Night had settled over Solneva like a blanket of black silk.  

The moon glowed faintly above the lower city, its light bending through demonic smog.  

Jexy followed the fiery-haired guildmaster and a few other members down a crooked alley, where the cobblestones were cracked and the streetlights flickered like dying fireflies.

“This way,” Lyssara said. Her voice was sharp, confident, but also slightly… embarrassed.

They stopped in front of a building that looked like it had lost a long battle against time, gravity, and possibly a drunken ogre.  

The signboard hung sideways. The door squeaked.  

One of the windows was boarded up with a “Please Don’t Kick This Again” sign.

Jexy tilted his head. “...This is the guild?”

Lyssara crossed her arms. “The *Chalice of Emberlight.* Don’t judge it by appearances.”

He stared at a rat crawling out of the wall, holding what looked like a guild badge in its mouth. “I’m trying very hard not to.”

Inside, the place wasn’t much better.  

Half the furniture was cracked, the floorboards groaned, and the ceiling leaked something that was either water or regret.  

A small banner hung crooked on the wall: *‘We Believe in Tomorrow.’* Someone had scribbled underneath: *‘Because Today Is Broke.’*

Jexy rubbed his temples. “President… we might need to redefine the word ‘guild.’ This looks like a haunted bar with tax problems.”

Lyssara spun around, eyes flashing. “If you think it’s so bad, then help us fix it! Take a quest or two! Earn some coin like everyone else!”

He raised a brow. “Didn’t I just hand you one million gold earlier?”

Her jaw tightened. “That… doesn’t even cover our interest.”

“Interest?!” Jexy blinked. “You mean this place is in debt?”

From the corner, a voice drifted out—smooth, teasing, and far too amused.

“Oh, you sweet clueless rich boy,” said a woman as she stepped out from the shadows, her movements soft as smoke.  

Velna Nyx, the guild’s shadowborn rogue, grinned like she’d been waiting for this moment all day.  

Her silver eyes gleamed mischievously. “Welcome to the bottom of the food chain.”

Jexy squinted. “You are…?”

“Velna. Resident thief, gossip queen, and unofficial debt historian.” She stretched her arms. “You really joined without checking our finances? Adorable.”

Lyssara groaned. “Velna, not now—”

“Oh, come on, boss,” Velna said, twirling a dagger between her fingers. “He deserves the truth.  

See, *our* guild isn’t just broke. We’re historically broke.  

We owe the Demon Guild Administration four million gold in back fees.  

That’s about, oh, a century of unpaid dues.  

Then there’s thirty thousand to the tavern down the street—”  

“Thirty *thousand*,” Lyssara corrected.  

Velna waved a hand. “Details. And seventy-something to that weapon shop you kind of… exploded last month?”

Lyssara’s face went crimson. “That was an accident!”

“Uh-huh,” Velna grinned. “Anyway, point is—our debt’s roughly five million, give or take whatever you blow up next week.”

Jexy stood there in silence, one hand on his chin.  

Five million? That was supposed to sound terrifying, but to him, it was like being told the soup cost an extra spoon of salt.

He sighed. “So all this noise… over a few million?”

Velna blinked. “A *few* million?”

Lyssara clenched her fists. “You think that’s small change?!”

Jexy shrugged. “Depends on how you spend it.”

Before anyone could respond, a blinding golden light flared from his ring.  

The sound of metal filled the air as piles upon piles of coins materialized on the floor, spilling across the room like a tidal wave of wealth.

Everyone froze. Even the ceiling leak stopped out of sheer intimidation.

“There,” Jexy said casually, brushing invisible dust off his coat.  

“One thousand million gold. Pay off everything. Cover the next few centuries too. Maybe buy some decent chairs.”

Lyssara stared, eyes wide, mouth slightly open, as if she’d forgotten how to breathe.  

Velna’s dagger slipped from her fingers and clattered to the floor.  

Even the rat from earlier peeked back in, probably reconsidering its life choices.

“You… you can’t just—” Lyssara started, but her voice cracked halfway through.  

Her pride and her sanity were at war, and both were losing.

Jexy smiled lazily. “Consider it an investment. Or a tip. Whichever sounds less awkward.”

Velna whistled low. “Boss… I think we just got bought.”

Lyssara exhaled slowly, eyes narrowing as she looked at him again—really looked.  

The way he handled that much gold, the ease in his tone, the total disregard for consequences.  

Something about him screamed *dangerously privileged.*

“Who exactly are you, Jexy?” she asked quietly.

He gave her that same disarming grin. “Just a guy who hates empty rooms.”

Outside, the moonlight spilled through the cracked window, gleaming off the mountain of gold.  

And for the first time in years, the Chalice of Emberlight sparkled like an actual chalice.  

Even if it was built on debt, madness, and one idiot’s endless wallet.