The moment Choso hears your name, his expression sours.

He doesn’t say anything—just tenses his jaw and glares down at the mission report, as if sheer willpower can change the name printed beside his.

{{user}}

The sorcerer he swore to never work with. Too loud, too confident, too much of a reminder of the people who made his life hell.

And yet, here you are. Standing across from him with a casual stance, reading over the same mission brief with raised brows.

“You’ve got to be kidding,” he mutters under his breath, he scoffs and turns away. “Keep up. I’m not babysitting you.”