TSEDK 04

As the morning sun rose through the pale mist, Lowfang and Ethan took a seat in one corner of the inn.

In the middle of a dining hall teeming with rough-looking mercenaries, the two ordered a simple breakfast.

However, even while they waited for their food, there was little chance of peace and quiet.

“Ha! I win this time!”

A group of mercenaries had claimed a large table and were gambling while keeping a wary eye on one another.

The most conspicuous figure among them was a young man with straw-colored hair.

He spread his cards with a satisfied grin.

“The Emperor’s Blessing, the Shadow Lord, and the Omen of Doom. Victory is mine!”

The man shouted excitedly as he swept the coins toward himself.

“Good! Let’s raise the stakes this time! I’m betting my entire fortune!”

The other mercenaries snickered.

“That bastard’s really getting carried away.”

“This’ll be his last round, anyway.”

Lowfang watched the scene with interest before chuckling.

“Ethan, want to guess who’ll make the most money at that table? If you get it right, breakfast is on me. If you’re wrong, you pay.”

Lowfang smiled casually as he regarded Ethan with eyes as sharp as blades.

“Here. Bring me ten pieces of grain bread, three bowls of stew, three servings of bacon omelets, and four steaks.”

He then casually slipped in a mention of just how enormous his appetite was.

Ethan’s eyes widened.

“…Are you sure you can eat all that?”

“Of course.”

Faced with Lowfang’s confident expression, Ethan checked his purse.

He had left in such a hurry that he hadn’t brought much travel money. He had only six silver coins to his name.

For reference, the food Lowfang had ordered cost approximately four silver coins and thirty copper coins.

‘In the end, this isn’t all that different from Go-Stop.’

Ethan calmly examined the gambling table.

He analyzed the mercenaries’ expressions and movements, the flow of money, and who was making the biggest profits. Before long, he reached a conclusion.

“The man with the straw-colored hair is finished.”

“Why?”

Lowfang raised an eyebrow, intrigued, and Ethan answered immediately.

“From the very beginning, that man has been serving as a source of money for the people running the game. The mercenaries said this would be his last round, but they were only trying to persuade him to bet his entire fortune. He thinks he has a good hand, but the others have already figured him out. Someone else is controlling the game itself.”

Lowfang folded his arms and rubbed his chin.

“So, who’s going to make the most money in the end?”

Ethan slowly pointed toward the gambling table.

“The dealer.”

An intrigued smile spread across Lowfang’s face.

The man dealing the cards had been taking a fixed cut after every round. As the game continued, the money naturally accumulated in his hands.

“Just as I thought. You’re quick with calculations, and your eye for detail is impressive.”

Lowfang chuckled softly.

“Fine. Breakfast is on me.”

With that, Lowfang leisurely rose from his seat.

Ethan glanced at the gambling table one more time.

The fate of the straw-haired man had already been decided.

He had yet to realize that he wasn’t the protagonist of the game, but merely a disposable pawn.

‘So, if I want to become a tax collector, I have to pay attention to every little detail like that.’

That was how one survived in this world.

And that was precisely why Ethan couldn’t help asking Lowfang, who was teaching him how to do just that, about his destination.

“By the way, Sir Lowfang. Where exactly am I going?”

“Come to think of it, I forgot to tell you the most important part. To become a tax collector, you naturally need to know tax law, and you must possess both martial prowess and survival skills. There’s only one place where you can develop all those abilities: a training camp.”

“Oh, so there’s a place like that. Maybe some of your old classmates are there, too.”

“No. All of them were killed by the children of tax evaders, except for me. Pathetic fools. Bwahahahaha!”

“…”

As Lowfang laughed so casually, Ethan found it difficult to tell whether he was joking or being completely serious.

Carcerium was a training camp established to cultivate tax collectors, specialists responsible for collecting taxes throughout the continent.

It had been founded after the Astar Empire accomplished the monumental task of unifying the continent.

Ironically, however, the economy was in shambles, standing on the brink of collapse.

Provincial lords, in particular, had taken advantage of the central government’s limited reach to arbitrarily reduce their taxes or refuse to pay them altogether.

Some even referred to this period as the Age of Chaos.

As a result, the nation’s finances deteriorated, and wars and rebellions continued to erupt throughout the continent.

To restore order, a man named Aion Legatus emerged.

