Finance And Little Celebrations

Asher and Sinnett exchanged brief glances before nodding in unison. The headmaster's words weren't even a warning to them but more of a statement—

A simple fact they just had to acknowledge and not break.

Ardent leaned back into his chair, his gaze shifting between them as if he was considering something further. Then, after a few seconds, he exhaled and waved a dismissive hand.

"That's all. You're dismissed."

Neither boy hesitated. Sinnett turned first, his posture relaxed like he had just finished a casual conversation with a stranger and not the headmaster.

Asher followed a second later, leaving Ardent to continue his work. His mind had already shifted toward his next plans… mainly, getting something for Alya and his mother.

He had initially gone through his accounts and expenses—from the time the account was opened to the moment the original owner… died.

In a way, Asher felt somewhat angry with him. The guy had spent all his savings on school for Alya and his mother's hospital bills, which was even more terrifying.

About $20,000 had been spent on her alone. Every month. For three years.

Which meant the previous Asher had spent at least $720,000 on her alone.

Food excluded.

And all that was left? $1,500.

'So much money for a single person… Tch, highway robbery at its finest, he thought.'

But then the lingering feeling that the previous owner might have borrowed that money—or probably did some illegal stuff to get it—annoyed Asher.

However, after further investigation, he discovered the previous Asher had worked three jobs every day, coupled with attending late-night classes at the academy for students who moved at night.

A night-shift sort of arrangement.

Seven hundred and twenty thousand dollars.

Asher slowed down behind Sinnett, pushing his fingers into his hair.

'The idiot's reason is even valid. I, on the other hand, spent half of that on a game, yet I can't even get my win back.'

'Tch, five years of a twenty-thousand-dollar monthly allowance—gone.'

He grabbed a handful of his hair and pulled it slowly.

'The bastard didn't even let me make a request before placing me in this goody two-shoes' body.'

He had already assumed the notification from that moment was from a certain entity—someone who probably had supernatural powers.

Asher clenched and unclenched his fists as more thoughts poured in.

'I need to get money for Alya's fees.'

'Mom's drugs.'

'The stupid bills those bastards sent for heaven knows what.'

'I don't even know how I'm going to handle feeding.'

"Tch," he scoffed aloud and exhaled heavily. "Need to find an arcade and maybe win something to cool off."

Sinnett, who had been watching in silence, stared at Asher with a hint of pity.

He didn't care what was going on with Asher—he only hated the fact that the guy he would have to get along with was fuming so much, not even steam but fire would escape his ears.

Heaving a sigh, he sauntered over to Asher's side, threw an arm over his shoulder, and leaned closer.

"Don't you know what personal space is " Asher mumbled before Sinnett could speak.

But his next words were immediately laughed off.

"You obviously have money issues, so I had to say something. Didn't you read the brochure?"

Asher slowly raised his head and glanced at Sinnett. "Get your hands off me first."

A smirk crawled its way up Sinnett's lips. "And if I don't?" he whispered, silver eyes gleaming with mischief.

"I'll break—"

"…Don't. I could use my hair to beat the hell out of you, bro," Sinnett threatened and withdrew. "Iron rods will only do half of what these will."

"So chill and listen to me."

Asher's brows curved into a frown. He wanted to speak or maybe attack Sinnett, but he had already told himself he wouldn't act like a jerk unless the situation called for it.

And there was a slight possibility he would go home with tiger stripes, which he didn't want.

He exhaled and shoved his hands into his pockets. "Go ahead."

"Thank you." Sinnett smiled warmly. "Now, if you read the brochure you were given before the exam, you should know the guilds pay their members daily, as well as after raids, investigations, basic tasks, and a few other things."

"I see, that's nice," Asher uttered, and then heaved a sigh. "Well, thank you."

"No problem. And by the way, you stared right into the eyes of the headmaster. That was bold."

"You think so?" Asher glanced at him. "Seems like a normal thing to me."

"Normal?" Sinnett scoffed. "Maybe—if normal means staring into your soul while subtly reminding you that stepping out of line equals death."

Asher chuckled at that, but his focus was already shifting elsewhere.

The academy halls were wide and polished, lined with tall windows that overlooked the city and the landscape outside.

Students moved in groups, some chatting, others lost in their own worlds.

Now that his registration was complete, the rest of the day was his. And he knew exactly where he was going first.

"I'm heading out," he said casually, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "Got stuff to do."

Sinnett raised a brow. "Like what?"

"Personal errands."

"Sounds sketchy."

Asher smirked but didn't elaborate. "See you around, exchange student."

With that, he turned, making his way toward the academy's main gates. He didn't need to look back to know Sinnett was watching him leave, likely debating whether or not to follow.

But Asher had no interest in entertaining company.

Right now, his priority was clear, find something to bring home. Something small but meaningful. And then go for his awaiting pay.

As long as he got assigned to a reasonable guild.

Even if his awakening wasn't something to celebrate, Alya and their mother would see it differently.

And for them, he'd make the effort.

Asher made his way down the halls toward the administrative office.

Weaving through the steady flow of students, he kept his head high, occasionally meeting the gaze of those who stared at him, but he didn't care.

He wasn't in a rush, but he also didn't want to waste time. The faster he got his documents, the sooner he could leave.

When he reached the office, he found the school's secretary, an older woman with lifeless black eyes and a no-nonsense expression, flipping through a stack of papers at her desk. She barely glanced up as he stepped inside.

"Name?" she asked, already sorting through files.

"Asher Morgan."

A few seconds later, she pulled out a thin folder and placed it on the counter between them.

"Here. Your registration papers, identification pass, and class assignment confirmation. Make sure not to lose them."

Asher took the folder without a word. He slid it into his bag before nodding in thanks. Then he turned around, heading for his next destination.

The mall—during school hours.