Nerissa led me through the second floor, past doors I'd never been allowed to open, until we reached the guild master's room.
The moment I stepped inside, the air felt different.
Quieter. Sharper. Like the noise of the guild couldn't survive in here.
The guild master—Theopard Erdallion—stood behind his desk with a cup of hot tea in his hand, facing the window. His back was straight, shoulders relaxed, the posture of someone who could sit in peace and still be dangerous.
He didn't turn right away.
Nerissa stopped behind me, close enough that I could feel her presence like a steady wall.
Theopard took one slow sip.
Then he set the cup down on a luxurious glass saucer with a soft clink.
Only then did he glance at me.
He sighed—quiet, controlled.
"So," he said, voice calm. "You've made a binding oath."
My blood turned cold.
I stared at him, shocked so hard my throat forgot how to work.
But my heart didn't sting.
No warning heat.
No punishment.
Just silence inside my chest.
I opened my mouth to speak.
"I—"
Theopard raised a hand.
The motion was small, but my words died instantly.
"Don't," he said.
Not angry.
Concerned. Frustrated. Like he was looking at a kid who had stepped too close to a cliff.
"You will not speak until I tell you to," he continued. "Do you understand?"
I swallowed. "Y-yes, sir."
Theopard's gaze stayed on my face, not moving, as if he was watching for the smallest tremor.
"The binding oath is not a rumor," he said. "Not a fairy tale. It is extremely dangerous magic."
His tone didn't swell for drama. It didn't need to.
"No one in Avalonia can negate it," he continued. "Once it binds… it binds for the rest of your life."
My stomach sank.
The word life felt too long. Too heavy.
I swallowed my saliva and the apology rushed out before I could stop it.
"I-I'm sorry."
Theopard's hand lifted again immediately.
"Stop," he said. "Don't apologize. Listen."
He exhaled slowly, the kind of breath a man takes when he's trying to stay calm for someone else.
"You know your life is on the line now," he said. "Your sister's life would mean nothing if you die."
The sentence hit harder than any scolding.
My chest tightened. I lowered my gaze, fists clenched at my sides.
Theopard finally sat, folding into his chair like a lion choosing when to rest. His presence didn't shrink.
"Now," he said, "tell me what you think a binding oath does."
I hesitated. My throat felt dry.
"M-mana burn… sir," I said carefully. "If… if I betray…"
Theopard nodded once.
"That's the obvious part," he said. "And yes—betrayal will kill you."
He leaned forward slightly.
"But there's something worse."
My breath stalled.
"It doesn't just kill traitors," Theopard said. "It manufactures obedience."
He spoke like he was listing the components of a trap.
"It restricts what you can say," he continued. "It punishes what you can think. It isolates you from anyone who might help."
His eyes narrowed faintly.
"And it turns you into an asset that can be moved."
I felt my fingers go cold.
Behind me, Nerissa shifted a half-step closer. No words—just presence.
Theopard's gaze flicked briefly to my clothes.
"And I know who did it."
My head snapped up.
I blurted without thinking, "H-how—"
Theopard didn't even blink.
"You're wearing their mark," he said.
I looked down at my noble outfit for the first time with real attention.
On the left side of my chest—subtle, same color as the fabric—there was an emboss.
A crest.
A wolf shape with a sword in its mouth, a shield-like back behind it.
It was so quiet it didn't look like decoration.
It looked like something meant to be missed.
My throat tightened. "I… I didn't even see it."
Theopard's voice stayed calm.
"That's the point," he said. "They brand property without making it look like a brand."
My stomach turned.
"Vonel," he said plainly.
Hearing the name in this room made the air feel colder.
Theopard continued without letting it become a lecture.
"The Vonel family is respected by Avalonia," he said. "Not because they're rich. Not because they're noble. Because they're a war pillar."
He tapped the desk once with a finger—quiet emphasis.
"They've held lines against Chimmeria that other families couldn't," he said. "And they've done it long enough that the kingdom tolerates things it shouldn't tolerate."
He paused.
"And they are obsessed with the Great Abyss Dungeon."
His eyes stayed locked on mine.
"Centuries," he said. "Generations. They will do anything to get what they're looking for—even if it costs lives."
He leaned forward a fraction more.
"And you," he said, "are now in the middle of it."
The room felt too small suddenly.
My mind flashed to Alcatraz's calm voice. Controlled access. Drip-fed information. Binding oath.
I felt sweat gather at my temples.
Theopard's voice lowered.
"With that oath on your heart," he said, "there's very little we can do to help you directly."
My throat tightened. Cold fear slid under my skin.
I opened my mouth—started to ask—started to beg.
Theopard's hand lifted again, not harsh, but final.
Then he said the words I didn't expect.
"I cannot give you privilege in this guild anymore, kid."
My vision shook.
He continued, calm, controlled.
"From this day on, you will take your belongings from the guest room and return them to your home," he said. "And you are no longer my disciple."
