Starting Off With Space-Time Magic!

On the fourth day of working at the Adventurers' Guild, I'd grown closer to Locke and Claire. At first, the novelty of Cleanliness had brought a rush of curious customers, but adventurers didn't need the spell daily. Most of them only bothered when their work left them particularly filthy, or if they were naturally meticulous about hygiene.

As demand for Cleanliness evened out, Locke and Claire's usual customers returned to them, and I was relieved. The last thing I wanted was to rob them of their livelihood. In a way, I owed Naana for setting the price so high—it had deterred the kind of overuse that would have left me feeling guilty.

During slow moments, Naana would share stories over tea and snacks. She told me that all the catfolk in this city were somehow related. Their tribe consisted only of women, as they could only have children by partnering with males from other races. Sons inherited the father's race, while daughters were born as catfolk, perpetuating the tribe. It was a curious quirk of their biology.

As the sun began to dip below the horizon, I bid farewell to Locke and Claire and started toward the inn. The streets were quieting down, but as I turned a corner, three men emerged from an alleyway, blocking my path. My stomach tightened with unease. When I glanced behind me, three more men appeared, cutting off my retreat.

This is bad.

The men began to close the distance, their predatory intent clear. Desperate, I shouted for help.

"Somebody! Help!"

The air seemed to freeze, an unnatural silence blanketing the street. My shout felt like it had been swallowed whole. I realized then that no help would come.

Taking a deep breath, I forced myself to focus. Fighting was my only option, slim as my chances were. I activated my internal mana reserves and unleashed a spell at the men in front of me.

"Sleep Cloud!"

A dense, white mist enveloped the three men, and within moments, they staggered and collapsed, unconscious. The men behind me surged forward, closing the gap rapidly. I turned and sprinted, careful not to breathe in my own spell. But one of them grabbed my shoulder, yanking me back.

They're trying to capture me alive, I thought, grimly realizing my predicament. If I didn't resist too much, I might avoid being killed outright. But that hesitation was my undoing. A crushing blow of magic struck the back of my head, and darkness consumed me.

I woke in a pitch-black room, the faint scent of damp stone filling my nose. There were no windows, only walls that seemed to close in. Judging by the chill and the lack of light, I was in a basement or underground cell.

My hands and feet were bound tightly with rope, and a gag had been stuffed into my mouth. Worse, my short sword was gone—likely confiscated.

Magic required verbal incantations, and the gag rendered me helpless. I couldn't cast even the simplest spell.

How long was I unconscious? I wondered. If it had only been a few hours, it might still be nighttime. Perhaps Mia had noticed my absence by now, though whether that would lead to help was uncertain.

"Ah, so you're awake."

The voice of a man drew my attention. As my eyes adjusted to the dark, I spotted him—a figure standing near the wall, his posture casual but his presence threatening. He wasn't one of the six men who had ambushed me.

This must be the one who had cast the sound-suppressing barrier earlier—a mage.

"A child who can use Cleanliness will fetch a high price among nobles," the man said, his tone almost conversational. "Unlucky, kid. If you hadn't drawn so much attention with your earnings, this might not have happened."

I glared at him, furious but helpless. He smirked, clearly enjoying my powerless state.

"Well, talking to a gagged kid isn't much fun. Let me fix that—but don't get any ideas about casting magic. I'll make sure you can't."

He raised a hand, his voice sharp as he incanted:

"Geas: Forbidden to Cast Magic Without My Permission."

My stomach dropped. Geas? That was high-tier dark magic, far beyond what an ordinary criminal should have access to. How had someone like him learned such a spell?

True to his word, the man removed my gag. I tested my voice, but no incantations came to mind—I could already feel the spell's restrictive weight binding my magic.

"Let's get introductions out of the way," he said. "I'm Naizel. A mage of unparalleled skill, even if I've fallen to the wrong side of the law."

"…Matthew," I muttered. "Naizel, why would a mage capable of casting Geas stoop to kidnapping?"

"Money, of course."

"If it's money you want, you could serve under a noble or work for a court mage's guild—"

"Serve?" he interrupted, sneering. "You want me to bow and scrape to people weaker than me? To flatter men less capable? No, thanks. This suits me just fine."

"Then you'd rather live as a criminal? That makes no sense to me."

"Of course it doesn't. You're just a naïve brat." He leaned closer, his smile sharp. "Still, I'd like to know what I'm dealing with. Show me your status. Let's see what you're worth."

"I… I don't have one."

"Don't lie to me, boy."

"I'm not lying. I'm not ten yet. I haven't received a status or a gift."

Naizel's eyes narrowed, suspicion flickering in his gaze. But as he studied me, a slow, menacing grin spread across his face.

"Well, aren't I lucky?" he said, his tone dripping with malice. "No status. No gift. And yet, your magical prowess is exceptional. You must come from a prestigious lineage, hmm? Oh, yes, you're going to make me very, very rich."

I clenched my fists, rage bubbling beneath the surface. Bound, gagged, and stripped of my magic, I was powerless to retaliate.

The sound of breaking glass shattered the tense silence. Naizel immediately darted to the corner of the room, drawing a short staff from his belt. He pointed it toward the staircase leading upward, where a trapdoor was visible.

My heart raced as the sound of footsteps echoed faintly above.

Someone was here.

Naizel's body tensed, his eyes locked on the trapdoor.

Was this my chance? Or just the prelude to something worse?