The two left the guild hall and headed toward their client’s shop, Soteria Apothecary.

  “That was embarrassing,” Dain muttered, rubbing the back of his neck as they walked. “I can’t believe I didn’t read the instructions properly…”

  Eira stayed quiet, her gaze distant and unfocused.

  “Eira?” Dain asked, noticing her silence. “What’s on your mind?”

  “Hmm?” Eira looked up. “I was just thinking… how can I get Ms. Marin to teach me magic? Maybe we should join her clan.”

  “Ho, you’re really serious about that huh?” Dain let out a small laugh. “I know of her clan. They’re famous, even among the Royal Guards.”

  “Really?”

  “The Zenith Prime. They’re a top-tier clan with three Diamond-ranked adventurers and a roster full of Platinums. But joining them isn’t a simple matter.”

  “Why not?”

  “You need to be at least Gold rank with a Power Level over one thousand,” Dain explained. “That’s the rumor, at least.”

  “Power Level…?” Eira tilted her head.

  “It’s the sum of all your base stats from the Soul’s Mirror.”

  Eira did a quick mental calculation, and her face fell. “I only have 825, and you have 1,344,” she said, a clear note of envy in her voice. “And we’re still only Bronze.”

  “That’s exactly why we need to train,” Dain said, his grin widening. “Once we complete this quest, we’ll earn twenty RP each. We need one thousand RP just to reach Silver, and ten thousand for Gold.”

  “That means we’d have to finish… around five hundred and forty-nine more quests to get there,” Eira murmured. The number felt like a mountain she wasn't sure she could climb.

  “Which is precisely why you should focus on training first,” Dain lectured, his tone turning practical. “Once we gain real experience, we can take on harder quests. Higher difficulty means better rewards, which drastically shortens the grind.”

  “Hai, hai, Master,” Eira muttered, a playful smirk finally breaking through her somber mood.

  They arrived at Soteria Apothecary, a small shop tucked between two taller buildings. It had a quaint, old-fashioned charm, with a wooden sign that swayed gently in the breeze. The air around the doorway was thick and fragrant with the earthy scent of drying herbs.

  Dain knocked firmly on the frame. “Quest delivery!”

  No answer came from within. He tried the tarnished brass doorknob; it turned easily. “We’re coming in,” he announced, pushing the door open with a soft creak.

  Inside, the shop was dim, illuminated only by dusty sunlight filtering through a single window. Shelves were crammed with jars of strange roots and colorful powders. There, on the floor between two cluttered tables, a man lay sprawled and unmoving.

  They rushed to his side. Dain carefully turned the man over while Eira knelt, her hands already glowing with a soft, golden light. She cast a restorative spell, letting the energy wash over him, but his condition remained unchanged.

  “What’s wrong? My magic isn’t working… is he—?” Eira’s question was cut short as a young girl appeared in the doorway, silhouetted against the bright street.

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  “Master!” she cried, rushing forward and skidding to her knees beside him. “You idiot!”

  “Huh?” Eira blinked in confusion. “Are you…?”

  “I’m Celica,” the girl said, barely glancing up. “I am this workaholic idiot’s apprentice.”

  “So he’s…?” Eira’s healer instincts were still on high alert.

  “He’s just sleeping,” Celica sighed with the exhaustion only an apprentice could feel. “He probably pulled another all-nighter and just passed out on the floor again.”

  “Oh…” Eira said, the tension draining from her shoulders, replaced by bewildered relief. “We’re here to deliver the Serpentine Flowers.”

  “Wait a minute,” Celica said, her eyes narrowing. She stood, marched to a corner, and returned with a full bucket of water. Before Dain or Eira could protest, she unceremoniously dumped it onto her master’s face.

  “Wake up already!”

  Dain and Eira stood speechless as the man jolted awake with a sputtering gasp, flailing on the wet floor. “Whoooaa—! What in the—?!”

  “How can you be this irresponsible? You left the shop unattended again!” Celica scolded, hands on her hips.

  “Sorry, sorry,” the man mumbled, wiping water from his eyes. He finally noticed the two adventurers. “And who might you be?”

  “They’re the adventurers who accepted the request!” Celica announced.

  The man scrambled to his feet, offering a quick, apologetic bow. “Thank you for taking it! It’s been a week since I posted it. I was starting to think no one would bother.”

  “Well, you didn’t offer much of a monetary reward,” Dain said bluntly. “The guild compensated by attaching higher reputation points, which is what caught our eye as beginners.”

  “I see, that makes sense,” the man said, running a hand through his damp hair. “I’m Zowell, the owner of this humble shop, and this is my ever-vigilant apprentice, Celica.”

  “Nice to meet you,” Eira greets politely.

  Dain handed over the carefully wrapped bundle of flowers. Zowell accepted them with a grateful nod.

  “These flowers are rarely used in medicine,” Eira noted, her curiosity piqued. “What are you planning to do with them?”

  “You’re knowledgeable about herbs?” Zowell looked pleasantly surprised.

  “I’ve just read about them in books,” Eira replied modestly.

  “I see…” Zowell’s expression grew thoughtful. “Well, the truth is, I’m experimenting.”

  “For what?” Eira asked, leaning forward slightly.

  “I'm looking for a cure. A cure for an illness that can’t be healed by potions… or even magic.”

  A heavy silence fell over the shop.

  “What kind of illness?” Eira asked softly. “Who is affected?”

  Zowell glanced toward Celica, who was busy wringing out a towel. He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. “…Celica’s mother.”

  Eira and Dain exchanged a look of shared understanding and pity.

  “Let’s not talk about it while she’s near,” Zowell murmured.

  Eira’s face set with determination. “Whenever you need more Serpentine Flowers… or any other herbs, please request from us again,” she offered. “I want to help.”

  “Very well. Thank you so much… ahh, I’m sorry, I didn’t get your names.”

  “Eira.”

  “Dain.”

  “Thank you, Eira. Thank you, Dain. You’re a godsend!” Zowell said, shaking their hands warmly.

  Later, after submitting the completion slip, they ate at the familiar tavern. Dain, learning from his previous mistake, paid as soon as they ordered.

  “Your order is here!” Fina announced, setting down two steaming bowls. “Enjoy! Keep up the hard work, adventurers.”

  “Thank you, Fina.”

  “An illness that can’t be healed with magic…” Eira murmured, staring into her stew as if the answers lay among the vegetables.

  “Still thinking about that?” Dain commented between bites.

  “I can’t stop thinking about it,” Eira admitted, stirring her food slowly. “I was taught that healing magic could snatch someone back from the very brink of death.”

  “But there are always exceptions, right?”

  “Yeah,” Eira nodded, her tone turning clinical. “If a person’s organs have degraded beyond a certain point, they lose the ability to respond to regenerative magic. The spell has nothing viable left to work with.”

  Dain nodded slowly, giving her the space to think out loud.

  “But what could cause the body’s natural regeneration to stop entirely?” she wondered aloud; her brow furrowed in deep concentration.

  “We can look into it,” Dain said gently, pulling her from her thoughts. “But don’t rush headlong into it. For now, just eat your food before it gets cold.”

  “‘Kay!” Eira replied, finally picking up her spoon with a resolved smile.