Susan took the card and handed it to Leo.
He looked at it, quiet for a moment as the glow slowly dimmed from the etched script. His eyes scanned the details.
Leo
Level: 1
Occupation: Swordsman
Combat Power: 71.6 [VIP Protection: 4,071.6]
He blinked. Then read it again, slower this time.
Susan tapped the corner of the platform lightly with her finger. "Seventy-one point six," she said, tone casual, "is about average for a Level 1 swordsman."
Her eyes flicked to him. "But you're a system user. You might be seeing your real numbers."
Leo turned toward her, something sharp slipping into his gaze—surprise, mostly.
Susan met his look without hesitation. "I've heard the stories about the previous one."
He didn't speak, but he waited.
She folded her arms, voice dry with experience. "The last guy who had it? Couldn't keep his mouth shut. Boasted about all his skills, even the ones you might consider as 'secret.'"
Leo slowly raised his hand. Then let it fall into a light smack against his forehead. "…Idiot."
Susan laughed. "Kind of a legend, actually. For all the wrong reasons."
She turned, casually leaning her hip against the platform. "The good news? Even if people know you've got hidden boosts, they still don't have a way to check your actual power. Not unless you tell them."
Leo gave a half-smile, but the edge stayed in his voice. "How strong is the Dragon Lord?"
Susan paused at that. "Hard to say for sure. But if we don't factor in equipment, system bonuses, or skill effects… a Level 80 swordsman would clock in at about thirteen hundred."
Leo nodded slowly. So the Dragon Lord is a swordsman too.
That didn't help.
Not much, anyway.
He glanced once more at the glowing number next to his name—4,071.6. It looked reassuring. Didn't feel it yet.
They left the room after that. The soft hum of the crystal faded behind them, the door clicking shut like a secret being tucked away.
Susan walked with them partway down the corridor, then turned without a word, heading back toward the guild center.
Leo and Amanda stepped out into the light together.
The city waited.
The capital wasn't quiet. It pulsed. With life. With voices. With the sort of energy that came from a hundred people chasing something. Markets hummed. Guards strolled. Wind pushed gently between tall spires and stone roofs.
Amanda moved a little closer beside him, silent.
Neither of them said anything.
They didn't need to.
They were headed to the heart of the capital now—and tomorrow, to something much worse.
As they stepped onto the sun-drenched avenue, the air shifted.
Scents of roasted spices and sweet citrus drifted in from a market street nearby. Wheels clattered over stone. Somewhere, a hawker was singing a tune out of key. The capital pulsed louder here—bigger buildings, cleaner streets, more polished boots. Even the wind felt rehearsed.
Amanda kept pace beside him, steps quieter now.
She hadn't said much since they left the guild.
The clothing shop stood nestled between a florist with sky-colored petals spilling out its doorway and a weapon vendor that looked like it had no idea how it ended up in such a nice part of town. The shop itself was a cut above—sleek lines, dark wood frame, elegant gold-trimmed drapes curling in the window. A mannequin in the front wore a floor-length coat with spell-etched cuffs, the kind of detail that whispered money without shouting it.
They stepped inside.
The air changed again—cooler, scented faintly of pressed linen and some kind of herbal polish. The lighting was soft and flattering, casting long shadows across displays. Gentle chatter floated through the space, and somewhere near the back, a mannequin stood frozen mid-curtsy.
"Welcome!" a voice chirped.
A young girl approached with a smile, hands folded neatly at her waist. "Please feel free to ask me anything. I'll be happy to assist you."
Leo turned toward Amanda, except she was gone.
His brows furrowed as he scanned the room.
The attendant noticed. "Are you looking for her?" she asked, then pointed.
Leo followed the gesture.
Amanda stood off to the left, halfway behind a display rack, staring at a dress like it had whispered her name. The lighting caught her hair just right, burnished copper flickering along the edges.
Leo let out a quiet breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. Relief made his shoulders drop a little.
He turned back to the girl beside him. "Could you help Amanda find some underwear?"
She nodded with a polite smile, ready to step forward, when the atmosphere cracked.
"Hey!" a voice snapped, sharp and loud enough to cut the music of fabric and footfall. "Don't touch that dress! You'll get it dirty, and no one will buy it now!"
The tone wasn't just rude. It was layered. With judgment. With class. With something nastier underneath.
Leo felt it before he processed it.
A small, tight heat lit behind his ribs.
Amanda froze, hand still suspended near the dress like she'd been caught stealing. Her shoulders stiffened. Not defensive. Just shrinking.
Leo's fists clenched.
It wasn't rage exactly. Just tired. Tired of this kind of person. This kind of moment.
He stepped toward her, steady. Deliberate.
Amanda glanced up. Her face was drawn, not ashamed, not angry. Just caught. The kind of look people wore when they knew how this story usually ended.
He softened when he saw her like that.
"Do you like this dress?" he asked. Quiet.
Amanda's gaze flicked down, then back to him. Her voice was low, a breath wrapped in fabric. "We can't afford it."
He almost said doesn't matter. Almost said I'll buy the whole damn shop. But that wouldn't help. That wasn't the part that hurt.
He looked at the dress instead.
It was simple. Black. Clean lines. Deep neckline, white patterns stitched across the torso in a design that looked half floral, half arcane. The sleeves ended just under the arm. It was the kind of piece that didn't need sparkle to draw attention—it would do that the moment Amanda wore it and dared to stand tall.
"It would look great on you," Leo said, his hand brushing the edge of the fabric.
The shriek came instantly.
"Don't touch it!" the same woman snapped, stomping forward with her lips curled and eyes narrowed.
Leo looked at her.
Not long. Not hard. Just enough.
She faltered mid-step like the room had tilted slightly. But then she squared up, voice rising like she was trying to summon backup.
"He's trying to hurt me!" she cried out.
The other girl started forward instinctively, only to be blocked by a raised hand from the rude staff member.
Then footsteps. Thicker. Heavier.
An adventurer pushed through a rack nearby. Built like a brick wall with a sword too large for his intelligence.
"Hey. If you can't pay," he growled, "leave. Or I'll make you."
Leo said nothing.
Just slid a hand into his pocket and pulled out the coin purse.
He didn't open it. Didn't need to. The moment the sigil flickered—faint, soft, and real, the man's posture cracked.
50,000.
Silence pressed down on the moment like a lid on boiling water.
The adventurer took a step back. Then another.
The rude staffer blinked. Mouth half-open. Smile forming as if pulled by wires.
"Oh—I—I didn't realize, I'm so sorry," she stammered. "Let me get that dress down for you!"
Leo didn't blink. Didn't soften.
"I don't want your help," he said.
Not loud.
Just final.
He turned to the younger attendant—the one who hadn't flinched, hadn't judged, hadn't done anything but try to help.
"Could you assist us instead?"
She nodded instantly.
And the energy in the room shifted again.