After the master departed for the city, Wyn and I did not immediately cease our efforts. We pushed through our lingering fatigue, continuing our combat practice in the yard until the sun reached its zenith. Once noon arrived, we took a well-earned rest for about half an hour, sitting together in the shade of the wooden eaves. During this time, Wyn offered me invaluable advice on the practicalities of defense. She demonstrated how to properly brace my shoulder against the shield to absorb a heavy impact and explained the way she adjusted her footwork when swinging her sword to maintain balance. Her experience from the village hunts was evident, and I absorbed every word with the hope of becoming less of a burden.

  With our rest concluded, we turned our attention to the house. Cleaning an entire building was a task we had become quite accustomed to during our months of intensive training at the slave compound; our mentors had ensured that no speck of dust escaped our notice. However, cleaning the master’s home was surprisingly straightforward. The space was manageable, and it was immediately apparent that he had taken excellent care of the residence himself. He had performed at least a thorough, rough cleaning on a regular basis, meaning we were able to finish the bulk of the house within a few hours.

  We deliberately saved the master’s room for last. There was a lingering reluctance to enter his private sanctuary casually—a habit of respect and boundary-keeping that was difficult to break. Although we had stepped inside briefly yesterday to offer our services, we hadn't been in a state to observe the interior properly. Entering today felt like seeing it for the first time.

  The room was organized with a functional, minimalist aesthetic. In the center, positioned opposite the door, sat a large, sturdy bed—big enough for at least three people to sleep together comfortably. A wide, dark-wood wardrobe stood against the right wall, and to the left, there was a simple table and chair. This was where he had been sitting yesterday when we entered. The book he had been reading lay on the table now, closed and silent. We cleaned the room with extreme caution, moving through the space with light footsteps. We were terrified of breaking something, so we made sure to return every object we moved to its exact original location. Fortunately, the room was uncluttered, and there was nothing particularly fragile that would be easily harmed by a careful hand.

  Once the house was spotless and we had taken a moment to catch our breath, it was time for the next task: the water. We needed to fill the tank on the upper floor, which meant a trip to the nearby well. We prepared ourselves by placing a long, round plank across our shoulders, hooking a bucket to each side so we could carry two at a time. The walk to the well was easy enough with empty buckets, but the return journey was a different story.

  Carrying two filled buckets at once was physically demanding. Wyn, possessing the Beast Warrior job, was naturally stronger and more resilient than I was, so she didn't seem as taxed by the weight. I, however, struggled significantly more. To compensate and ensure I didn't spill the precious cargo, I filled my buckets slightly less than hers—a compromise that allowed me to keep moving without stumbling. We made the trip to the well three times, successfully hauling twelve buckets of water back to the house to fill the tank.

  By the time we finished with the water, we were exhausted and needed to sit for a while to regain our strength. After a short rest, we set out into the city once more to buy the groceries for dinner. The evening was already approaching as we left, the sky beginning to lose its daytime brightness. Dinner time was creeping closer, but we knew the city markets well enough now to move quickly.

  The ten silver coins the master had given us felt like an immense sum. For a single dinner, one silver coin was more than enough to buy high-quality ingredients. Even if we added enough for the next morning’s breakfast, the total barely scratched over a single silver. We made our selections carefully, ensuring the produce was fresh and the meat was of good quality.

  As we returned home, the sun was sinking below the horizon, turning the sky into a canvas of deep, fiery reds. Stepping inside, we made our way toward the kitchen, only to realize the master had already returned. We greeted him respectfully and informed him that we had just arrived from shopping. He gave us a simple nod of approval, and we set to work.

  With Wyn assisting me, I prepared a meal of rich rice soup followed by fried chicken thighs and potatoes. The savory aroma filled the kitchen and drifted into the living room, and when we finally invited the master to the table, he looked genuinely pleased. He sat in his chair, a small smile playing on his lips as he took in the scent. It was a delicious meal, even by my own standards. Wyn seemed to enjoy it immensely, and the master praised my efforts, stating the flavors were very much to his liking. He even went so far as to request that I cook both the rice soup and the chicken thighs again in the near future.

  After the meal was finished, the master didn't immediately retire. He seemed in a talkative mood, interested in how we had spent our first full day in the house.

  “How is the practice going?” he asked, his brown eyes settling on me. “I hope you haven’t become disheartened, Woya.”

  “It is going well, master,” I replied, my voice sincere. “Wyn is an excellent teacher. It is difficult for me right now, but I promise to continue the practice no matter how hard it gets.” I wanted to ensure he knew I was dedicated to the task he had set.

  “Good,” the master said, leaning back. “And you did a fine job cleaning the house. I tried to keep it tidy, but it was never this spotless. It seems there’s truth to the saying that women are better at housework than men.” He smiled, looking quite content with the state of his home.

  Wyn, however, kept her tone professional. “Thank you, master, but I believe you are exaggerating. We performed only a basic cleaning, and as you said, the house was already well-maintained.”

  “Come on, don't be so modest,” he laughed. “You did a great job. Hahaha. Now, am I correct to assume you’ve also handled the water tank?”

  “Of course, master,” Wyn answered. “Though we couldn't fill it completely because the light was fading. We managed to carry up twelve buckets of water. If you allow us, we will finish the task tomorrow.”

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  I felt a prickle of shame, knowing I had carried less than Wyn and contributed less to the task, so I kept my head bowed, unable to find my voice.

  “No, that’s more than enough,” the master said, his smile remaining warm. “Good job. I am very pleased with what you’ve accomplished today, especially considering it’s only been twenty-four hours. Please, keep up this level of effort.”

