The Good Teacher

In truth, Guy didn't suspect foul play from the start. He reasonably assumed that the lack of visitors and interested parties to the True World Sect's kiosk was likely due to their lack of exposure and the fact that a lot of the more renowned sects were still running their recruitments. He believed that once the initial rush to secure a place in the big sects teetered off, the visitor count would start growing.

The first day was generally uneventful, and so was the second. Then the third day came and the drought continued. What made it even more suspicious was how certain passers-by jerked their heads forcefully away from the kiosk with apprehensive expressions on their faces. To top it off, Jean returned that day with some peculiar news.

"People seem to be taking the leaflet, crumpling it in front of me and tossing it back at my feet," Jean said with a slightly irate tone. It was clear that the usually stoic girl was infuriated, but her condition was limiting her ability to express this overflowing emotion. "I tried reasoning with one of the culprits, but they just ran away without saying a word. Though a few did apologise to me. But why do it if you are simply going to apologise later?!"

"It eerily feels as though we've been blacklisted, Master," Markus surmised.

"It can't be the Alliance. They wouldn't risk offending a sect with an Elder in the Tesseract Transformation realm," Guy reasoned.

"So it must be someone who has no idea of our background. It could be another sect, or..."

Markus left the sentence on an elongated tone that grew softer as a realisation started to take root. "It can't be-"

"It seems to be so," Guy finished Markus' exclamation. "It is as you predicted. That boy cannot handle the rejection and hopes to strongarm us into it."

"What do we do, then?" Markus voiced his worry while Jean slumped her shoulders.

"We cannot leverage any advantages here," Guy explained. "The boy is fully within his powers to do whatever he is doing right now. We can try to oppose him in some way, but that will further antagonise him and could possibly spiral into a full-blown conflict with his Clan."

"Maybe I can go talk to him?" Jean offered. "Although our clans are in equal standing, an agreement of some sort could be achieved"

"Will you be representing the Sect's interests or your Clan's?" Guy said rhetorically. "If you're representing the Sect, he won't back down until he gets what he wants. If it's your Clan, however, then maybe we could get somewhere, but it would then embroil your Clan into the conflict."

"What other options do we have?" Markus muttered.

A tense silence took hold within the oddly empty kiosk that stood socially quarantined amidst a throng of flowing foot traffic. After a minute, Guy released a long and frustrated breath.

"There is probably a solution to this predicament," he declared. "But I don't think we will find it here."

Guy prepared to leave the stand. "You two can handle recruitment, right? Yeah... If anyone does show up then introduce them to the Sect as well as you can."

"Master? Are you leaving?"

"Only temporarily. I need some time to think. I don't believe I'll make any headway into our problem if I'm surrounded by such scathing gazes twenty-four-seven," Guy jerked his chin to five different locations in their vicinity, and five different people flinched and hastily averted their gazes. Only then did Markus notice the constant surveillance he was under this entire time.

____

Guy left the Recruitment Grounds at a brisk pace. He looked around and managed to catch a few observers trying their hardest to act inconspicuously. Guy could sense that these stalkers were all mages in the Late Stage of Mana Condensation realm; they probably weren't trained in staking out a target. Regardless of their ineptitude in stalking a target, they were anything but diligent in their dogged pursuit to keep Guy in their sights at all times. To throw off his followers, Guy transitioned from one district to the next. However, there was always someone there - he would catch a rogue glimpse of them from the corner of his vision or through his mana senses.

But after a few more transitions, Guy noticed the follower count diminish. It seemed that the further he dwelled into the commoner's districts, the more the eyes trained on him lessened. Eventually, he crossed a pair of gates with rust peeking through the crusted paint of gold - an apt descriptor of what lay beyond. This wasn't the absolute low-class district, akin to the Flea Markets with double digits. This was a legitimate commercial district for the low to the middle class which amounted to the majority of the population in the Capital, which was evidenced by the insane foot traffic and vibrant hawking scene. The market was dynamic, voices overlapped with voices, yet people could easily pick out what interested them from the strangely decipherable din. The roads branched and merged unintelligibly - it was easy to get lost in the maze-like design - but people seemed to be navigating through it with familiarity.

Guy too was lost, both physically and mentally. His feet carried him around the area, in circles, squares and all kinds of shapes. He'd passed the same shop at least six times, but all the while he was unaware of his entranced journey. His mind was preoccupied with the latest trouble affecting him and his Sect.

