A brief silence settled between them.
Then, out of nowhere— laughter erupted.
Jonas clutched his stomach, patting his thighs as he struggled to breathe. "You—! You're really that primitive, Einar? I had no idea!"
Einar scowled, turning his head away in embarrassment. "Hey, I'm broke, okay? I don't have money to waste on all this fancy new stuff!"
Jonas took a deep breath, trying to suppress his laughter. But the sight of Einar's sulking expression only made it harder. "Alright, alright! I'm sorry! I won't make fun of you."
Einar huffed, still looking away. "You better."
Jonas shook his head, chuckling. "Alright, let's get serious. The Sporb—you just have to hold it and say the coordinates of the realm you want to travel to. That's it. Simple, right?"
Einar's eyes gleamed with excitement. "Oh? And what's the coordinate for this realm?"
Jonas answered without hesitation. "9E689."
Einar blinked, his enthusiasm quickly replaced with confusion. "What kind of black magic is that?"
Jonas bit his lip, trying to hold back another wave of laughter, but the utterly dumbfounded look on Einar's face made it impossible. He burst out laughing again.
"I-It's your coordinate, Einar! The 'E' stands for ten quadrillion—10,000,000,000,000,000. Pretty interesting, huh?"
Einar's eyes widened in sheer disbelief. He dramatically fell from his seat.
A moment later, he scrambled back up, still stammering. "J-Just how many realms are there?!"
Jonas rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "In Aetherion alone? Multiply that number by a hundred."
Einar gave a wry smile. "So… there are other places like Aetherion?"
Jonas's eyes widened in mock surprise. "Wait—you didn't know?" He paused, before sighing. "I guess you haven't attended an academy yet. You look young."
Einar raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean by that? Are you old or something?"
Jonas chuckled. "Yeah. I'm fifty years old."
Einar stared at him. "…What?"
Then he snapped. "Damn!!"
Jonas laughed heartily. "Your reactions are priceless, Einar."
Before Einar could retort, the clatter of footsteps drew their attention.
Laura approached, carrying a tray with two cups of tea and an assortment of biscuits. Behind her, Tauriel followed, quietly assisting in setting the table.
Einar gestured toward the tea. "Go on, Jonas. Drink up."
Jonas gave a small nod and took a sip, letting the warmth settle.
…
After a brief moment of quiet, Einar leaned forward. "So, about that distressed kingdom—do you have its coordinates?"
Jonas nodded. "Yeah, of course. The danger level is around mortal or newly awakened—nothing you can't handle."
Einar smirked. "You overestimate me, Jonas."
Jonas chuckled. "I doubt that. You've already knocked down sand serpents, sand dwellers, desert scorpions, and those pesky vultures. You're strong."
Einar laughed. "Well, if you put it like that… of course."
Jonas scratched the back of his neck. "Right, about the coordinates—it's 9E699. The kingdom is called Duskholm."
Einar nodded. "I'll head there immediately. Don't worry."
Jonas smiled. "Oh, I'm not worried—at least, not about that."
…
Sometime later, Jonas stretched and stood up. "I should get going." He glanced outside—the light had dimmed considerably. He had arrived in the morning, and now it was well... dusk.
Einar stood as well. "Yeah, I guess so. I took up a lot of your time."
Jonas waved his hand dismissively. "Nah, you took mine, I took yours. We're even. It was good meeting you, Einar."
Einar grinned. "Same here. Just because you're old doesn't mean I'll treat you any differently. You don't look fifty, so I'll treat you like my own."
Jonas smirked. "Whatever you say."
He took a step back, then added, "Oh, and—don't forget. You still owe 5,000 gold. I'll advertise your monster carcass business too, don't worry."
Einar chuckled. "I won't. I trust you. Until next time."
Without another word, Einar pulled Jonas into a quick, firm hug.
Jonas smiled, then pulled out another Sporb. He held it between his hands—
Whoosh!
In an instant, he disappeared.
…
Silence settled in the room once more.
The only ones remaining were Einar, Laura, and Tauriel.
Einar turned to them. "Clear the plates."
Laura raised an eyebrow. "That's it? You're not going to plan before rushing off?"
Einar shook his head. "No need."
Laura sighed, then after a pause her expression turned serious. "What were you trying to accomplish befriending Jonas?"
Einar smirked a little. "Accomplish? Yeah, I was trying to accomplish something. But when I spent some time with I changed my mind."
Laura quivered her brows. "Why? Some kind of define intervention."
Her words contained unhidden mockery. Einar looked at the ceiling above, as if lamenting.
Before he could say anything. Laura closed their distance and whispered. "You aren't Einar, are you?"
In response, Einar's hands firmly gripped her small waist and closed the distance between them.
This time Einar leaned and whispered in her ears. "Yeah.... I'm not Einar. At least not the previous one."
Immediately Laura's body tensed. She flailed like child showing tantrums. Alas, her struggles were futile. Einar's ironclad grip didn't let her go.
His voice soften, he leaned closer. "I'm not that bad Laura. I'm incompetent and useless, I pile up my work on you and others. But I'm doing what I can, I would continue to help the town too. Just trust me.... I'm not that bad."
His voice broke and stammered at end, showing the sincerity in his words. Laura in response just struggled.
He finally let her go free. "Take care of the Town, while I'm gone."
With that he took out the Sporb and held it in his hands. With a—
WHOOSH
The next instant he was gone. All that left was a beet-red Tauriel hiding her face.
And a conflicted Laura, clentching the hem of her dress. Her face a mix of disgust, distrust..... Guilt and hope.
She glanced at Tauriel, who was hiding her blushing way.
Laura pinched the bridge of her nose. "I swear, he never thinks things through."
Tauriel sighed, then muttered under her breath, "That's just how he is. He did the same thing with my grandpa."
Laura turned her head in confusion. "He hugged your grandpa?"
Tauriel waved her hands furiously in dismissal. "No! No! Let me properly explain...."