for me."

Ocham walked out of the burning apartment and took out his phone.

"Hey, Darius. Looks like I need to be low profile for a while. Could you give me a better place for that?"

Darius "broker" Bulger was the man to call for supplies, hideouts, or vehicles. The man was slick as a shadow, hiding from the sun like a creature of the night he was.

"Man, you sure keep me busy. First a pickup and now a hideout? What am I a housing agent?"

"Well, my house was attacked by two rival gang members, and while the extra heat is nice, I am not a fan of open-planned houses."

"Really?" Darius gasped. "Did they do anything to Oddie?"

"Sliced and put him on display," Ocham said bluntly.

"No! I loved that little doggy!" Darius vailed.

"You tell me."

"Did it get a proper burial?" Darius sniffed while holding tears.

"It's probably burning with the rest of the apartment."

"Wow, so they do mean business." Darius toughened himself.

"That's why I called you. I am not into changing addresses too often or fending off intruders, for that matter."

"Alright, I'll take a look at what's available. Is quality something you're concerned with?"

"l would rather take a safe house than a nice house."

"Right. Father wouldn't want to lose you either. Do you think they can come after me?"

"If you're still the Darius, I know they can't catch you, but I would still be careful. I got a bad feeling about this whole thing."

"Is Ocham the calculator scared?"

"Concerned, Darius." Ocham corrected.

"Damn. I'll check everything, just in case."

"I will stay in White Rose for a few days."

"Fancy."

"No, public. It will drive off most people."

"I thought we weren't dealing with most people."

"Good night, Darius." Ocham sighed.

"It's almost morning already," Darius smirked.

Ocham turned his phone off. He was already adequately dressed, so Ocham walked into the casino hotel casually. He looked up to a towering glass building in the city's center. One of the fabulous jewels of Puerta Blanca, the White Rose offered almost any pleasure and sin on earth, as long as it kept itself inside its myriad of luxury rooms and grand halls. An oasis to the people, but a mirage that left them craving and penniless, much like the city itself.