He established a system of tax collectors backed by powerful laws and military force, recognizing the need to train specialized personnel capable of enforcing it.

And thus, Carcerium was born.

Upon entering the training camp, Ethan stared blankly at the inscription above the entrance, carved into a massive iron gate, his expression one of utter disbelief.

[Those Who Do Not Pay Taxes Shall Bleed]

The words conveyed the resolve required to collect taxes with unmistakable clarity. Yet Ethan couldn’t help feeling somewhat uneasy.

‘What the hell? Is this a place for training tax collectors or a school for legally sanctioned thugs?’

“Nothing’s changed, I see.”

Lowfang stroked his chin as though he were feeling nostalgic. Soon, the gatekeepers approached him.

“It’s been a long time, Sir Lowfang.”

“Oh! Looks like you’ve all been doing well.”

The gatekeepers bowed respectfully, and Lowfang patted each of them on the shoulder a couple of times.

“This boy is a new recruit.”

“…Oh, dear.”

They all turned to look at Ethan with expressions of pity.

“Excuse me, but have I been dragged onto a battlefield or something?”

Ethan protested before he could stop himself, but Lowfang paid him no mind and continued speaking.

“Please escort the boy to the waiting room. The entrance ceremony is tomorrow, so I’ll see you then.”

Lowfang gave a faint smile, said what he wanted to say, and departed without another word.

A short while later, Ethan followed the gatekeeper into the training camp’s waiting room.

Creak.

The moment the door closed behind him, every gaze in the room turned toward him.

It was a familiar sensation.

Whether during college admissions or in the workplace, it wasn’t difficult to recognize when people were evaluating him. Ethan maintained an impassive expression and looked around the room without averting his eyes.

The room was a dim stone chamber without a single window.

Iron chairs lined the walls, and a large circular table occupied the center.

On the table lay steel coins engraved with Carcerium’s insignia. A few people idly rolled them between their fingers to pass the time.

Each trainee had their own way of easing their nerves.

There appeared to be around twenty-three people in total.

Ethan’s gaze lingered on several of them.

The first was a man leaning against the door.

He was tall and broad-shouldered.

His short-cropped white hair made him look like a soldier.

With his arms folded, he silently surveyed his surroundings. His gaze was sharp and calculating, and it was obvious he had seen plenty of combat.

‘Probably a mercenary or a soldier. He might be the most dangerous person here.’

The second was a red-haired woman.

She sat with her long legs crossed.

She flicked a coin on the table with her pale fingers, a relaxed smile playing on her lips.

Yet it was immediately apparent that her smile was a mask. Her eyes weren’t smiling at all.

‘People like her are the scariest. You never know when they’ll go for your throat.’

The third was a boy who looked rather young.

He appeared younger than Ethan, but his fingers were tattooed.

He nervously bit his nails and glanced around the room. Despite his anxiety, there was something about him that suggested he had struggled desperately to survive.

This time, Ethan found it easy to identify his type.

There was a very high chance they worked in the same line of business.

‘A thief, most likely. I wonder how long he’ll last.’

The fourth was a blond young man with delicate features.

His sharp eyes and firm lips gave him an arrogant appearance. His gaze radiated contempt and disdain.

‘Just look at him. He’s obviously some stuck-up noble’s brat.’

Ethan casually pulled out an iron chair and sat down.

The atmosphere in the room was heavy and tense.

Everyone—all the hunting dogs in the room—was sizing everyone else up.

Meanwhile, in the training commandant’s office…

A thick wooden desk stood at the center of the room, giving the otherwise simple space an imposing atmosphere.

Seated behind it with his arms folded was Vanguard, the head of the training camp.

He had a stocky, sturdy build reminiscent of a dwarf, with a broad chest and wide shoulders that seemed even more imposing atop his short legs. Above all, his deep, booming voice possessed enough authority to fill the entire room.

Vanguard looked at Lowfang and asked gruffly,

“What on earth brought you all the way here?”

Lowfang was leaning casually against the doorway, wearing his characteristic relaxed smile.

“Can’t you at least offer me some tea?”

Vanguard narrowed his eyes and bluntly replied,

“No.”

Even so, he silently took out a cup and roughly poured some tea into it.

The cup was so enormous that calling it a teacup seemed inappropriate. It was practically a cooking pot.

Vanguard handed it over without ceremony.

“Drink.”

