After a month, Ludger’s plan was in full swing. Every morning and afternoon, he sat at the tavern or outside his home, his hands glowing with green light as adventurers lined up to be healed. Twisted ankles, cuts from blades, bruises from botched training—he fixed them all, one cast at a time. His mana pool emptied faster than ever before, but the coins poured in just as quickly.
Silver clinked into the box Elaine kept for him, and soon, even a few gold coins joined the pile. Word had spread far and wide: the boy healer who charged fairly and worked tirelessly. By the end of each day, Ludger collapsed into his bed, drained, his mana spent to the last drop—but his pouch grew heavier and heavier.
It didn’t take long for the numbers to speak for themselves. Ludger was making more money in a week than Arslan sometimes earned in two. The realization hit one evening as Arslan watched Elaine count the coins with wide eyes.
At first, Arslan froze. Then, slowly, a nervous laugh bubbled out of him. “Hahaha… would you look at that? My boy’s already making more than me… ahaha…”
His grin didn’t hide the cold sweat sliding down his temple. He rubbed the back of his neck, forcing out another laugh that cracked halfway through. “W-well, you know, money isn’t everything, right? Adventuring has other rewards! Like… glory! And… uh…”
Elaine raised an eyebrow, unimpressed.
Ludger just smirked quietly, watching his father squirm. Imagine being seven years old and already outpacing your old man. Guess pride doesn’t pay as well as healing spells.
Arslan finally slumped forward, head in his hands. “I can’t believe it… I’m being out-earned by my own kid. My pride…!”
Harold clapped him on the back hard enough to make him stumble. “Cheer up, boss. At least the money stays in the family. We will decrease your cuts at the end of the jobs.”
“No way!”
Arslan groaned, but deep down, a flicker of pride mixed with the sting. Ludger wasn’t just his son—he was already proving he could outdo him in ways Arslan had never imagined.
Late one evening, Ludger sat cross-legged in his room, his hands glowing faintly green as he practiced [Healing Touch] on the potted herbs by his window. Their leaves stretched higher and greener with every pulse of mana, proof that his control over druid skills was improving.
Beside him, a small wooden chest sat half-full of coins—silver stacked neatly, with a few glimmers of gold mixed in. He eyed the chest with a thoughtful frown.
All this money… it’s more than I ever thought I’d earn at this age. But just saving it isn’t enough. Coins in a box don’t grow, they just sit there.
He remembered watching tavern regulars talk about debts, loans, and the way merchants always seemed richer than adventurers. Merchants didn’t just hold money—they made it work. They bought goods, invested in caravans, and took risks that paid off far more than a coin hoarded away.
If I use what I’ve earned to build something—connections, supplies, even favors—I’ll have more than just coins. I’ll have leverage.
The idea gave him a quiet thrill. A healer’s hands earned steady silver, but influence could move mountains. If he bought tools for the tavern, it could bring in more customers. If he lent money to struggling adventurers, they’d owe him later. Even simple trades—herbs, potions, or food—could turn his spare coin into something that grew while he kept training.
It’s better to make the money work for me than just let it gather dust. If I do this right, I won’t just be a healer or an adventurer—I’ll be someone others need.
The thought settled in him like a seed taking root. For someone with a second life and a long road ahead, the path wasn’t just about strength—it was about building the foundation of power, coin by coin, until no one could ignore him.
After weighing his options, Ludger came to a clear decision. The money piling up in his chest wasn’t just for comfort or flashy spending—it was for something that mattered.
If I let it sit, it does nothing. But if I save enough, I can buy the tavern outright. That way, Mom won’t have to follow orders from anyone ever again. She’ll be the one giving them.
The thought made him smirk faintly. Elaine had worked tirelessly for years, bending to the whims of stingy owners and grumpy customers, all while keeping food on the table for both of them. She deserved better. Running her own place, her own way, suited her perfectly.
Of course, Ludger himself couldn’t work there like he had before. His training had grown too demanding, his healing services too valuable. The days when he could spend afternoons in the kitchen or cleaning tables were gone. That part couldn’t be helped.
But if I can give her the freedom to run it, then I don’t need to be there. She’ll be happier running her own tavern than working under someone else.
It was a long-term plan, one that would take months, maybe years, of steady saving. But Ludger was patient. Just as he built his strength day by day, he would build this future coin by coin until the tavern belonged to Elaine, not some faceless owner.
He tightened the lock on his coin chest and leaned back with a quiet nod. That’ll be the first real investment. For her—and for me.
Ludger decided there was no need to speak of it yet. Elaine already worried too much about him—if he told her he was saving up to buy the tavern, she would scold him for carrying burdens no child should.
Better to keep it to myself until the day comes. Then I’ll put the deed in her hands, and she won’t be able to refuse.