  “Thank you, master,” we replied, bowing in unison. I felt a surge of happiness at his words; every piece of praise felt like a stone added to the foundation of our safety in this house.

  “I was also quite busy today, you know,” he added, almost as if he wanted us to be part of his world. “After I left you this morning, I visited various merchants I’ve been working with. Orders have been slow for a while, but today, several profitable requests came in. I’m going to be quite busy for the next few days. You should both continue your practice even when I’m not here to oversee it.”

  We had seen him interact with artisans and shopkeepers, but I hadn't realized he considered himself a merchant.

  “Master... what exactly is it that you do?” Wyn asked. Her voice was calm, but I could tell she was gauging the situation. “What do these people request from you? If you don't mind telling us, of course.”

  “It varies,” the master explained. “As you saw at Yorik’s, I sell the loot I collect from my battles. Sometimes I act as a middleman between different merchants, taking a commission for connecting a buyer and a seller. But there are two primary things I do regularly.”

  He leaned forward, his expression becoming more instructional. “The first is the buying and selling of goods. I purchase products from their place of manufacture at a low cost and then transport them to areas where those items are scarce and in high demand, allowing me to sell them at a premium. This is possible because I have the ability to travel long distances with an ease that others simply cannot match.”

  He spoke of this remarkable ability as if it were a mundane fact of life. “Of course,” he added with a sharp, knowing smile, “you must not speak of my methods to anyone else. It doesn't matter who they are. Understood?”

  We nodded immediately, our silence a promise of secrecy.

  “Good. The second thing—and the more important one—is delving into dungeons. While the trade routes provide a stable and significant income, the dungeons are where the real value lies. Not just in terms of money, though the deeper you go, the more coins the monsters drop, and the mini-bosses occasionally yield very valuable items. No, the main point of the dungeons is to get stronger.”

  His eyes seemed to shine as he spoke of the depths, a glint of ambition I hadn't seen before. “In a dungeon, there is no shortage of opponents. You walk forward, and there will be a monster waiting for you. By defeating them, you grow. Earning gold is just a pleasant bonus compared to the increase in strength.”

  It was a strange thing to hear. To us, money was the key to freedom and survival, yet he spoke of it as an afterthought.

  “It seems most people understand that defeating enemies makes them stronger or helps them gain advanced jobs,” the master lamented, “but their knowledge is so superficial. There are specific, undeniable rules to becoming stronger and gaining new roles.”

  “Then, master,” Wyn asked, her focus narrowing, “are there set rules about how one acquires a job? Or a specific amount of strength gained from a kill?”

  “First, it’s not just about monsters,” the master corrected. “It’s about all living things—including humans. And yes, there are rules. For example, Wyn, how do you think you acquired the Beast Warrior job?”

  “In our village,” Wyn replied, “hunters would visit the guild to check if they were eligible for a small fee. The general belief was that the more time you spent on the hunt, the higher your chances were.”

  “Exactly,” the master said. “The reason is experience. You have to accumulate a set amount of experience while holding a base job, the Villager. As you kill enemies or perform specific actions that align with the nature of a job, you build that experience. Once you fulfill the conditions, you gain access to derived jobs. If you are a Beast Warrior, you could become a Swordsman or Spearman by focusing on those weapons. Or you could become a Dungeon Raider simply by entering a dungeon.”

  The information was staggering. We had always heard people talk about talent, or being blessed by the gods, or simply working harder than everyone else. But the master was describing a logical, mechanical system. If you did the work, you got the result.

  “M-master... then what are the actions that align with the Villager job?” I asked, my voice trembling with excitement. If I could understand the rules, maybe I could finally become something more than a burden.

  “The Villager job is an exception,” the master said, and my heart sank. “Every action you take—cleaning, cooking, walking—contributes experience to it. But the amount is so minuscule that it’s essentially insignificant for long-term growth.”

  I felt a wave of disappointment, but the master continued before I could dwell on it. “Tell me, Wyn, did you not feel a physical change when you shifted from Villager to Beast Warrior?”

  “I did,” she said thoughtfully. “I felt stronger and faster. But the most noticeable change was in my senses; my hearing and eyesight became much sharper.”

  “That is the system at work,” the master confirmed. “Your job assists you by providing direct boosts to your Strength, Agility, and Senses. The amount depends on the rarity and the tier of the job. As you gain experience, those boosts grow more powerful, allowing you to face even more dangerous foes. That’s how delvers survive the higher floors.”

  This was a heavy, transformative lesson. We realized that staying with him wouldn't just mean a safe place to sleep; it meant access to knowledge that could change who we were.

  “So you are saying, master, that personal strength is more important than wealth?” Wyn asked, her voice calm and demanding an answer.

  “There are many things of value in this world,” the master replied, his tone final. “Wealth, nobility, standing, military might—all of them have their uses depending on the situation. But the most trustworthy asset you will ever possess is your own strength. It is the only thing in this world that will never betray you.”

  He stood up, the conversation clearly at an end. We greeted him respectfully as he headed to his room for the night. Left alone, we began the final cleaning of the dishes. We worked in a profound silence, the weight of his words hanging in the air between us.

  After the kitchen was pristine, we changed into our nightclothes and lay together in bed. We whispered for a while about the things he had told us, trying to reconcile his mechanical view of the world with the life we had known. Eventually, we decided to simply trust him. We fell into a deep sleep, exhausted by the physical and mental demands of our first full day in our new home.

  [Edited]