Chapter 26: The Dark Mage

"Hungry now?" Glen teased gently.

Bonnie didn't reply, only lowering her head in embarrassment.

Suddenly, Glen stood and opened the cloth bag he'd brought. One by one, he pulled out a large slab of pork, a basket of vegetables, spices, cooking oil, and even a flat-bottomed pan. Bonnie stared, her mouth agape.

"Where's your kitchen?" Glen asked the stunned girl.

Bonnie pointed instinctively toward a room. Glen gathered the items and headed there.

Just then, Bonnie snapped to her senses. She rushed forward, blocking his path. "Mr. Glen, we can't accept these! They're too precious!"

"Yet you ate plenty at my place," Glen replied with a half-smile.

"I…" Bonnie flushed with shame.

"It's fine. I have more than enough," he said firmly. "Consider this compensation for the trouble I caused your family."

Ignoring her protests, he walked into the kitchen.

Bonnie watched as Glen rolled up his sleeves and lit the stove with practiced ease. She bit her lip softly…

"Mr. Glen, let me help." She mimicked him, rolling up her own sleeves and stepping inside.

"Wash these vegetables then," he nodded toward the produce. "Learn while you're at it. A girl should know how to cook—for her mother, or friends."

Bonnie's eyes lit up. She adored Glen's cooking; learning even a little would be a gift.

Time slipped by. When Bonnie's mother reentered the house, the rich aroma of food filled the air. Several dishes sat steaming on the table.

Bonnie emerged from the kitchen carrying a plate of stir-fried pork. Beaming at her mother, she exclaimed, "Mama! Sit down! Mr. Glen made specialties from his homeland—you have to try!"

"This…" Bonnie's mother froze, struggling to process the scene.

Glen followed, drying his hands on a cloth. "I borrowed your kitchen, Ma'am. I hope you don't mind."

"O-of course not…" Mrs. Sally stammered, waving her hands.

"Good." Glen gestured to the table. "Taste it."

In a daze, Mrs. Sally sat beside her daughter. The dishes smelled divine—crisp vegetables glistening in oil, golden-brown pork slices, and a savory stew she couldn't name. Her mouth watered.

She took a spoon from Bonnie and scooped up a bite of meat. At the first chew, unfamiliar flavors exploded on her tongue. Her eyes widened.

Bonnie was already eating ravenously, hunger overriding manners after days of picking at food.

Love that wide-eyed wonder, Glen noted inwardly, hiding a smirk.

The three ate together. Glen chatted casually with Mrs. Sally, learning about their lives: she worked at the cotton mill, neighbors called her "Mrs. Sally," and yes—she was a widow. Her husband had been killed by a passing noble's guard years ago. She'd raised Bonnie alone, scraping together school fees. Though fatherless, Bonnie had known little hardship thanks to her mother's steady job.

After the meal, Glen rose to leave. Mrs. Sally quickly intervened: "Stay the night, child. It's too late—and unsafe lately. The town's uneasy after dark."

"You'd reach Byek past midnight!" Bonnie added urgently.

Staying overnight? Awkward… Glen smiled politely. "No need to worry, Ma'am. I'll be careful."

He turned and vanished into the moonless night.

Meanwhile: Channis Manor

Lord Channis set down a letter and sighed. "Summon Barbour," he told his steward.

"At once, my Lord." The stiff-backed old man bowed and left.

Minutes later, Barbour entered in full armor. He saluted, awaiting orders.

"Capture that commoner, Glen," Channis said, voice icy. "Make sure he never forgets the cost of insulting nobility."

"Understood!" Barbour saluted again and turned to leave.

"Wait." Channis's gaze sharpened. "Do not enter Byek township. If you rouse what sleeps there… even I cannot shield you."

"I'll remember." Barbour's reply was grave. He strode out.

Lady Sophia entered, watching the knight's retreat. "Your friend replied?" she asked.

"He did. Glen's no one of note—no records, no connections. My friend triple-checked."

"Perfect!" Sophia's smile turned vicious. "That brute struck our son! He must suffer—"

"I won't kill him," Channis cut in wearily. "A harsh lesson suffices."

"Why?!" Sophia gaped.

"Byek holds… things best left undisturbed. And our house weakens." He rubbed his temples. "Killing a commoner now? Too messy."

His visit to Baron Berlin—a bid for political lifelines—had ended with a closed door. Their decline was irreversible.

Dud Town: A Dim Tavern

The door creaked open. A travel-worn man entered, his plain clothes dusty, his face shadowed and unremarkable. He scanned the room, eyes settling on a striking figure by the window.

He walked over and sat opposite her.

"A mage dressed as… a peasant?" Lady Murphy sneered, swirling her wine. "How quaint."

"Enough!" The man's voice was a low snarl. "Give me what I came for, bloodsucker."

"That's how you bargain?" Murphy's eyes narrowed. "You sought me. Learn courtesy—or leave."

"Vampires deserve none." He leaned back, contempt dripping. "Now hand it over. This wastes my time."

Murphy's fingers clenched under the table. Her irises began to glow crimson. "This trade is over. Find another supplier."

She stood. Before she could move, his next words froze her: "I wonder how your crypt would fare… against paladins and archmages?"

"You threaten me?" The air around Murphy shimmered. Patrons shifted, suddenly breathless, unaware of the source.

"Yes." The mage traced his mug's rim, eyes dead. "If bloodshed occurs here, fool… it'll be you who dies."