Each night, after healing until his mana ran dry, he would return to his room and slip the silver and gold into his chest. The clink of coins had become part of his routine, just like meditation or mana practice. A quiet rhythm of progress.
Elaine noticed, of course, how his pouch grew heavier, how the lockbox by his bed was never empty. She sometimes teased him, calling him her little merchant, but she didn’t press him for details. To her, it was just another quirk of her unusual son.
Ludger smirked at her words but said nothing, never correcting her. The plan wasn’t for today, nor tomorrow. It was for the moment when he had enough to walk into the tavern, pay in full, and place the keys in Elaine’s hand.
Until then, he would keep saving, keep building. His training and work came first, but the chest of coins would grow alongside his strength.
One day, Mom won’t just be cooking for someone else’s customers. She’ll be running the place on her own terms. And I’ll make sure of it.
Word of Ludger’s cheap and reliable healing spread quickly. Adventurers at the guild praised him, mercenaries whispered his name, and even townsfolk began to speak of the “boy healer” who worked faster than temple clerics and charged a fraction of the price. Business was booming, and coins clinked steadily into his chest.
But not all who came to the tavern had silver to spare.
One evening, after the rush had quieted, Ludger tugged at Arslan’s sleeve. “Come with me,” he said simply, offering no explanation. His father tilted his head but followed, curiosity painted across his face.
They slipped around to the back of the tavern, where the cobblestone alley met the dim glow of lanterns. There, leaning against the wall, was an old woman with a cane. Her leg was wrapped in dirty cloth, and even at a glance Ludger could see the swelling in her knee. Her eyes carried the weight of shame as much as pain.
When she noticed them, she startled and bowed her head. “Ah, I… I shouldn’t be here. I heard rumors, but I don’t have the coin to pay… I’ll just—”
“Stay still,” Ludger interrupted flatly. He crouched in front of her, his small hands already glowing faintly green.
The woman blinked, stammering, “B-but, boy, I can’t—”
“I said stay still.”
With a steady hand, Ludger placed his palm over the injured knee. The warm light of [Healing Touch] sank into the joint, spreading through swollen flesh and worn ligaments. The pain melted first, then the swelling eased, and by the time he pulled his hand away, the wound was gone.
The old woman blinked in disbelief, moving her leg slowly, then with growing freedom. Tears welled in her eyes as she clutched her cane to her chest. “I… I can walk. I can really walk again…”
Ludger stood, brushing the dirt from his knees, his expression calm and unreadable. “Don’t make a fuss.”
The woman bowed low, her voice breaking with gratitude. “Bless you, boy. Bless you.”
Arslan stood there scratching his cheek, a crooked grin on his face. “You’re really something, you know that? Heal people for silver by day, and heal those without coin in the shadows.”
As the old woman turned to leave, Ludger’s voice cut through the night.
“Wait. I can’t do this for free.”
She paused, her cane pressing into the cobblestones. “But… boy, I told you, I don’t have coin—”
“I don’t want coin.” Ludger’s tone was calm but unyielding. “If you’ve lived this long, you must know something I don’t. Information. Knowledge. Teach me something useful, and it’s worth more than silver.”
The woman blinked, then tilted her head thoughtfully. After a long silence, her lips curled into a faint smile. “In my youth, I was a bard. I sang in courts and taverns, lifted soldiers’ spirits on the battlefield, and carried news across kingdoms. My hands can’t play strings anymore, but my voice… my voice remembers. If you’d like, I can teach you the basics of composing music.”
Ludger raised a brow. “Music?”
She chuckled softly. “Even the smallest song carries power. Let me show you.”
Closing her eyes, she hummed a gentle tune—no more than a lullaby, but her voice carried a subtle resonance that stirred the air. Ludger listened intently, and in that moment, something stirred within him.
A shimmer flared across his vision:
[New Class Unlocked: Bard Lv 1- Bonus per Level: +1 INT, +1 WIS, +1 DEX ]
Skill Acquired: [Song of Ease Lv 1]
Soothes minor fatigue in allies with melody.
Ludger's lips curled into a smirk. “So it’s real… a Bard class.”
The woman lowered her cane, smiling faintly. “The first lesson is always the same: a song to ease the weary heart. Even the strongest warrior must rest, boy. Don’t forget that.”
Ludger ignored the extra words, his mind already racing. Healing to mend, Overdrive to endure, and now a melody to restore others… Each piece adds to the whole. I’ll make them work together until no one can match me.
Ludger lay on his bed that night, staring at the ceiling, the faint shimmer of [Song of Ease] still lingering in his mind. The Bard class was now etched into his list of paths, and with it came the question: how was he supposed to level it up?