The sentence landed like a blade.
For a second, I couldn't breathe.
My mouth opened and the sound came out broken.
"S-sir! I—I still w-want to—"
Theopard cut it off instantly.
"Listen," he said.
Not angry. Not cold. Just… firm. Like an instinct taking control.
"If you remain my disciple," he said, "they'll use me, the guild, your friends—everyone."
His eyes flicked toward the door as if he could see the whole guild through it.
"Do you understand?" he asked.
I couldn't answer.
My throat was too tight.
"So I cut the rope first," Theopard said.
The words weren't kind.
But they were protective.
My eyes burned.
Tears slipped out before I could stop them, hot and humiliating. I stared at the floor, trying to swallow them down, failing.
Nerissa's hand gently grabbed my shoulder—steady, quiet comfort. No pity. Just support.
Theopard watched me for a moment, jaw tightening as if this was the part he hated most.
Then he spoke again, softer—not gentle, but less sharp.
"I am not abandoning you," he said. "I am removing your tether to me."
He paused.
"If you need help," he added, "you come to the guild. You speak to Nerissa. You speak carefully."
My tears kept falling anyway.
Theopard leaned back.
"Now," he said, "leave."
Then he glanced at Nerissa.
"Help him pack."
Nerissa bowed her head slightly. "Yes, Guild Master."
I turned, wiping my face with the back of my hand like a child.
Because I was a child.
And I was being peeled out of safety like it was a bandage.
I walked out of the room on heavy steps, shoulders shaking. The corridor felt longer than before.
Everything had gone wrong so fast these past weeks.
Myrina gone.
My body broken.
Now this.
I clenched my teeth, forced myself to breathe.
Then the memory returned—Alcatraz's calm promise.
Access to the Abyss.
Information about floor forty-three.
A chance.
I stopped wiping my tears and wiped them properly this time—hard, angry.
It didn't matter what I became.
If it took me closer to Myrina, I would do it.
No matter what.
Nerissa followed behind me without speaking, letting me rebuild myself in silence.
***
My guest room was small. Bare.
I hadn't owned much to begin with.
Packing was quick.
Two pairs of clothes.
A small coin pouch.
I opened it and counted without thinking—my fingers moving like it was a ritual to calm myself.
14 copper. 78 iron.
Not even enough to pretend I was secure.
I stared at the coins and felt a sick little thought: Food is expensive.
I shook it away.
There was one more thing.
A cheap scrap of paper tucked under my bedding—an old drill note I'd copied once, Ash's words written in my clumsy handwriting:
Breathe. Feet. Centerline. Don't panic.
I stared at it longer than I should have.
Then I folded it carefully and tucked it into my pouch.
Nerissa waited by the door the entire time like a patient guard.
When I finally tied the pouch and slung my small bundle over my shoulder, she spoke.
"You don't need to be scared," she said quietly.
I glanced at her.
Her face was calm, but her eyes were softer than her voice.
"If there's anything," Nerissa continued, "you come back to the guild."
A beat.
"Especially for food," she added, matter-of-fact. "Food is expensive."
The line was so practical it almost made me smile.
Almost.
I nodded. "Thank you."
Nerissa escorted me down to the first floor.
The guild hall looked normal again—quests posted, adventurers drinking, receptionists working, noise filling the space like life.
But it felt different.
Like a home you were being asked to leave.
I looked around and my voice came out small.
"Where's Barrek's party?"
Nerissa answered calmly. "They went to their usual quest."
Of course they did.
The world didn't stop just because my chest had been branded.
I glanced at the receptionist counter. Vira was right there, back in her usual posture, doing her receptionist job like she hadn't spent yesterday crying her heart out. A part of me loosened in relief—I didn't know if I could handle her bursting into tears again.
Beside her, Evelyn's usual counter looked almost eerie—barely any line, just that quiet, strict atmosphere that made people hesitate before stepping forward.
On the other side, Ruru's counter was the exact opposite. A long line stretched out in front of her, and I could hear her bright, airheaded laugh carrying over the noise as she forgot something mid-sentence and then giggled like it was the most normal thing in the world.
And there was another receptionist too—someone I didn't know yet—moving briskly, expression neutral, handling paperwork like she could stamp problems into silence. She was tall, with long golden hair tied into a high ponytail, and even her eyes were a striking gold. Somehow, she reminded me of someone… but I couldn't place who. Her counter had a line just as long as Ruru's, yet she worked through it with a blank, exhausted efficiency—like a person who'd skipped sleep for three days straight. The dark circles under her eyes looked like they had their own shadows. Eyebags on her eyebags.
I shifted my bundle on my shoulder and gave Nerissa a small smile anyway.
"Let's go," I said.
We walked toward the guild entrance.
Toward my long-abandoned home.
And when I stepped out, the guild door closed behind me with a finality that mirrored the Vonel hall doors.
A clean sound.
A hard line.
Like something had been sealed.