CHAPTER 48: CH 48: A DISTRACTIOIN- PART 1

Fenrir sighed deeply, rubbing the bridge of his nose as he stared at the girl munching on a cold sandwich like she owned the place.

Renie met his gaze without shame, casually swinging her legs as if she hadn’t just broken into a ranker’s home uninvited.

Her oversized hoodie hung loosely off her small frame, and there were crumbs sticking to her cheek.

"I thought I told you not to bother me."

Fenrir muttered, lowering the weapon in his hand—a short spear he hadn’t even remembered storing.

"You didn’t say that. You just walked past me and slammed the door in my face. Very different thing."

Renie replied through a mouthful.

Fenrir exhaled again, this time more out of resignation than frustration.

"You broke into my house."

"I walked in. Door was unlocked. That’s your fault, not mine. Also, you’re out of mustard."

She paused, holding up the half-eaten sandwich.

He stared at her for a long moment.

"Why are you here?"

"My brother sent me. Said you’re reckless and stubborn and you need someone to keep you from dying or causing an international incident. Or both.|

She said with a shrug.

"Figures. And you just decided to accept?"

Fenrir muttered. He leaned against the wall, arms crossed.

Renie gave him a look.

"I don’t exactly say no when an S-class gives an order. Plus, it’s not like I had anything better to do. Thought I’d see what the great ’X’ lives like."

Fenrir frowned.

"You know who I am?"

"Fredric told me. Told me to keep my mouth shut too, so don’t worry. Your secret’s safe. Not that it’s very well protected if you leave your front door unlocked."

She said simply.

Fenrir grumbled under his breath.

"I’ll fix it later."

"Or now. I’m not sleeping in a house that anyone can just walk into. I value my life, thank you very much."

She said, jumping off the counter and walking toward the hallway.

He watched her go, still unsure how to feel about her presence.

Rick’s sister or not, Renie was an intruder. But she was also an S-class, apparently assigned to him, and that meant she could be useful. Maybe.

Still, he didn’t like this loss of control.

He had carefully avoided drawing people in, preferring to keep his distance. Complications were the last thing he wanted.

But she was already here. And something told him she wasn’t leaving any time soon.

With a grunt, Fenrir walked back into his bedroom and fell face-first onto the bed. He needed sleep. There were bigger problems to deal with.

The tower.

He rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling, his mind shifting gears again. His theory had merit.

The dungeon distribution was too high, and the mana density had increased at an alarming rate.

It wouldn’t be long before the system chose to merge the chaos—just like it had in his last life.

A tower.

It would become the epicenter of global power, pulling the strongest and most foolish alike. Governments would crumble. Guilds would rise.

And the economy would bend around the tower’s ecosystem. Potions, weapons, armor—all of it would hinge on access to the tower’s materials.

Fenrir, however, had an advantage. He knew what was coming. He had months—two at least—to prepare.

To secure his supply lines. To increase production efficiency.

If he moved right, he could dominate the potion market before others even realized what was happening.

The only issue was the tower’s replenishment cycle. It was fast, yes, but access was limited.

Entry required keys. Keys required power. And the ingredients inside the tower... some of them would be guarded by creatures beyond even current S-classes.

He’d need to level up. A lot.

"Ugh."

He muttered, dragging a pillow over his face.

And now he had a babysitter to deal with.

Fenrir rubbed his temples, still groggy from the rough night.

His instincts hadn’t let him sleep deeply—not with someone else in the house.

Even now, after sunrise, the sense of someone unfamiliar sharing his space made his skin crawl.

He’d woken up multiple times during the night, alert and half-ready to fight, even though he never sensed Renie actually making a move.

Still, it was exhausting.

He pulled on a loose shirt and wandered into the dining room, hoping for a quiet moment with coffee and perhaps some toast.

Instead, he was greeted by the sight of Renie already seated at the table, feet propped up on a chair, sipping from a familiar vial.

Fenrir froze.

Renie gave him a bright smile.

"Good morning! Hope you don’t mind, I was thirsty and found this in your fridge. Tastes amazing, by the way."

Fenrir blinked at the vial in her hand. He recognized the shimmering gold liquid immediately.

"Is that—did you just drink a stamina potion?"

Renie tilted the vial back and finished the last drop.

"Mhm. That’s what it said on the label. It works fast too—I feel like I could run a marathon and fight a monster at the same time."

She stretched her arms behind her back and gave a satisfied groan.

"Can I have more?"

Fenrir looked like he was physically restraining himself from yelling.

"That potion costs several million credits. That was a premium-grade batch. You just drank a house."

Renie blinked.

"Oh."

There was a short silence. Then she shrugged.

"Consider it part of my payment. I’m risking my life to guard you, after all."

"You weren’t invited. And no one asked for a bodyguard."

Fenrir muttered, sitting down with a dramatic sigh.

"Still got one though." She leaned back in her chair, looking far too pleased with herself.

"And if you’re going to make stuff like that, I’d say you need one. Imagine if someone broke in and took your fridge full of miracle juice."

Fenrir grimaced. That was exactly the kind of thing he had been worried about.

Not many people could tell a stamina potion apart from colored water—but someone like Renie definitely could.

If an S-class could recognize his potions by effect alone, it was only a matter of time before word spread. Then people would come. In droves.

He eyed Renie again. She didn’t seem malicious—just impulsive and nosy. And costly.

He needed to get rid of her before she drained his inventory and his bank account.

But before he could speak, Renie yawned and stood up.

"I’m bored. This house is too quiet. Nothing to do. You don’t even have a TV. But whatever, I’ll put up with it. It’s my job."

Fenrir stopped mid-sip of his coffee.

That gave him an idea.

She was bored. That was something he could work with.

"Actually, if you’re so eager to do your job, I have something for you."

He said slowly.

Renie raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah?"

Fenrir leaned forward slightly.

"I need ingredients. Potion materials. Rare ones. From dungeons."

"Go on."

"There are a few open dungeons nearby. Low to mid-tier ones that have what I need. They’re messy, repetitive, and annoying to deal with, especially when I’m trying to work."

He gave her a pointed look.

"Think you can handle them?"

Renie grinned.

"You want me to farm dungeons for you?"

"Exactly. Bring me what I need, and you can consider that your duty fulfilled. You get to fight, I get my peace and quiet, and nobody has to die over stolen potions."

She paused, considering the offer.

"Do I get to keep anything?"

"Anything that’s not on my list is yours. And no more touching my fridge."

She snorted.

"Fair enough."

Fenrir got up and fetched a list he’d scribbled down the night before while thinking about potential potion upgrades.

"Here. Get what’s on this. Don’t come back until you’ve got at least half."

Renie took the list, scanned it quickly, then tucked it into her hoodie pocket.

"Alright. I’ll leave in a bit. Try not to miss me."

"I won’t."

Fenrir said flatly.

As Renie left the room, humming under her breath, Fenrir sat back down, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

It wasn’t a permanent solution, but it was a start. He had dungeons to plan for, ingredients to stockpile, and now—thanks to Renie—a little more free time to think ahead.