Chapter 16: “Or Perhaps, He Is the Hidden Protagonist?”

An Luo dragged the bloody bucket back to his room, and a thick, fishy stench immediately permeated the entire space.

The Wizard Apprentice Dormitory didn’t have any fancy ventilation system—just a small window.

An Luo stared silently at the bucket on the floor, unsure what Meieruita meant by it.

The contents looked awful, but from the shapes, he could vaguely make out that it was some kind of animal matter.

It had died a gruesome death and been chopped into pieces afterward.

What the hell was this?

Why did Meieruita give it to him?

An Luo wanted to ask, but considering Meieruita’s injured state—and the paranoia he’d just displayed—he decided against provoking him rashly.

Better to wait until John came next time and ask him instead.

The next day, John showed up again.

He was kind-hearted, but not stupid. Though he hadn’t blamed his “friends” for what happened before, he realized they didn’t truly see him as one.

An Luo, a total stranger, had been willing to lend him enough gold coins to cover the apprentice monthly rent—clearly a “good guy.”

Plus, An Luo was troubled by tasks and meditation and the like, so John visited often, hoping to offer some help.

“This is Thorn Beast flesh!” John exclaimed in surprise.

The name alone made it click for An Luo.

Thorn Beasts were fairly useful magic beasts with strong reproductive abilities, and eating them boosted one’s physical strength.

They were an essential part of the daily diet for higher-level wizard apprentices.

As such, collection tasks for them popped up every month.

Junior wizard apprentices’ tasks included routine maintenance of the Wizard Tower, but there were also ones issued by mid-level wizard apprentices.

High-level wizard apprentices had the authority to assign tasks to junior ones, of course, with rewards provided by the issuers themselves.

For example, high-level apprentices could task mid-level ones, who in turn tasked juniors.

But compared to what they gained, the rewards were negligible.

In short, junior wizard apprentices were just errand boys for the higher-ups.

High-level apprentices turned their needs into tasks for the lower tiers, freeing up time for other things instead of collecting materials themselves.

As the task publisher, Aogufusi cleverly limited the number of official tasks, forcing junior wizard apprentices to take on ones from their seniors.

After completion, he pocketed rewards from the publishers and skimmed kickbacks from the task rewards themselves.

Profiting from both ends—couldn’t get much sweeter than that.

Thorn Beast flesh collection was a mid-level task. Why had Meieruita given it to him?

“Maybe to stockpile?” John scratched his head. “Thorn Beast flesh stays fresh for a long time. If you take a collection task next time, you can gather less and use this to make up the difference.”

An Luo figured that might be it.

Maybe the protagonist was just offering a little help out of their mutual interests?

An Luo stayed silent.

Meieruita, you think way too highly of me.

I’ll never touch a mid-level task. At most, I’ll stick to junior ones and scrape by to survive.

After some thought, An Luo decided to return the bucket of flesh to Meieruita.

And explain the situation while he was at it.

After agonizing a bit, he knocked on Meieruita’s door.

“Something you need?” Meieruita opened it, his expression cold and detached as he blocked the doorway, clearly not inviting An Luo in.

An Luo didn’t mind and pointed to the bucket of Thorn Beast flesh. “Thank you very much, but you’d better take this back.”

Meieruita frowned, looking displeased. “You don’t want it? Why?”

An Luo: “Uh, you think too highly of me. I’m not taking any Thorn Beast flesh collection tasks—this is useless to me—”

“Then eat it.” Meieruita cut him off coldly. “At least it’s more useful than dried fish.”

With that, he slammed the door shut without mercy.

Bang! A cloud of dust puffed up.

An Luo: “…”

That was brutally cold.

I get that you hate me, but no need to make it this obvious, right?

In a fit of anger, An Luo stewed.

That very night, he cooked up the Thorn Beast flesh from the bucket.

And damn, it tasted pretty good—way better than regular magic beast meat.

…Smells amazing.

An Luo was deeply grateful he’d written John into the story back then.

At least now he had someone to team up with, and since John was a genuinely good person, there was no worry about backstabbing or hidden schemes.

On the way back from redeeming a new book at the library, An Luo chatted with John.

“I hate it here,” John sighed. “I want to go home.”

An Luo nodded, feeling the same. “Me too.”

They both sighed together.

Unfortunately, wishing wouldn’t make it happen. When everyone entered the Wizard Tower, they’d all signed contracts, becoming part of it forever—unless a wizard approved, leaving was impossible.

But approach a wizard?

…There were plenty of better ways to die in the world.

“But I don’t regret it,” John said, perking up quickly. “At least I traded for a healing potion and cured my sister’s illness!”

