Old Walker's Heart

"I am."

Old Walker turned to look, only to see a young man so handsome he didn't look like a man at all sitting before him. He had never seen this person before, though he had a vague impression of the blonde girl beside him...

"Who are you?"

"I am Rhode Ailante, leader of the Starlight Mercenary Group."

"Starlight?"

Old Walker frowned, pondering for a moment, before nodding in sudden realization as if he had remembered something.

"Oh... you're the one who took over Moon Bow..."

At this, Old Walker raised his glass and gestured toward the blonde girl beside him.

"I remember now, you're that Spirit Master girl. Oh, I hope you aren't too heartbroken. Mercenaries are all like this—busy, coming and going with the wind and rain; no one knows when they might lose their lives..."

"Mr. Walker, we came here to find you because we need your help with something."

"Oh?"

Though slightly annoyed by Rhode interrupting him, Old Walker still forced his eyes open and turned toward the young man.

"What is it?"

"I want you to join my mercenary group."

Rhode spoke without a shred of hesitation, direct and to the point. But after a moment of shock, Old Walker suddenly burst into loud laughter.

"...Pfft, hahahahaha."

He acted as if he had heard a joke, pounding the table incessantly until the wine in his cup spilled over. Lize watched the old man's sudden outburst with surprise and confusion, but Rhode remained remarkably calm; he even had the leisure to wave at the bartender to signal for two glasses of fruit wine.

Not until the bartender left to fulfill the order did the old man finally calm down. He wheezed like a broken bellows for a few breaths before leaning back against his chair.

"Did I hear you right, kid? You want me to join your mercenary group?"

"Is there a problem?"

Rhode raised an eyebrow.

"Of course."

Only then did the old man's face darken. He straightened up and looked at the young man before him with a provocative gaze.

"Do you think I'm some kind of senile old fool? Let me ask you a question: how many people are in your mercenary group right now?"

"Two."

Rhode's answer was swift, without a hint of hesitation.

"That's exactly the problem!"

The old man spread his hands.

"Two people? A mercenary group? What are you going to use to take on missions? To complete them? There isn't much time left until the end of spring, and yet your Starlight's points are still at zero, not to mention you already failed once before. No one is going to come knocking to offer you a contract, and as for the missions currently posted at the Mercenary Association... frankly, kid, you don't have the capability to complete them at all."

At this, the old man waved his hands.

"Don't think that just because I'm old, I'm too senile to know anything. Kid, I've been here for decades. I know exactly what happens here every single day. So, I'm sorry, but I won't be boarding your sinking ship."

Old Walker's words were blunt, making the girl beside him unable to sit still. She looked anxious, wanting to say something, but nothing came out. Rhode, on the other hand, remained as indifferent as ever. He even had time to pick up his glass, savor the light, sweet fruit wine, and then speak.

"Mr. Walker, what are you afraid of?"

"...What do you mean?"

"I just want to know what exactly you have to be afraid of."

Rhode's tone was as flat as always, but his voice carried a hint of blatant mockery.

"True, I admit our situation is dire. We might even be forcibly disbanded during the year-end recess, but..."

Rhode held up a finger.

"Even if we are disbanded, that's a year away, isn't it? And even if we fail, so what? Either we die, or we get disbanded and have to live like ordinary mercenaries. What does that have to do with you? Look at yourself now—even if we are disbanded, you'll just return here and continue your current life, won't you? Or is it that you fear death?"

"Don't think you can provoke me with such cheap tricks, kid."

The old man's expression grew increasingly gloomy.

"I've seen all kinds of people over the years. I don't fear death, but I don't like being deceived. You have no future, and naturally, I won't choose a path that leads nowhere."

"A very good excuse."

Rhode clapped his hands as if in praise, though his expression remained unchanged.

"You used the same excuse for yourself when you abandoned Light Wind back then, didn't you?"

"BANG!!!"

Upon hearing Rhode's words, the old man's face shifted. He slammed his glass onto the table with such force that Lize jumped in fright.

"It was them who abandoned me! You little brat, you don't know anything at all, so stop spouting nonsense! Get out of here!"

"Everyone knows how to play the victim."

Yet, facing the enraged old man, Rhode did not waver in the slightest.

"But what right do you have to complain? To feel aggrieved? Back then, they gave you the opportunity and the time, and what did you do? Look at yourself now, you look just like a panicked jackal after being wounded. Cowering in your little den, not daring to move an inch. You're afraid, you've lost your confidence, and that's why you don't dare to face it. Isn't that right?"

"Swish!"

A cold dagger pressed tightly against Rhode's throat in an instant.

"Shut your mouth, kid."

The old man's face was grim, looking just like a ferocious wolf.

"You aren't qualified to say such things to me."

"That's a line I should be saying to you."

Rhode didn't take the old man's threat to heart at all. In fact, he knew this old man's background very well—in the game, he was a rare, high-value NPC in Deepstone City during the early stages with excellent stats, but that didn't necessarily mean his intelligence was high. In his personal quest, "Rediscovering Past Glory," this old man's actions were considered by many to be the epitome of idiocy. In that quest, the mercenary group he once belonged to was attacked by magical beasts, and upon receiving the news, the old man decided to go to their rescue, with the player naturally tagging along to help. However, what annoyed many players was that despite it being only a few dozen minutes of travel, the old man acted as indecisive as a bride on her wedding day, constantly stopping by the side of the road to fret over whether he should really go back, or if they would even want to see him. A man in his fifties or sixties acting as fussy as a woman made players want to strangle him to death.

The price of his hesitation was that by the time he arrived, all his former companions had become snacks in the bellies of the magical beasts. Only then did the old man finally reflect on his mistakes, experience a burst of inner strength, and perish together with those beasts, which could be called a heroic drama of a prodigal son returning.

Unfortunately, this play was not at all welcomed by the players. Those who had been delayed for three or four hours on the road due to the old man's indecision and ultimately surrounded by a horde of magical beasts could not suppress their anger. With absolutely no respect for the elderly, their only evaluation of the old man consisted of two words and a middle finger held high.

Rhode was one of them.

It was precisely because of this quest that he knew exactly what had happened to Old Walker. His companions had given him enough patience and time, but the old man had lost his confidence due to that deep trauma, shrinking into his shell like a turtle and completely rejecting his companions' good intentions. He had never acknowledged his own mistakes, instead blaming everything on others. Although he finally repented in the end, such things might be fine in a novel to enhance the artistic quality, but in reality, no one wanted such things to happen—what the hell was the use of your repentance if you ended up dead anyway? The people you wanted to save died, you died, and you wasted so much of our time. What was gained in the end?

Now, Rhode saying these things was partly to provoke him; the old man's personality was truly a bit sluggish, and if you didn't push him to the edge, he wouldn't budge at all. On the other hand, he also had a bit of a personal vendetta; this quest had made Rhode miserable enough back then, and since cursing in the game had no effect, venting a little now that he was seeing the real person felt good.

"At least I dare to face it, instead of hiding in a corner drinking away my sorrows like a coward."

Having said this, Rhode stood up and tossed a few silver coins onto the table.

"I'll give you one day to think it over. If you've made up your mind, you can come find me at the Sairiel Haunted House. If I don't see your shadow by tomorrow, then I never want to see you again."

After saying this, Rhode turned and left. Lize, who had been stunned and at a loss by the scene before her, hurriedly stood up and followed Rhode out.

After the two left, Old Walker plopped back down into his chair. He gritted his teeth, his hands trembling uncontrollably with rage, but a moment later, he let out a long sigh, buried his head deep between his arms, and said nothing more.