𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙎𝙩𝙧𝙤𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙨𝙩 ~ 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐚 𝐱 𝐌𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 [𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐂𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫]

𝖢𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖳𝗐𝗈 - 𝚃𝚑𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚜

Y/N

The gentle glow of the tavern's candlelight danced across the room, as sparse and empty as it was for this time of day. Even then, it showed no sign of struggle, both in appearance and as a sequestered business within the Royal Capital. The stools and tables held few occupants, where it seemed the tiniest speck of wood had been polished and well-maintained by the one who ran the establishment.

Sat at the counter, a man with cerulean hair swished the contents of his glass, the ice cubes within clinking together without rest before bringing the red-brown alcohol it held to his lips.

It stung slightly against his throat, but not enough to form a reaction. He simply put the half-drank glass down and sighed.

The bottles ahead of him stood elegantly on display from the shelf, where another man went about wiping down the countertop to his right. He sported more natural, light brown hair, slicked back and well-maintained like everything else as he wore a black suit and an auburn tie. Seemingly keeping to himself despite his only customer now gazing at the object beside his drink.

A grimoire.

"Tell me, Oswald... do you think having any magic attribute is a blessing these days?" He inquired.

Oswald paused wiping a wine glass. "Would be much better than being born with no attribute at all, wouldn't you say, Y/N?"

Y/N didn't respond for a few moments and instead blankly stared at the grimoire on the counter. Like his hair, it had a cerulean aura dancing along its ash-grey front and back cover, where the colour took on a lighter shade towards its edges. Adorning its sides, however, were faint, darker blotches of black and grey, akin to that of embers floating away from a roaring fire.

Or something or someone crumbing away into dust.

He held it in his hands and focused on its most remarkable feature; the four-leaf clover magically embedded to signify its utter importance.

"Most people across all the realms don't have much of a problem with their attributes, although I'm sure you of all people know that mana is a different story in the three regions..." Oswald sighed.

Oh, he knew. Y/N narrowed his eyes briefly at the grimoire before looking up to meet the man's face. "I just... don't exactly know what to do these days. As a Magic Knight, I mean." Y/N said and propped his face up with his left hand, tapping the countertop without reason. "Everything feels so... stagnant."

Oswald raised a brow. "Are you unhappy with it?"

"Not the job itself, more so what I'm doing within it." Y/N clarified, then took another sip of his beverage.

These chains have been rather itchy lately.

He shook his head before continuing. "I just feel like I'm behind things lately, that's all. Everyone else is doing decently well these days." He sighed.

"And how long has it been since you began limiting yourself?" Oswald inquired, rather bluntly given the way Y/N tightened his grip on his grimoire ever so slightly.

"About... three years now? Nearly four? You know I haven't been slacking in other areas." Y/N felt the need to mention.

"Y/N." The bartender leaned forward, and the grave expression he gave the man wasn't one he really wanted to see right now. "You of all people know that isn't healthy, and I'm not just speaking about that being a total risk on your missions." Oswald told him, emphasised to him, what felt contradictory to Y/N's mind.