CHAPTER 38: ONE LAST QUIET DAY.

"Life," they say, "always finds a way."

Yeah. A way to say ’Fuck you’

Just when you think life’s finally playing nice... Just when you’re about to raise a toast to someone else’s misery...

Life leans in, smiles and says, "Now it’s your turn."

Then it starts screwing you—slowly, thoroughly and without consent.

Now, don’t get me wrong—I’m not talking about my own devastatingly handsome self. I have made peace with life’s nonsense. Hell, I even got used to it back in my last life... before I became a billionaire, of course.

No, this particular tragedy belonged to someone else.

A traitorous bastard currently floating in front of me as if he had been screwed so fast he didn’t even feel the pain until the soreness began to spread.

My dear ol’ sentient cloak.

This bastard—I was definitely sure—was laughing while Ru was doing her little makeover experiment on me.

It didn’t even try to help. No protest or even a try to sacrifice itself nobly in my stead.

It just floated there, like a smug spectator, silently enjoying the show.

"So, you are back, huh?" I asked.

The cloak nodded with its hood.

I wanted to stay mad, for it’s betrayal but looking at the poor guy... I couldn’t just control my laughter.

Ru hadn’t spared this guy from her creativity either.

Still, I wasn’t an insensitive jerk. So, I controlled myself.

It now had weird, mismatched eyes stitched onto its hood... the kind that followed you no matter where you stood. Its body was lined with different shapes and jagged symbols. Some of which definitely looked like cursed carvings—the kind that whispers sweet nothings before gulping your soul.

Poor guy.

I stepped closer and gently patted its hood, channeling mana into the fabric. A soft blue glow covered it and slowly, the marks began to fade.

This was the cloak’s auto-repair function.

No matter how badly it was damaged, as long as I was willing to spend the mana... it would always restore itself to its perfect condition. As long as it’s not obliterated completely that is.

It bowed before me—or at least that’s how it looked—before it tried to strap itself to my back like the dramatic bastard it was.

But I stopped it with a single finger and pointed to the hanger in the corner of my room.

I mean, come on—it was bedtime. Who the hell sleeps with a sentient cloak clinging to their back?

I wasn’t that lonely.

Its hood drooped in defeat.

But it followed my order and floated over and hung itself on the coat hanger as if it was a criminal being executed.

Tch. Dramatic bastard.

I left it to its own device and flopped onto my bed, staring at the ceiling.

After the long day—filled with chaos and bearly heartbreak—I was finally back in one piece.

It was peaceful. But I knew it wouldn’t last.

Because tomorrow...

Tomorrow was the day.

The day of my departure. And it was going to be hectic.

Ru still didn’t know I was leaving.

And knowing her? She wasn’t going to take it quietly.

"Haah"

A sigh left me without even a thought.

My bear butler wasn’t here.

After returning from the forest, the first thing I did was report to Father. Told him—very casually, mind you—that I made a new friend who wanted to follow me out of sheer admiration for my noble self.

He raised a brow in suspicion and pressed me for details.

I, in turn, gave him the most honest answer I had: "Things happened. Now I have a familiar related to my class."

He didn’t laugh. Didn’t scold. Didn’t even sigh, calling me a little bastard like he always did.

He just nodded, his crimson eyes filled with exhaustion.

He had been working tirelessly to cancel my departure to Noxvalen—reaching out to every contact, every favor, every ancient name in his reach.

All to find a way to break a soul contract.

But there wasn’t one. At least not known to anyone.

I felt bad. Really, I did. But there was nothing I could do... except promise him the only thing I could.

That I wouldn’t die.

Still, he wasn’t exactly thrilled about letting a red-furred, menacing Alpha Bear follow me around without some assurance that it wouldn’t rip my head off in my sleep.

So, he asked to keep the bear with him until tomorrow—to assess if it posed any danger.

I agreed. But only after he promised he wouldn’t hurt him.

After all, the bear was my subordinate.

And I take good care of my slav—I mean, subordinate.

Having a tamed beast was rare, but not exactly legendary. So it wasn’t the end of the world.

And most importantly? Familiars were allowed into Noxvalen.

That academy banned servants, attendants and pretty much anyone who might fetch your slippers for you. But familiars? They were different. They weren’t companions—they were considered an extension of the Master’s own strength.

Which meant, there was no problem with Bearlo joining me to the academy.

Yeah, you heard that right—Bearlo. That’s what I decided to name him.

I mean, I couldn’t just keep calling him "Alpha" or "hey, you." That’s no way to treat a loyal subordinate.

When I asked if he had a name of his own, he explained that bear-kind doesn’t bother with names. They use scent to recognize each other.

So obviously, the responsibility fell to me with my unparalleled, oh-so-creative naming sense, to give him a worthy name.

I gave him options. Glorious ones.

Growl. Bearthur. Even Crimsanity.

Each one a masterpiece and peak innovation, I must say.

But no. He turned them all down and chose the most boring of them all—Bearlo.

As if that was the most normal name of the bunch. Which, honestly, was rude—considering the sheer amount of creativity I had invested.

I personally liked the name "Bearthur PenBear."

It had class and dignity but who was going to tell this to that stupid bear?

With nothing else to do, my mind wandered to my hectic day. Especially to the Trickster.

Because whatever that bastard was... he didn’t die like a normal entity.

He resurrected people even as he was but a shadow of what he once was.

That alone reeked of trouble.

And if life had taught me anything, it was this:

The stronger someone is... the stronger the bastards who want them dead.

And now, with me being his so-called "successor candidate"?

Yeah.

Trouble wasn’t just coming for me. It probably wanted to marry me, even have kids with me and spend a lifetime with me until it kills me.

So romantic, right?

But thinking about it wouldn’t solve anything.

So I did what any rational man would do—I decided to check my stats. Especially the new skill I got after the assistant contract.

"Status," I muttered.

The familiar translucent window appeared into view as always.

But just as I was about to read—

BANG.

Someone barged into my room like the concept of knocking personally offended them.

I swear to the stars, I don’t know what kind of karmic curse exists between me and my status window...

But every damn time I try to check it, someone interferes without a miss.

"What the fuck do you think you’re doing, you little brat?"

A voice echoed across the room.

I sighed.

Here we go again.

_______________________