Do I really have to sing in the tavern like some street performer? he thought, lips curling in mild annoyance. The idea of standing on a table, strumming an instrument, and crooning for drunks made his skin crawl. Still, classes grew only when used. If he wanted to strengthen the skill, he needed practice.
Maybe if I hum while I work, or sing low when the tavern is busy…? It would raise the class, and [Song of Ease] might grow useful if I can make it strong enough. Healing fatigue with sound couldn’t be as valuable as healing wounds.
Over the next weeks, the old woman appeared at the tavern a few times, her cane tapping against the wood as she made her way inside. She sought no healing, only to watch, to smile, and occasionally to share more of her bardic knowledge—old songs, breathing techniques, even a few tips on weaving rhythm into mana.
Ludger listened politely and thanked her each time, but in truth, he didn’t need the lessons. His [System] had already planted the foundation, and his intuition did the rest. Every time he hummed or sang, even softly, he could feel the Bard class pulse, slowly feeding on the effort.
I appreciate her kindness, but this isn’t about performance or art. It’s about utility. If I can make this class work for me—if I can make [Song of Ease] stronger—I’ll have another weapon in my arsenal. Whether the tavern patrons realize it or not, their laughter and relaxation will help me grow.
Ludger decided against turning the tavern into a stage. The thought of standing on a table, pretending to be some cheerful bard, made his stomach twist. He didn’t need applause, and he certainly didn’t need attention. What he needed was efficiency.
So, at night, when the tavern had gone quiet and Elaine was fast asleep, Ludger sat cross-legged in his room and practiced. At first, it was awkward. Singing wasn’t like casting a spell—there were no hand signs, no focusing of mana into a single point. Instead, the flow moved through his voice, carrying on the sound itself.
He hummed softly, letting the melody settle into the air. The glow of [Song of Ease] flickered faintly, and even though no one was there to benefit from it, he felt the pulse of his Bard class inch forward. So it works even if I practice alone. Good.
Every night after his meditation, when his mana pool was low and his body aching from training, he would sing. Simple tunes at first, then longer stretches, each one woven with mana until the glow came naturally with his breath. The old lady’s lessons lingered in the back of his mind, but he knew he didn’t truly need them. The system made sure he had the basics—what mattered was repetition.
After a few weeks, he noticed the results. His [Song of Ease] had become smoother, steadier, easier to call upon. When he sang, the skill worked faster, its soothing effect sharper. It wasn’t as dramatic as [Healing Touch], but Ludger could already see the value. In long fights, easing fatigue could mean the difference between standing tall or falling apart.
He leaned back one evening, satisfied as the soft light faded from his lips. I’ll keep this to myself for now. No one needs to know I’ve added Bard to my list. Not yet.
The faint smirk tugging at his lips was the only sound in the quiet room, save for the lingering hum of his last note.
One afternoon, Ludger returned from his training session with Selene to find his father sitting at the table, his arms crossed and his expression unusually heavy. It had been a long time since Arslan wore that kind of look—the kind that made everyone else pause and wonder just what kind of mess he had stepped in this time.
At first, he stayed quiet, drumming his fingers on the table while Elaine glared at him, her patience thinning by the second. The rest of his party traded glances, their silence heavy with expectation.
Finally, Arslan groaned and threw his hands up. “Fine, fine! I’ll say it before your stares burn a hole in me.” He straightened and tried to put on a serious face, though the unease in his eyes betrayed him.
“It’s about Viola,” he said, voice lowering. “Her grandfather… Lord Torvares, has sent a request. He wants to hire us—my party—to act as guards while she travels to the capital.”
The room went quiet, the weight of the name alone enough to press down on everyone. Even Harold’s easygoing grin faded.
“A tournament,” Arslan continued, rubbing the back of his neck. “Among the nobility. She’s been chosen to represent the Torvares family. Big honor, big attention. Which also means big risks. The old man wants to make sure nothing happens to her, so he’s sending us along.”
Elaine’s eyes narrowed into icy slits. “So once again, you’re dragging us into the politics of your past mistakes.”
Arslan winced, sweating as her words stabbed deeper than any blade. “H-hey, I didn’t ask for this! He insisted! And… well, refusing him isn’t exactly an option, you know? Besides, he will pay us.”
Cor adjusted his glasses, his expression unreadable. “The capital will be crawling with nobles, schemers, and guards. This isn’t just a tournament—it’s a display of power. If Viola is there, Lord Torvares is making a statement. And we’ll be caught right in the middle of it.”
Ludger leaned against the wall, frowning faintly. So Viola’s diving headfirst into a nest of vipers… and Father’s supposed to keep her safe? Sounds like trouble waiting to happen.
“I want to bring Ludger, too.”