Chapter 44: Little Pink Chicken’s Thousand Layers of Tricks.

The voice belonged to none other than Ifrora, clearly displeased at being interrupted.

The members of the Righteous Fist team were indignant at such audacity, but when they saw who spoke, their protests died in their throats.

Who in the Kangkela Empire didn’t recognize the Phoenix family’s young miss? Even if they didn’t, the crest on her dress was no mere decoration.

“Miss Ifrora, we didn’t know you were here. If we’ve offended you, please forgive us,” said a human swordsman from the Righteous Fist, bowing with impeccable noble etiquette. His refined smile was like a winter sun, disarming and warm.

But his shrewd eyes hid something—a flicker of desire, gone in an instant, unnoticed.

“Hmph, forgive? If I recall, you’re the second son of the Blake family, right? Mixing with such uncouth company?” Ifrora retorted.

Before the swordsman could respond, the hotheaded elf from earlier couldn’t hold back. “What’s that supposed to mean? Think we’re scared just because you’re an earl’s daughter? You owe us an apology for your insult!”

The swordsman cursed the elf’s stupidity under his breath, quickly resuming his false smile.

The other Righteous Fist members looked like they’d swallowed something foul. You’re not scared of the earl’s daughter, but they were! They wanted to strangle the elf…

And indeed, elves were often arrogant. Human nobles had no sway over them, so he acted brazenly.

But he seemed to forget this was the Kangkela Empire, Phoenix Earl’s territory—not the Elven Forest where he could run wild. Used to lording over others in his clan, bolstered by racial pride, he saw humans as inferior and half-elves as filthy trash.

“Apologize? Shouldn’t you apologize to Mr. Flo first?” Ifrora’s voice cut through, her original intent clear.

Flo, watching from the sidelines, hadn’t expected to be mentioned. A warmth stirred in his chest, her voice rippling through his heart like spring water.

“Apologize to a lowly half-elf? What a joke! He’s not worthy!” the elf spat.

Instantly, a chill ran through him, swiftly replaced by a burning sensation. He collapsed to one knee, screaming, “Aaaah!”

No need to guess—Ifrora had struck, igniting her divine phoenix flame within him. A lesser elf with no notable bloodline, he had no chance against her and could only endure the sudden torment.

Golden flames danced at Ifrora’s fingertips, forming a phoenix silhouette above the elf’s head. The surrounding adventurers gasped. The Blake family’s second son stepped forward, his sleeve’s silver-threaded crest flickering in the firelight.

“Miss Ifrora, enough punishment,” he said with noble grace, though his eyes betrayed hidden emotions.

Flo suddenly grabbed Ifrora’s scalding wrist. His instincts, honed in his past life’s underground fighting pits, warned him the fire would kill if it continued. Her skin burned under his touch, more unsettling than the orphanage’s blazing night.

“Thanks for sticking up for me, but that’s enough. He’ll die if this goes on…” Flo pulled Ifrora behind him, shielding her from the Blake family’s gaze. His half-elf blood made his pupils glow dark red under stress, sparking against the second son’s sinister stare.

“Please forgive his rudeness. I apologize on his behalf to you and Mr. Flo,” the swordsman said.

As team leader, he couldn’t let a member die—not out of care, but because the elf’s antics could ruin his reputation.

“Apologize to Mr. Flo and Miss Ifrora,” he barked at the crumpled elf.

“S-Sorry!” The elf, still reeling from near-death, didn’t dare disobey.

“You’re expelled,” the swordsman added. The elf’s usefulness was over; further ties would harm the team.

“No, you can’t do this!” the elf protested, but his cries changed nothing—he was cast aside.

After completing their mission, the Righteous Fist team took their reward and left. But the swordsman lingered, taking a seat and ordering drinks, flashing Ifrora what he thought was a charming smile.

Flo couldn’t stand it, his lips twitching.

“Time to handle my mission,” Flo said to the receptionist.

The woman slammed a parchment bag on the counter. “After deducting special service fees, five gold coins remain.” She adjusted her glasses, her gaze lingering on Flo and Ifrora’s clasped hands. “Per the Adventurer Guild’s latest Supervisor Rights Amendment…”

“Wait!” Flo’s head spun with question marks. “When was this revised?”

“This morning,” she replied, standing and revealing a guild crest under her dress. “Article Three states: Supervisors may impose labor compensation on adventurers causing significant mission losses.” She tapped the ledger. “Given your destruction of a Phoenix family magic item last night, we suggest…”

“Wait!” Ifrora cut in, her fingertip tracing cryptic runes in Flo’s palm. “I request the labor compensation be changed to…” She leaned close, whispering so only they could hear, “a personal servant contract.”

Flo’s ears turned beet red, his past-life iron will nearly crumbling. He glanced at the Blake second son, whose fist clenched under the table, and felt a secret thrill.

“Enough, Pink Chick…”

“I helped you again, didn’t I, Mr. Goblin?”

“Stop with the goblin nickname, you damn Pink Chick!”

“And what’s this personal servant contract?” Flo hissed, teeth grinding. “Think I’m some bound familiar?”

Ifrora tiptoed closer, lips near his nose. “Aren’t you, Pointy-Ears?”

Noticing his annoyance at the new nickname, she reverted to “Pointy-Ears.”

Her fingertip runes sparked golden, and amidst the adventurers’ gasps, Flo felt his ankle tighten—a chain with phoenix patterns grew from the ground, linking their ankles. The Blake second son shot up, his sword humming in its sheath.

“This is Article 378 of the Supervisor Rights Amendment,” Ifrora said, waving a gilded codex. The chain dissolved into golden dust at her feet.

“When an adventurer damages a supervisor’s family property, intimate supervision may be imposed.”

Flo stared into her sly eyes, recalling how his plant magic had shattered a phoenix-marked array at the orphanage.

The receptionist coughed violently, her ledger flipping to the newly revised page, gilded words gleaming in the candlelight.

“Objection!” Flo slammed the table, spilling an ink bottle, black liquid snaking across the floor.

“This is personal revenge!”

“Objection overruled.”

Ifrora hooked his arm, and Flo felt doomed—Pink Chick was getting way too bold!

“Per Article 380, adventurers may appeal but must pay…” Her lips nearly brushed his ear. “…the cost of dining with the supervisor.”

“By the way, if you behave, I’ll waive the special service fee~”

Flo was torn between anger and amusement, but seeing the Blake second son crush his glass, he impulsively gripped Ifrora’s hand. Her palm burned hotter than her phoenix flames, and he heard himself say, “Deal.”

Ifrora’s pupils shrank, shocked he’d agreed so easily…

The Blake second son’s icy gaze fixed on their clasped hands. He slammed his broken glass down, unable to hold back. “Miss Phoenix, let me take this half-elf’s place—”

“Shut up.”

Ifrora’s eyes blazed, silencing him, sweat beading on his forehead. Flo noticed the Blake crest on his sleeve melting, the air thick with the scent of charred meat.

“Supervisor’s dinner time,” Ifrora said, pulling Flo toward the spiral staircase, phoenix flames forming wings behind her. “Pointy-Ears, did you think the contract was just for binding?”

Flo stared at her silhouette, half-hidden in the blinding sunlight, as golden chain patterns spread up his ankle.

Wait, he didn’t even need to agree? The contract was one-sided from the start?

Pink Chick was just too devious!

As they vanished around the staircase, the Blake second son sneered at his melted crest, his fingers grazing a dagger hidden in his sleeve, its blade glinting with eerie purple light in the sun.