"Take care. I must be on my way," she said finally, then turned and walked away.

  Glen turned his gaze back to the house before him and murmured, "Selling it is indeed the more expedient option..."

  With that, he stepped forward and unlocked the door with the key.

  The interior was adorned with great elegance. There were intricately carved furnishings, sumptuous carpets, resplendent chandeliers, and a fireplace safeguarded by an iron railing.

  He made a thorough inspection of all the rooms. Although everything was immaculately clean, Glen still discerned numerous vestiges of the previous occupant's life.

  Alas, none of these offered any useful leads.

  Glen eventually stood in the drawing - room, surveying the inviting living environment. He felt a faint twinge of reluctance to part with it.

  However, as he had no intention of residing there, keeping it would be a mere waste.

  In the end, he exited the house, intent on ascertaining the property's value.

  The simplest approach was to inquire of residents in similar houses about the sum they had paid when purchasing their abodes.

  Glen casually scanned the vicinity and selected a nearby dwelling. Evidently, someone was in, and the house was of comparable size and style to his.

  A man donning a white felt hat was engaged in trimming the lawn in the front yard of that house. He noticed Glen's approach and turned his head.

  "Hello, sir," Glen called out from a distance.

  The man adjusted his hat and replied, "Hello. What can I do for you?"

  "Well, I was wondering, if you were to sell your house, what price would you set?" Glen asked directly, observing the man's polite demeanor.

  "My house?" The man was somewhat perplexed by Glen's query but nonetheless responded, "This house was bequeathed to me by my father. I'm unsure of its exact worth, but it would surely fetch no less than a hundred gold coins."

  This statement caused Glen to draw a sharp breath. A hundred gold coins! He had yet to amass such a sum, save perhaps by selling the Fire - source Worm.

  The creature was now housed in his underground laboratory, from which he collected the turbid flames that dropped from it daily.

  "Thank you for informing me. In fact, I've just acquired a house similar to yours, that one over there." Glen pointed behind him. "I'm considering selling it. Do you have any suggestions? I might lower the price somewhat."

  The man shook his head. "I'm not here most of the time, so I can't offer you much advice. You'd be better off asking other residents. They might be interested in the house."

  "Very well. Thank you."

  "It's nothing."

  After leaving, Glen approached several more households and posed similar questions.

  Some had no inclination to purchase a house, while others who did, upon seeing Glen's house, firmly shook their heads, stating that the person who had lived there had instilled fear in them, and they dared not take it.

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  Some individuals provided Glen with the addresses of those who might be interested in buying. However, as it was already late, Glen had no choice but to spend the night in the house he'd obtained gratis.

  He had to admit that the bed was both spacious and plush, and it lulled him into a pleasant slumber.

  The following day, it was around nine o'clock when Glen was roused by a knock on the door.

  With great effort, he dragged himself out of bed and made his way to the front door to open it.

  Outside stood two soldiers clad in the kingdom's armor, which immediately put Glen on alert.

  "Is this Mr. Dylan?" inquired one of the soldiers, a man with piercing blue eyes and a prominent nose.

  "I am. What is the matter?" Glen's eyes betrayed the wariness typical of a commoner when confronted by soldiers.

  "We've merely received an order from above to verify if you are the one residing here. There are no other motives," the soldier said courteously.

  "Who issued the order?"

  "We don't know. We're simply following orders."

  The soldier did not appear to be lying.

  Glen's curiosity was increasingly piqued. The person who had given him the house evidently had an official connection and was remarkably concerned about the original owner. Ordinarily, this would suggest a family relation.

  Yet, the same problem persisted: the original owner had no relevant memories.

  "I intend to sell this house soon. So, if you receive further orders to check and find that I'm not here, please convey this information promptly."

  To forestall any future misunderstandings, Glen informed the two soldiers of his plans for the house, hoping they would relay the message to their superiors.

  However, upon hearing this, the two soldiers exchanged a peculiar glance.

  Before Glen could inquire, the blue - eyed soldier spoke up:

  "Actually, this house belongs to the kingdom. I don't believe you have the right to sell it to others."

  "What?" Glen was stunned, as if he witnessed a veritable fortune in gold coins slipping from his grasp. "Wasn't this house already mine?"

  "Sir, you may not be aware. This house is of a special nature. It was specially constructed by the king to reward meritorious subjects. To sell it, one requires numerous procedures and sufficient authority..."

  The soldier explained patiently.

  Upon hearing this, Glen realized that his efforts of the previous day had been in vain. The house was a veritable white elephant.

  "Very well. I understand. I apologize for taking up your time."

  Glen waved his hand wearily.

  The two soldiers nodded and then left side by side.

  Standing there, Glen pondered for a moment but could think of no suitable solution. He could only enter the house to gather his things, prepare to visit the White Bird Publishing House, and then depart from this city.

  He would leave the house as it was for now; perhaps it would prove useful in the future.

  As the first rays of dawn illuminated the sky, the deer - drawn carriage left the residential area, and Glen began to make inquiries in the town.

  As a relatively renowned publishing house, the studio of the White Bird Publishing House was easily locatable.

  Glen merely asked two passers - by at random, and he already knew its precise location.

  Standing in front of the imposing building emblazoned with the sign of the White Bird Publishing House's studio, he did not hasten to enter but instead observed from the outside for a while.

  He could see staff members coming and going, and the hubbub of voices indicated that the place was teeming with people.

  Glen then stepped inside.

  At the side of the entrance, a man resembling a receptionist called out upon seeing a stranger enter:

  "Hey! Sir, you're not a staff member here. You can't enter without permission."

  Glen turned, deliberated for a moment, and said, "Hello, I'm Glen. I've penned some stories, yet the White Bird Publishing House, this very establishment, printed and sold my works in book form without my consent. I feel it necessary to safeguard my rights. What do you think, sir?"

  The man behind the counter was taken aback. As a mere doorkeeper, he was not well - versed in the workings of the publishing house.

  However, he was familiar with the name Glen. The stories penned by this author had reaped substantial profits for the White Bird Publishing House. He had never expected that this had been done without the author's permission.

  This was a matter beyond his purview. The kingdom's laws were relatively comprehensive, and the protection of personal copyright was rather stringent. If this matter escalated, it could prove troublesome.

  "Please wait a moment. I need to inform our chief editor. Apologies."

  Moments later, a middle - aged man with a receding hairline, sharp features, and thin lips hurried down. Upon seeing Glen, he exclaimed, "Forgive us! Respected writer! Please hear our explanation!"