Roland sat in his usual corner of the tavern, his arms crossed, and his cheeks puffed out like a sulky kid. A half-drained mug of ale sat in front of him, untouched.
He'd been staring at the bubbles for what felt like hours, muttering every so often under his breath.
"…Nope. Not doing it. Ossan's done with deadlines. Done with stress. Done with babysitting nobles who think they're the main characters."
Mira, who was wiping down the counter, clicked her tongue so sharply it almost made Roland flinch.
"You've been pouting since sunrise. If you're not drinking, get out. My tavern doesn't serve free air."
Roland groaned, tipping his chair back until it creaked dangerously.
"Mira, you don't get it. If I say yes to this tutoring nonsense, it's crunch time all over again. Do you know what crunch is? Weeks of no sleep, no meals, just bug after bug after bug…"
He jabbed at his chest.
"And I survived that hell once already. Ossan deserves naps now."
Mira slammed her rag on the counter.
"What you deserve is a kick in the ass. Lazy men die lazy deaths. At least this way, someone actually needs you."
Before Roland could answer, the tavern door creaked open. The Village Chief shuffled in, cane tapping against the floorboards.
His wrinkled face wore that "you can't dodge me" smile Roland hated.
"Roland," the old man greeted. "Still pretending you're useless?"
Roland groaned louder.
"Why is everyone against ossan peace today?"
The Chief chuckled.
"Because this is an honor for our village. Lord Reinhardt himself asking you to tutor his daughter? That is no small matter. It raises our name."
"I don't care about honor," Roland muttered. "Honor doesn't buy ale. Honor doesn't buy naps either."
Mira folded her arms.
"But ale does come from me, and I'm saying: accept."
"Traitor!" Roland pointed at her dramatically.
Before the argument could spiral, the tavern door opened again — this time with a lot more authority. Reinhardt himself stepped in, flanked by two knights. His cloak swept behind him as though he was entering court instead of a shabby tavern.
"Roland," Reinhardt's voice boomed. "You will tutor Elena."
Roland nearly choked on his own spit.
"What kind of noble just barges in and declares quests like they're side missions?!"
The noble lord ignored the complaint.
"If you truly wish to refuse, then I will compromise: one week. A trial. You instruct Elena for the duration of her holiday. After that, if you wish to end it, I will not stop you."
Roland opened his mouth to argue, then froze.
One week.
Not forever.
Just seven days.
He rubbed his stubbly chin, suspicious.
"One week? No hidden clauses? No binding contracts? No DLC?"
Reinhardt frowned.
"D… what?"
"Nevermind. Fine. But I have conditions."
Reinhardt raised a brow.
"Speak."
"Free naps. And free ale. Every day."
There was a beat of silence before Reinhardt chuckled, assuming it was a joke.
"Hah! You are amusing. Very well."
Roland sighed.
"…he really thinks I'm kidding."
Roland didn't even get to finish his ale. That was the first crime.
The second crime was that somehow, before he knew it, he was already seated in a carriage cushioned with velvet seats, bouncing along the dirt road out of the village. His shabby boots looked comically out of place against the polished interior.
Roland pressed his forehead against the window, grumbling.
"Can't believe this. Kidnapped by luxury. I just wanted to fish today…"
Across from him sat Elena, her back straight and her hands folded on her lap like the perfect noble daughter.
She looked at him once — just once — with those sharp eyes and a twist of her lips.
"I don't understand why Father picked you," she muttered.
Roland sighed.
"Neither do I, girl. Trust me, this is not my dream job."
"That's obvious," Elena snapped, heat rising to her cheeks.
"You don't even look like a mage. You look like a—" she searched for the word—"a drunk fisherman who got lost."
Roland pointed lazily at her.
"Bingo. At least one noble who tells the truth."
"Then why are you here?"
"Because your father bribed me with naps and ale. And I can't resist free naps."
"…that's a terrible reason."
"Best reason," Roland corrected.
Silence lingered for a while, filled only by the creak of wheels.
Elena fidgeted, then finally pulled a small crystal from her satchel. Mana flickered weakly within.
"I'm not going to waste time," she said. "If you really know something, show me. Fix this."
Roland took the crystal, turning it in his hand. The flow of mana jittered like static. He made a face.
"Oof. This is bad. Buggy prototype if I've ever seen one."
Elena frowned. "Prototype?"
"Yeah. Unfinished, unstable, like when you throw spaghetti code at a system and pray it doesn't crash."
Her eyes narrowed.
"You're making up words."
"Nope." Roland tapped the crystal, adjusting his fingers like he was rearranging invisible lines of text. "See this flow? It's leaking. Like a bucket with holes. You're pouring water in, but half of it spills before reaching the bottom. Bad design."
"That's not—!"
Elena started, but then shut her mouth when the crystal's mana steadied under his touch.
Roland leaned back, tossing it back to her casually.
"There. Hotfix patch applied. Try again."
She hesitated, then channeled. A spark of flame appeared, cleaner than before, holding its shape for more than a second.
