For a second, I wondered if I'd misheard him.
"Tomorrow?"
"Yes. Tomorrow." His gaze had already drifted back to his papers, the matter clearly settled in his mind. The scratch of his pen picked up again, steady and unhurried, as if our conversation had been nothing more than a minor interruption in an otherwise predictable day.
I stood there for a beat too long, caught off guard. I'd been ready for resistance, for the slow push-and-pull of negotiation, maybe even some sort of deal where I'd have to do as he asked, or just plain rejection. Not for… whatever this was. It felt almost like I'd just been handed something far too easily, which, in my experience, usually meant there were strings attached— strings that would inevitably tangle at the worst possible time. Still, it doesn't matter, once I'm not Sebastian anymore all these strings will not longer tied to me.
So I wasn't going to complain. "Thank you," I said, and meant it— though a part of me something rare— something unexpected.
As I left the office, the door closed with a soft click behind me, I couldn't shake the faint feeling that I'd just stepped into the middle of a game I didn't know I was playing. The corridor outside was quiet, the only sound was the muted echo of my own footsteps against the polished floor.
By the time I was halfway down, the initial satisfaction had cooled into quiet puzzlement. The Baron wasn't exactly famous for handing out valuables like free samples. He measures every decision, weighs every request. And yet, this time, I'd walked in, asked for the spatial ring, and been met with immediate agreement— no questions, no tests, not even a pause to consider the need.
It wasn't suspicious exactly… just unexpected. I'd braced for a polite refusal, maybe even a lecture about patience or responsibility. Instead, I was leaving with a promise that tomorrow, the ring would be mine.
I shrugged to myself. Maybe I'd caught him in a good mood— whatever that looked like for him. Or maybe he'd simply felt the ring was something unexceptional despite its magical attribute. Either way, it isn't worth overthinking. The important thing is that I got what I wanted without the hassle of sneaking around.
Still, I couldn't quite shake the faint itch of curiosity about why it had been so easy.
---
The following afternoon, I was summoned to the Baron's office. The heavy door closed softly behind me, sealing in the familiar stillness of the room. It smelled faintly of ink and polished wood, the same scent it always carried, and the afternoon light filtering through the tall windows fell in pale gold across the desk.
The Baron was seated as before, posture straight, papers aligned in precise stacks at his right hand. His pen rested on the inkwell, its tip glinting faintly in the light. Without preamble, he opened the top drawer, reached inside, and set an ornate small box on the desk between us.
As I opened the box the metal caught the light, a subtle shimmer moving over its surface.
At one glance, it looked like a simple piece of metal— a crude ring a commoner would wear. But on closer inspection along the inner side of the ring one could see tiny, intricate etchings wound along its surface, patterns so fine they could have been mistaken for natural grain until the light caught them just right, revealing runes so old they seemed to hum faintly with their own quiet life.
The craftsmanship spoke of patience and precision, the kind of work only a master enchanter— or perhaps generations of them— could achieve. It appeared to be one of earliest rings made for such a purpose. Because even if magical items aren't very common in this kingdom, they are more progressive in other kingdoms like Morvik.
"Use it well," he said simply, his tone carrying neither warmth nor reproach—just a quiet finality.
I stepped forward, the soft carpet muffling my steps, and picked it up. It was lighter than I expected, cool against my fingertips, the surface perfectly smooth except for a faint engraving along the inside edge. The moment my skin met it fully, a gentle hum vibrated through the band, like the soft pulse of something alive and waiting.
"I will," I replied, meeting his gaze for a heartbeat.
That was all. No questions, no warnings, no list of rules to follow. He'd given it to me as plainly as one might pass along a sealed letter. I slid the ring onto my finger, feeling it settle there with an ease that made me unusually optimistic.
When I stepped out into the corridor again, the air felt cooler, as if the office door had shut me out of a different world entirely. I turned the ring over once in my palm, watching the shimmer play faintly under the light, before tucking it safely away.
Whatever his reason for giving it to me, I wasn't about to waste the opportunity. The ring was mine now. And for the moment, that was enough.