An Luo felt a bit inspired by his positivity. Yeah, if I just endure for five years, once the protagonist takes over the Wizard Tower and the old guard shifts, I can slip away.

One junior task a month for five years—the survival odds weren’t bad.

And if he could sense magic power, those odds would multiply several times.

The future looked promising.

They parted at the fork in the road, and An Luo headed toward his dormitory.

Though it was still some time until next month’s tasks, just thinking about it gave him a headache.

He smacked his right hand with the book in his left hand:

Dead hand, it’s all your fault!

Making me write nonsense!

Footsteps sounded behind him. An Luo instinctively stepped aside and pulled his hood lower.

“An Luo.”

Meieruita’s voice was icy.

An Luo: “What is it?”

“Come with me on next month’s task.”

An Luo: “…?”

He refused on reflex. “No need to trouble yourself.”

They’d reached the dormitory door. An Luo opened it to go in. “I’ve already teamed up with John.”

As he tried to close the door, resistance came—Meieruita braced it with his hand and strode inside.

“In the book you wrote, who exactly is the protagonist?” Meieruita’s voice was frigid. “Is it really me?”

An Luo hadn’t expected Meieruita to still be hung up on this. He was speechless. “Of course it’s you. Who else could it be?”

Meieruita’s long, pale fingers lightly tapped the desk. “Then everything you said before was true?”

An Luo: “Absolutely true, I swear!”

Meieruita lifted his gaze, his cold eyes fixing over. “If so, why get so close to a character who was supposed to die early?”

“John has no strength. He’s weak, stupid, gullible. By your words, he’s disposable cannon fodder. Yet you hang around with him. Aren’t you afraid he’ll drag you down to your death in some accident?”

An Luo: “…”

Look at you saying that—like I had any other choice?

Meieruita didn’t meet An Luo’s eyes directly, his brows slightly lowered as if talking to himself. “You rejected me and insist on going with him. Perhaps… you know I’ll die on the next task, so you’re avoiding me on purpose, right?”

“As the Creator, you unusually befriend insignificant cannon fodder.” Meieruita crossed his fingers. “Is he really cannon fodder?”

“Or perhaps, he is the hidden protagonist?”

An Luo nearly knelt at his wild imagination.

“I’m begging you…” An Luo gave up entirely. “That’s way too far-fetched!”

“Is it?” Meieruita’s expression remained calm. “I don’t see any holes in my theory.”

An Luo: “…”

He got it now.

Clearly, Meieruita’s paranoia was flaring up again.

From the protagonist’s view, the author cozying up to a cannon fodder character without fear of bad luck rubbing off meant something fishy.

So he’d started doubting his own “protagonist” status, suspecting An Luo had lied and that John was the real deal.

“It’s not!” An Luo said weakly. “Just look at the names—you’re way more protagonist-like than him!”

Meieruita glanced over.

An Luo: “I picked your name with utmost care. It took days just to decide, and every character has meaning.”

“Mei, E, Rui, Ta.” An Luo explained the connotations. “So refined, and it sounds great together.”

“John? Chuck a brick into a crowd, and you’d hit three Johns.” An Luo was exhausted. “I just random-generated it with a name generator.”

“If he were the protagonist, no way I’d slap such a lazy name on him.”

“Plus, I couldn’t even remember his name until he introduced himself.”

“And talent.” An Luo pressed on. “You’re a once-in-a-generation genius. He’s totally average.”

“I gave you the absolute best in everything. He got offed for a boxed lunch not long after debuting. Doesn’t that prove it?”

“Look at you—so smart, so strong. John hasn’t even learned a single witchcraft spell yet. How could he possibly be the protagonist?”

An Luo looked at Meieruita, waiting for the next bizarre question.

But Meieruita fell silent.

Bangs shadowed his eyes, and the air hung quiet for a moment.

After a while, Meieruita broke the silence. “Then why refuse me?”

“If I’m the protagonist like you say—with extreme luck—wouldn’t you be safer by my side?”

An Luo: “…Heh.”

Keep pretending, and it’s no fun.

You still want to kill me, and I’m not an idiot.

But An Luo didn’t blurt it out, to avoid shattering the fragile peace. “It’s just a junior task—no big deal. I lack experience, so I wanted someone to show me the ropes. John’s a good guy, won’t… uh, anyway, it’s safer.”

No lies here. Now scram.

“Contract.”

Suddenly, Meieruita said calmly, “I’ll bring a contract tonight.”

An Luo stared at him in shock.

Who are you? I don’t know you! You’re not my protagonist!