Her eyes widened despite herself.
"…how did you…"
Roland yawned.
"Debugging. You'll get it someday."
Elena bit her lip, clearly annoyed but secretly intrigued.
"You're infuriating."
"Yeah. Ossan's charm."
Elena stared at the little flame hovering over her palm. It wasn't perfect — it still flickered and wobbled — but compared to her usual mess of sparks and smoke, this was practically a miracle.
She quickly pinched it out before Roland could smirk any harder.
"Don't get the wrong idea," she muttered. "That was just… luck."
Roland shrugged.
"Yup. Pure RNG. Ossan cheats with dice rolls sometimes."
"Ar-en-gee…?"
"Means you rolled a critical success by accident."
Elena scowled.
"You keep saying nonsense."
Roland leaned back into the plush carriage seat, folding his arms behind his head.
"Better nonsense that works than 'proper theory' that doesn't."
She hated that she didn't have a comeback.
Lord Reinhardt, who had been sitting silently at the far end of the carriage, finally chuckled. His voice carried the weight of a man used to commanding rooms.
"Elena," he said, "you should listen, even if his words sound strange. Sometimes the oddest tools forge the sharpest blades."
"Father…" Elena's cheeks colored slightly, but she folded her arms in stubborn silence.
Roland glanced lazily at Reinhardt.
"So. Care to explain why I'm suddenly stuck in this escort mission? Thought nobles had better things to do than drag ossans out of taverns."
Reinhardt's lips quirked into a half-smile.
"Elena is enrolled at the Royal Academy of Magic. But during the last term, she… struggled."
"'Struggled,' huh." Roland eyed Elena. "Translation: bottom of the scoreboard."
Her face turned red.
"I—I wasn't last!"
Roland held up a hand.
"Relax, kid. Everyone bottoms out at some point. Me, I once shipped a patch that broke the entire lightning system. Game crashed every time someone sneezed. That was a real low point."
"…What?" Elena blinked.
"Don't worry about it," Roland waved. "Point is, you're buggy. But bugs can be fixed."
Elena turned away with a "hmph," though her ears stayed red.
Reinhardt ignored their bickering.
"The Academy is on recess for the summer. During this time, I want you" — he gestured to Roland — "to tutor her. Not in noble manners, not in etiquette, but in the strange way you stabilized her magic."
Roland grimaced.
"So basically, you want me to crunch again. Patch bugs under deadline."
"If you must call it that."
Roland slumped further into the seat, groaning.
"One week. Just one week. After that, I'm retire again."
Reinhardt gave a slow nod.
"Agreed. One week trial."
Elena crossed her arms.
"…Fine. But don't think I'll call you 'teacher.'"
Roland smirked.
"Good. 'Teacher' makes me itchy. Call me Ossan. Or Debugger Supreme. Either works."
"Absolutely not."
The carriage rattled on, carrying them farther and farther from the village.
Roland slouched in the seat, staring out the window at the passing trees, his face a mask of pure suffering.
"This is it," he muttered. "They've dragged me back into crunch. History repeats. I'm doomed."
Elena glanced sideways at him, annoyed.
"You make it sound like teaching me is torture."
"It is," Roland said flatly. "I had my dream life. Fishing. Naps. Cheap ale. And now? Babysitting duty instead."
She bristled.
"I'm not a baby!"
Roland waved a hand lazily.
"All apprentices are babies. That's just the rule."
Her cheeks puffed in indignation, but she didn't snap back this time. The little flame she had cast earlier still lingered in her thoughts, warming the corner of her stubborn pride.
***
Back in the village, life rolled on without him.
The sun dipped low over the rooftops as two familiar figures came running down from the mountain path, Tommy and Lila, dusty from climbing and chattering excitedly. Each carried a bundle of wild herbs and a bird's feather like trophies from their "training."
"Roland-ossan! We're back!" Tommy shouted as they burst into the square.
But the tavern corner where Roland usually sat snoring was empty. The fishing spot by the stream was quiet. Even the shack by the well showed no sign of him.
"Eh? Where'd he go?" Lila asked, blinking.
Mira popped her head out of the tavern door, arms folded.
"Gone. Lord Reinhardt took him."
The kids gasped in unison.
"Took him?!"
Tommy nearly dropped his herbs.
"To the capital?"
Lila's eyes lit up, equal parts worry and excitement.
"Apparently," Mira sighed, shaking her head. "Something about tutoring. Poor man didn't even finish his ale."
The kids exchanged a look — one of those looks that meant "we just decided something reckless without saying it."
"…We're going after him," Tommy declared.
Lila nodded firmly. "If Reinhardt's daughter gets to learn, then we will too! Ossan promised to teach us survival magic!"
Mira paled. "Don't you dare—!"
***
Meanwhile, in the carriage rattling toward the horizon, Roland sneezed. He rubbed his nose and muttered, "Huh. Must be a bug report piling up somewhere…"
And with that, the reluctant tutor's new chapter had officially begun.