The Most Satisfied Reincarnate

After Desmond's departure, Katrina's demeanor underwent a noticeable transformation. She retreated to the secluded area behind the guild and retrieved a small, ornate mirror. Engaging in an incantation, she channeled her magic, causing the reflection within the mirror to gradually shift and transform, taking the form of a shadowy tent.

Though she couldn't physically see her Guildmaster, Katrina had a longstanding practice of keeping him informed of significant developments. "Guildmaster, I have received the latest updates regarding Desmond," she reported, her voice carrying a sense of urgency.

"Wait a moment," a voice resonated from the mirrored surface, as if echoing from a distant chamber.

Katrina patiently awaited her Guildmaster's attention, observing the glass as it shimmered and then settled, finally revealing the figure of her Guildmaster amidst his chamber. He appeared occupied, organizing various items and quietly reciting an incantation.

"Now, go ahead and give me the report," her Guildmaster instructed, his tone authoritative and commanding.

Katrina proceeded to recount the events that had unfolded within the guild, delving into her suspicions concerning Desmond and recounting the attack that had targeted him.

Upon hearing this, a stern expression etched itself onto Issac's face, his brows furrowing with concern.

"Are you absolutely certain about the accuracy of his status?" he inquired, his tone shifting from mere questioning to something more ominous.

"Yes, Guildmaster. I have double-checked on multiple occasions, and his status is undoubtedly accurate," Katrina responded, her voice carrying an unwavering conviction.

As Issac observed Katrina's unwavering confidence, memories from the past resurfaced, evoking a deep sigh that escaped his lips. Eventually, he voiced something of significance.

"Katrina, how long have you been by my side?" he questioned abruptly, his gaze penetrating.

Caught off guard by her Guildmaster's question, Katrina hesitated before answering, "Um... about five years, perhaps?"

Issac shook his head in response, his expression filled with a mix of understanding and concern.

"And yet, even after all this time, you have failed to notice the peculiar aspect of it all? Trust your instincts this time," he advised, his words laden with a cryptic quality.

Katrina found herself perplexed by the enigmatic statement and mustered the courage to seek clarification. "What do you mean, Guildmaster?" she inquired, her eyes reflecting her confusion.

Issac, visible through the mirrored reflection, raised a glass of wine to his lips and took a measured sip before placing it back down.

"Let me ask you again, did you not witness the boy's skills as a 1st swordsman?" he probed further.

"Yes, Guildmaster," Katrina affirmed with a nod.

"But when he shed blood, did it not strike you as disproportionate?" he pressed on, his questioning intent clear.

"Yes, indeed, Guildmaster. It did strike me as such," Katrina agreed, her nods growing more emphatic.

"And now, what do you plan to do next?" Issac inquired, intensifying Katrina's confusion.

"Wait a moment, Guildmaster..." Katrina massaged her temples, attempting to make sense of her Guildmaster's cryptic words, feeling the onset of a headache building within her.

Several minutes passed, during which Katrina's expression transitioned from bewilderment to shock.

"Have I made a grave error?" she asked, her voice trembling with uncertainty.

"Yes, do you know what you need to do now?" he asked.

"Yes, Master," she replied, determination seeping into her voice.

With that, the glass reflection reverted to its normal state, leaving Katrina in a state of disbelief.

"Idiot!" she berated herself, repeatedly striking her head against the wall in frustration. "I hope that kid hasn't gone too far," she thought, her mind racing with worry and regret.

Blood trickled down her forehead from the self-inflicted wounds, but she paid it no mind. In a swift motion, she hurriedly made her way back to the front of the guild table and dashed towards the exit, her urgency apparent.

The guards, taken aback by Katrina's disheveled state, were compelled to follow her and provide assistance. However, she waved them off, signaling that she was too preoccupied to be bothered.

...

Meanwhile, on the road leading to Desmond's temporary residence, he walked aimlessly, his thoughts consumed by the pressing need to secure more funds and ensure his survival. Lost in his contemplations, he passed by the clothing store that Elizabeth used to frequent, oblivious to the fact that someone was trying to catch his attention.

...

At the same time, in front of the clothing shop, Elizabeth spotted Desmond and attempted to greet him. However, he continued walking, oblivious to her presence. Perplexed, she quickened her pace, intending to catch up with him. Yet, she was intercepted by Clark, who stood by her side.

"Wait, Eliz, aren't you afraid of him?" Clark expressed his concern, his brows furrowed.

