There was a young man twenty four years old , with blond hair and a series of scars on his right arm—scars that looked like lash marks. A faint, thin scar curved just beneath his left eye, and a light beard shadowed his jawline. His name was ( Tristan Danson )
He had arrived in the city alone this winter, accompanied only by his dog. He had lost someone dear to him and coming to this city was his way of trying to move on—to start anew
Tristan wasn't the type to make friends easily but he'd managed to earn the trust of a few during his autumn work at a farm. They were the same ones who introduced him to the city after he expressed his desire to relocate.
Work on the farm hadn't been profitable during the winter, so Tristan needed to find something else. One day, he went to the club where his companions often gathered. When he arrived, he greeted them warmly.
"Hey, new guy! How's life treating you?" one of them called out.
Tristan offered a crooked smile. "Some days good, some days bad but at least I'm still alive, living my silly little life in peace."
The group burst into laughter at his dry humor.
"Did you find a job, Tristan?" another asked. "Heard you quit the farm."
"Yeah," Tristan nodded. "Wasn't worth it this season. These days I carry crates, help with construction, deliver pizzas—whatever helps me earn enough to get by."
"That's not great, man. You need something stable. Rent's going up, you know."
"I know."
One of the group, a well-dressed man named ( Satomi ) who clearly came from money, leaned forward.
"I might have something for you," he said. "My cousin was going to take a position at the university as a student guide but he got a better offer and backed out. I could put your name in for it."
"Really?" Tristan's face lit up. "Thanks."
"But you'll owe me lunch," Satomi grinned.
"I figured you'd say that. Where do you want to eat?"
"That Mexican place near your house."
"Fine, it's on me."
They shook hands and after saying his goodbyes to the others, Tristan made his way home. He fed his dog, ( Badwin ) and went straight to bed.
The next morning, Tristan woke early. He ate a modest breakfast and decided to take Badwin out for a walk—the first in a while, thanks to the cold. The weather was clear for once and he intended to make the most of it.
After the walk, he left his dog at home, grabbed some money and headed to the restaurant where Satomi was already waiting.
As Tristan approached the table, Satomi smirked.
"Did you get lost, Tristan? I live farther than you and yet here I am, earlier."
"Blame Badwin," Tristan replied with a lazy grin. " I Took him for a walk and lost track of time."
"Oh, that adorable mutt? Alright, I'll let it slide—but don't make it a habit."
"Yes, sir, rich man."
They both laughed and sat down. Satomi pulled a folded paper from his coat and slid it across the table.
"Here's the job application form. Sign it and take it to the university's administration. They'll give you the uniform and explain what your duties are."
Tristan read over the form, then signed it with a grateful smile.
"Thanks. I don't know how to repay you."
"Don't be stupid," Satomi said, waving him off. "You saved me once, remember? Back at that hotel when we were all drunk and acting like idiots. I fell off the balcony and you jumped after me and managed to save me. You broke your leg in the process. If anyone owes anything, it's me."
"Oh, right... I always forget that. Still, thank you."
"Don't mention it."
After finishing their meal, Tristan left and headed to the university. It was a long walk and time was short.
"This is going to take forever," he muttered to himself. "And those admin guys always leave early. Guess I'll have to cheat a little."
As a heir of air stone, Tristan possessed the ability of instant teleportation. By focusing on a specific place and channeling his energy, he could transport himself—or someone else with him—there in the blink of an eye. It was a gift passed down through generations of air stone heirs. Though powerful, it was draining if used too frequently.
This same power had saved Satomi that night.
Despite his kindness, Tristan had his flaws. He could be reckless—often drinking too much, picking fights, gambling and occasionally using drugs. He wasn't addicted but he certainly flirted with danger.
He slipped into a quiet alley, checked to make sure no one was watching and vanished.
He reappeared near the university gates and made his way to the administration office. At the door, he asked one of the guards, "Excuse me, where can I submit this job form?"
"Office thirteen, second floor," the guard replied.
"Thanks."
He climbed the stairs and knocked on the door. A voice called, "Come in."
Tristan stepped inside. "Good afternoon, sir."
"Hello there. Can I help you?"
"Yes, here." Tristan handed over the signed form.
The man examined it and nodded. "Welcome, Mr. Danson. You're now an official student guide. Your job is to help students with information and guidance."
"Understood, sir."
The man retrieved a folded uniform from his desk and handed it over. "Wear this tomorrow morning and report back to this office. One of our senior guides will train you."
"Yes, sir."
"You may go."
Tristan left the building, teleported back home and was greeted by Badwin. He scratched the dog's head and handed him a sausage he'd picked up along the way.
Leaving the dog to eat, Tristan went to his room and tried on the uniform.
"Damn... I look ridiculous in this," he muttered. "But I guess I don't have a choice."
The next day, he suited up and teleported again, arriving at the university before anyone else—including the administrator from office thirteen.
The man who gived Tristan the uniform yesterday named ( Bille ) spotted him leaning against the wall, smoking a cigarette.
"Good morning, sir," Tristan said coolly.
"You're quite the eager one, Danson. You arrived before me."
"You told me to come early. I listen."
"Well then, come on in."
They entered the office and waited. Soon, another man joined them—( Bartosh ) , the senior guide.
"Morning, Bille," Bartosh greeted, shaking hands with Bille who said to him
"Morning, Bartosh. This is the new guy I told you about."
"A rookie, huh? Don't worry—I'll train him well."
"Good. Take him with you and get started."
Bartosh led Tristan out and handed him a set of books.
"Read these and summarize them—they're the student guide's manual."
"Understood, sir."
"Today, I'm taking some graduating students to thank and bid farewell to one of their former professors. Come along so you can see how this job is done."
"Yes, sir."