Lowfang smiled warmly and took a sip.

“Just as good as I remember.”

Vanguard sighed and asked,

“So, why did you use your tax-exemption privileges as a first-class tax collector to reduce someone’s taxes? It’s not like you to show that kind of mercy.”

Lowfang set down his cup and smiled.

“The kid shows promise.”

Vanguard raised an eyebrow.

“Promise? That doesn’t sound like you.”

Lowfang gazed out the window. The cold air of Carcerium seemed to seep into the room.

“I intend to raise that boy properly.”

Vanguard folded his arms and looked at Lowfang before speaking sarcastically.

“So, in the end, what’s the difference between that and telling him to pay off his debts with his own body because he has no money?”

He clicked his tongue and shook his head.

Yet a faint trace of interest flickered in his eyes.

Lowfang chuckled lightly.

“It’s different. That boy will survive on his own in the end.”

Vanguard stared at him in silence.

This was the first time since his comrades had died that Lowfang had shown such faith in someone…

Back in Carcerium’s waiting room…

Ethan was growing a little tired of the tense standoff with people whose names he didn’t even know.

‘This is suffocating. Is it really so hard to strike up a conversation?’

Ethan was fairly good at making small talk. With a broad smile, he stood up.

“Getting bored? Because I’m bored out of my mind. Why don’t we introduce ourselves? I’m Ethan Fritz. What’s your name?”

Ethan’s words eased the atmosphere a little.

Starting with him, the trainees introduced themselves one by one.

The boy with short, white hair spoke first.

“Nicholas.”

Next, the red-haired girl answered.

“Rebecca.”

Then came the gloomy-looking boy.

“Baruk.”

Finally, the boy who appeared to be a noble introduced himself.

“Koren.”

‘Finally, I can breathe a little.’

Simply learning their names made Ethan realize that the atmosphere had become slightly more relaxed.

But that moment of relief lasted only briefly.

BANG!

A man kicked open the waiting room door, immediately reigniting everyone’s tension.

“Now that leaves me to introduce myself. I’m Instructor Walter. Listen up, you greenhorns.”

His rough voice filled the room.

The speaker was Instructor Walter. He stepped forward with his arms folded and continued.

“Tomorrow, you’ll attend the entrance ceremony. But before that, we need to choose a class representative. The representative receives special privileges. Better accommodations, better food, and priority when it comes to training schedules. So I imagine some of you ambitious bastards will be interested.”

The atmosphere in the waiting room heated up instantly.

Some trainees’ eyes lit up, while others made no effort to hide their competitive instincts.

Ethan, however, wore a bored expression.

He folded his arms, making his lack of interest painfully obvious.

But at that very moment, a quest window appeared in his field of vision.

Ethan felt his heart plummet.

‘What kind of bullshit is this?’

He gritted his teeth and dismissed the window.

He no longer had a choice.

He had to become the class representative, no matter what.

“The test is simple.”

Walter snapped his fingers.

“Find the most valuable item in this room and bring it to me. The test begins the moment I walk out that door.”

As soon as he finished speaking, the waiting room erupted into commotion.

The first to react was a hulking man named Rex.

“Out of my way! Move!”

Without hesitation, he charged toward one side of the room.

His target was an old picture frame with a gold-colored border hanging on the wall.

It was old, but the gold trim alone was probably worth a decent amount.

However, just as Rex reached out to grab it—

WHAM!

Ethan’s kick struck Rex squarely in the jaw.

“Gah!”

The giant groaned and crashed to the floor.

“W-What the hell?!”

Everyone gasped in shock.

Ethan slowly straightened up and surveyed the waiting room.

His expression was icy.

“I’m the representative. Anyone who has a problem with that can step forward.”

His cold voice swept through the room.

Tension tightened like a drawn wire, and no one dared move carelessly.

The selection test for class representative was now officially underway.

At least, that was what everyone thought.

Until Walter, who had already stepped outside, opened the door again and added one last remark.

“Oh, and by the way, anyone who assaults another trainee using physical force will be expelled.”

“…”

Everyone’s eyes naturally turned toward Ethan.

Drip. Drip.

Ethan felt as though cold sweat was pouring down his back as he struggled to process what had just happened.

While frantically trying to think of an excuse, he noticed Walter giving him a sidelong glare and spoke up.

“…That was before you announced the rule, so it doesn’t count, right?”