Ever since Desmond's triumph over Gibson, rumors had circulated about his ruthlessness and cruelty, even causing Elizabeth to display apprehension during their match. Clark, having not witnessed the fight firsthand, believed Desmond to be akin to Matson.

However, upon hearing Elizabeth's account of how she had saved Desmond, a pang of jealousy surged within Clark. For the second time, he felt a sense of unease, fearing that Elizabeth might be drawn towards Desmond and taken away from him, considering how elatedly she spoke of him.

"I won't let you take her away," Clark thought with determination. "After all these years of trying to get closer to this remarkable girl, this is my last chance."

Only after Desmond had passed by did Elizabeth free herself from Clark's grip and cast him a quizzical look.

"What are you doing?" she inquired, her tone conveying a mix of annoyance and confusion.

"Don't you feel any fear?" Clark persisted, taking note of Elizabeth's unwavering stance on the matter.

"No," Elizabeth replied firmly, resolute in her pursuit of Desmond as she prepared to resume her chase.

Clark's adoration for Elizabeth intensified as he fixated his gaze upon her. Without a second thought, he impulsively swept her into his arms, enveloping her in a tight and passionate embrace from behind. The warmth of his touch radiated through her body, leaving an indelible impression.

"Please, Eliz, I can't bear the thought of you getting closer to him, for some inexplicable reason," he pleaded, his words resonating deep within Elizabeth's heart, stirring a torrent of emotions within her.

Her struggle ceased as she fell into a contemplative silence, her mind contemplating the weight of Clark's words. Clark, ever the protector, sought to shield Elizabeth from potential harm, relaying a message of danger that he had received from his own mother.

Clark, unable to witness Elizabeth's expression obscured by her cascading locks of hair, assumed her contemplation, hopeful that she was heeding his concerns. However, when Elizabeth abruptly turned to face him, uncertainty etched across her features, Clark couldn't help but feel a chill run through his veins.

"Actually... I can't explain it either, but there's something unsettling about him," she confessed, her voice tinged with a mix of trepidation and curiosity.

Upon hearing this revelation, a cold glint flashed in Clark's eyes, his attention instantly shifting towards the retreating figure of Desmond. Within that gaze, a hidden intent simmered beneath the surface, vying for resolution.

"Let's leave him behind for now, and immerse ourselves in the day ahead," Clark proposed, narrowing the distance between them. Elizabeth could feel the warmth of Clark's breath on her skin, causing her cheeks to blush a deep crimson, a telltale sign of her hidden emotions.

"Okay," Elizabeth responded softly, her voice filled with a delicate vulnerability that mirrored her growing connection with Clark.

With Elizabeth's agreement, Clark firmly grasped her hips, leading her towards a nearby clothing shop, their bodies in harmonious stride as they embarked on a shared path.

Meanwhile, Desmond meandered through the streets, his subconscious mind registering a sense of déjà vu within the bustling interactions surrounding him. Lost in introspection, he found solace in the comforting familiarity of this world, daydreaming of a simpler life in a peaceful village, tending to gardens and animals.

An existence where concerns revolved around nurturing crops and attending to the well-being of creatures rather than being consumed by the relentless pursuit of wealth.

The concept struck Desmond, prompting a realization to bloom within his mind. "Wait... what if opportunities for work don't solely rely on the guild? What if personal requests could also become a source of income?" A glimmer of possibility ignited a brilliant idea as he neared the gates of his residence.

As he approached the gate, a pair of guards greeted him with respect. Their warm salutations snapped Desmond out of his ruminations, refocusing his attention on the present moment.

"Hello," Desmond reciprocated, upholding his customary habit of acknowledging those around him with genuine regard.

Desmond firmly believed in the significance of personal connections and interactions between employers and subordinates. He understood that cultivating a familial atmosphere, where a sense of belonging thrived, would foster loyalty and dedication among his employees.

One of the guards stepped forward, his face adorned with an authentic smile, and inquired, "Young master, would you be requiring a carriage?" The sincerity radiating from the guard's countenance conveyed a true enjoyment in fulfilling his role.

"Yes, please," Desmond replied amicably, appreciating the commitment and camaraderie exhibited by his devoted guards.

Suddenly, the distant sound of hooves echoed through the air, drawing their attention. As they turned

their gaze, a horse-drawn carriage emerged into view, gracefully approaching their location.