That boy, whoever he was, from the Hugin Clan, was turning out to be a nuisance. His actions of implementing an informal embargo on the True World Sect were inhibiting the number of recruits they could amass. Guy was unsure of how the kid accomplished this; was it through force or finance? Nonetheless, something had to be done or Guy would be leaving the Capital empty-handed and putting his Sect in a precarious position of being disbanded at the time of the first audit.

There was only one way to lift this embargo without a show of force from Guy's side and that was by giving the kid what he wanted. However, Guy wasn't keen on doing something like that. Unlike Markus, the kid had malicious thoughts about where he wanted to apply the magic. Guy could fathom just how much devastation Markus' magic could wreak. Fortunately, his Disciple was level-headed and altruistic and didn't let the power get to his head. Guy had little confidence in the Hugin boy's character - he wasn't going to hand a weapon of mass destruction to a selfish megalomaniac.

Thus came the impasse.

Guy sighed and wore a bitter smile at the irony of the situation. "What would Jo Way do if he were in my position?"

Something reckless, that's for sure. Possibly confront the boy, strongarm him into raising the embargo, then go down the rabbit hole of defeating every other body the Hugin Clan and their affiliates could throw his way to correct the initial slight. Exhaustive, decisive, and brutish, but in the end, he'd get what he wanted. There was a certain beauty in the efficacy of the martial approach that was missing in the diplomatic route; one could get everything one wanted without conceding anything. But the embers of burning a bridge in the social space often instigated other nearby bridges to suffer a similar fate. Besides, was there any honour in competing with an immature child?

Again, Guy had some experience working under similar situations in his past life. Although charitable organisations were non-profit, they were organisations nonetheless. The competition was fierce, and operating territory was a heavily contested matter. Oftentimes, it would be one organisation taking the lead while others contributed passively. But Guy's excessively proactive behaviour was frequently a point of irritation for his fellow charities. There were many times when his organisation was excluded from joint endeavours.

Ultimately, if barriers are blocking your access, then make your own entrance. Guy wasn't above exploiting the media to his advantage. By leaking his charity's decision to operate in a contested region to the media, he could easily undercut the unspoken blockade enforced by his fellow non-profits. It was petty, but if it was for the benefit of children Guy had no qualms against it.

"There has to be a way around this problem as well," Guy muttered.

At that moment, something bumped into Guy. The jerk was followed by the sound of someone falling. This was enough to bring Guy out of his thoughts. His senses flared immediately and captured the presence of a boy with a stick in his hands who collapsed on the ground behind him.

"S-Sorry!" The boy voiced meekly. "P-Please spare a coin," he added while shakily raising an empty bowl.

Guy instinctively reached towards his jacket's inner pocket, as his gaze evaluated the child. He should be about twelve years old, but his body was emaciated and matched that of a much younger boy. A beggar, that much was obvious. His clothes were ragged and torn and caked in dirt. His hair was long and matted, and his arm had many bruises. Guy's eyes narrowed as he recognised the nature of the bruises.

"Did someone hurt you?" He asked sternly.

"W-What, no?!" The boy shrieked before turning to run away, only to trip and fall once again.

Guy leapt forward and stopped the boy mid-fall. He helped the kid stabilise himself and kneeled to dust the boy's clothes. "Hey, careful. Watch where you're going-"

Guy's words were caught in his throat as his eyes matched the face of the boy with that of one of the refugee kids sneaking into the Capital a few days back. But the boy's identity wasn't what caused Guy to hesitate.

Guy's demeanour cracked as rage started to boil over from within. His mana started to undulate, causing the surrounding area to pulsate aggressively. Pressure started to mount, causing people to move away and gawk in surprise and horror.

"Who did this to you?" Guy spoke with chilled anger in his voice.

"H-Help-"

"WHO. DID. THIS!" Guy bellowed. At that moment, another child rushed forward from the crowd. He was of a similar age and was also someone Guy recognised from earlier. Another refugee.

"Please, Master Mage. Please forgive us," the second boy pleaded while repeatedly banging his head on the ground in fear.

However, Guy's infuriated gaze did not leave the first child's face. It was tethered to one location: the empty sockets where the child's eyes should have been.