- You've passed the document screening. The interview will be held on the 15th of this month...

  Sibonen stared at the paper as if trying to burn a hole through it.

  He felt an odd mix of joy and bitterness.

  "How did it come to this? I'm betting everything just to get a merchant guild job now..."

  Once, he had been a proud courtier in charge of the entire Grand Duchy of Bern.

  He even received scouting offers from the royal capital.

  But now, he was just another fallen noble, scrambling for scraps.

  "Still, how could I accept that?"

  His thoughts drifted back to the worst day of his life.

  It happened at a party hosted by the Grand Duke of Bern, a powerful figure and a member of the royal family.

  In front of countless onlookers, Sibonen had reached out and plucked a single white hair from a young noblewoman's head.

  "My dy, it seems a touch of winter has graced your beautiful hair."

  At the time, Sibonen had thought it was a clever, charming line.

  He mistook the dy’s blushing face for embarrassment.

  Moments ter, guards stormed in, and the Grand Duke, face twisted in disgust, ordered his arrest.

  "Do you even realize what you've done?"

  Sibonen thought it was all a misunderstanding.

  But when he found himself imprisoned in the underground cells of the Duke’s castle, he knew something had gone terribly wrong.

  "Under the royal w, harassment of a princess is punishable by death. However, thanks to the magnanimity of Princess Loren, you shall be punished within the duchy instead."

  Princess Loren accused him of harassment, ciming he had made indecent advances while touching her hair.

  Sibonen’s protests of innocence were utterly ignored.

  "They said they'd strip me naked and chain me in the public square for a week,"

  he thought bitterly.

  And the princess had the audacity to call that "mercy."

  A single white hair — that’s all it took to ruin his life.

  After enduring days of misery in the dungeon, he was dragged before a tribunal.

  "The accused, Sibonen Headwicker, shall be stripped of all titles, and punished according to the National Disposition Act...“

  They gave him a choice: either pay an impossible fine or be exiled to the western frontier for two years of forced bor.

  Sibonen, desperate, chose the fine.

  Even selling everything he owned wouldn't be enough, but at least it wasn't forced bor — not yet.

  "First, put out the fire right in front of you," he told himself.

  Despite everything, he was still a nobleman.

  There had to be someone out there who would recognize his talents.

  "This isn't the end. I’ll rise again, no matter what."

  He began job hunting with what little pride he had left.

  But the reality was harsh. No noble wanted to hire someone branded with scandal.

  If he couldn't even pay the interest on his fine this month, exile would be inevitable.

  "If nobles won’t hire me... maybe the private sector will."

  He started sending out résumés to merchant guilds and frontier companies.

  Days passed.

  Finally, a letter arrived.

  With trembling hands, Sibonen tore it open — only to find it was from his fiancée.

  "Sibonen, I hope you remember that your disgusting actions have ruined everything between us.

  For the sake of our family's honor, I wish you would end your own life."

  — Your former fiancée, Sharika.

  The words cut deeper than he expected.

  That night, another letter arrived — this one from his parents.

  "Sibonen Headwicker, from this day forward, you are no longer part of our family.

  May your disgrace not taint our house further."

  — Aden Headwicker.

  His parents had disowned him.

  Everything he had ever known, lost in an instant.

  "It’s fine," he told himself. "There’s still somewhere I can work. I didn’t survive the academy and the university for nothing."

  He remembered the sleepless nights, the endless studying, the battles fought to rise through the ranks.

  "If I ever have children, I’ll teach them a real skill... make them work at a newspaper or something from age five."

  He chuckled bitterly at the thought.

  It all seemed so far away now.

  Still, he clung to hope.

  Three days ter, a miracle happened.

  A merchant guild sent him a notice: he had passed the document screening.

  It was the first response he'd received after dozens of applications.

  Wearing his best clothes, he headed to the interview.

  The grandeur of the building made him hesitate.

  He had once overseen an entire duchy — and now, he was here, begging for a merchant's job.

  But this was all he had left.

  At the interview table, Sibonen lifted his chin and spoke boldly.

  "May I ask about the compensation?"

  The middle-aged man at the center of the panel looked up from the documents.

  "And what kind of sary are you expecting?"

  Without hesitation, Sibonen answered.

  "I’m asking for a signing bonus of five gold coins, and a monthly sary of five gold coins.

  I'm ready to work through the 28th of every month."

  The man adjusted his gsses, scrutinizing Sibonen's résumé.

  "Impressive resume... including your criminal record.

  You realize you're asking for four times the average worker's sary?"

  Sibonen’s heart sank.

  He hadn’t written anything about that — the rumors had already reached here.

  "I’m aware," Sibonen replied calmly. "I believe I can offer more than enough value to justify the cost.

  Despite recent... incidents, I can contribute significantly to the guild’s future."

  There was no turning back.

  "If I fail here... there might not be another chance," he thought grimly.

  "Very well," the man said. "Tell me what innovations you can bring to the table."

  Sibonen straightened.

  "I’m fluent in the nguages of the Northern Kingdom and the Eastern Realms.

  I can assist in expanding our trade routes.

  Also...“

  He took a breath.

  "I served over two years managing administrative operations for the Grand Duchy.

  I can streamline transport logistics and security allocation.

  I also graduated from the Imperial University and served two years as an officer."

  Silence.

  "Did I brag too much?" he worried.

  "I’m willing to work wherever the guild needs me," he added quickly. "Even outside my expertise."

  The middle-aged man exchanged gnces with the others, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

  "Interesting," he said.

  The woman beside him spoke sharply.

  "Still, that was your past. What about now?"

  Sibonen opened his mouth to answer, but she continued.

  "We’ll discuss your case further with the executives.

  Thank you for coming."

  Sibonen's instincts screamed: this was not good.

  He swallowed his pride.

  "May I... say one st thing?"

  The man chuckled and nodded.

  Sibonen bowed slightly.

  "I may not be perfect, but I adapt quickly.

  If you give me a chance, I'll prove I'm a worthy asset."

  Desperation ced his voice.

  The woman handed him a sealed envelope.

  "Here’s a token of appreciation for your time."

  Sibonen bowed again and left the room, feeling hollow.

  "Do I need to sell everything and flee to the Northern Kingdom?

  Maybe disappear forever..."

  When he arrived home, tax collectors were already waiting.

  "Agh..."

  Just like in the old stories, the taxmen never missed their mark.

  His home, his belongings — everything was seized.

  All he had left were a few sets of clothes and a handful of coins.

  "It's all gone. There's nowhere left to run."