"You're not compatible."
Kael Virell stood at the grand iron gate of the Yaldreth estate, his light silver hair tied in a ponytail as a polite smile pinned to his face. His eyes darkened às the steward's words sunk in. Behind him, the afternoon sun baked the cobblestone road and highlighted the faint glint of a shimmering 5-star above the steward's brow. Kael's own brow remained conspicuously empty. Just above his dark mop of hair, the air shimmered faintly with a glowing 0—the world's greatest curse.
"Rejected?"
Kael's smile didn't falter as the steward of House Yaldreth gave him the same tired look he had received fourteen times before.
"I'm sorry, but our House only accepts servants with at least one star. A zero star… simply wouldn't be compatible with our needs."
Kael bowed politely, suppressing the sting behind his eyes. "Of course. Thank you for your time."
He turned from the towering gates, only to pause when a young man approached. Above the stranger's head shimmered a single golden star. The steward instantly brightened. "Ah, you must be here for the servant position. Right this way."
Kael stood by the gate a moment longer, watching the one-star get ushered in like royalty. "Of course," he muttered to himself. "He has potential."
A four-star guard noticed his hesitation and barked, "Hey! You deaf? I said move it, beggar!"
Kael raised his hands in peace. "Already on my way."
The guard snorted. "Commoners like you have no business standing near noble ground."
Kael smiled again. It was almost a reflex now. "Right. Sorry about that."
Still smiling, Kael nodded and stepped away. The moment he entered the bustling city market, his expression relaxed into a neutral blankness.
People passed him in a flurry—each bearing a visible glowing star above their head. The fruit vendor was a 1-star. The city guards towered as 3-stars. A carriage rolled past, flanked by armored soldiers, carrying a noble with 6-stars above their head.
Kael sighed and walked on, hands in his pockets.
"That's the fifteenth time," he thought to himself. "Fifteen different places. Fifteen different rejections. And all the same reason."
He passed a baker who had once told him, "We'd love to have you but… 0 stars? I can't even trust you not to trip carrying a tray."
A blacksmith had grunted, "Sorry, kid. Even my apprentice's dog has one star."
A maid recruiter laughed in his face once: "What use is a zero when I'm trying to hire for the Duchess' estate?"
Even a farmer had said, "You'd probably kill the crops by standing next to 'em."
Kael trudged into a dim corner of the market and ducked into a small, warm tavern: The Laughing Ember. The bartender glanced up from polishing a mug.
"Hey, Kael."
"Hey, Thomlin," Kael muttered.
Thomlin's bald head gleamed in the tavern light, and the single 0-star above his brow flickered faintly like a forgotten candle.
"You look like a kicked puppy," Thomlin teased. "Let me guess. Rejection number fifteen?"
Kael slumped onto the barstool. "I'm starting to think I should open my own house. House Rejection. Our family motto will be: 'Thanks, but no thanks.'"
Thomlin chuckled and slid him a small mug. "You get one. I'm not carrying your sorry ass home again."
Kael downed it in one go and sighed. "Maybe I'll just ask that old cranky lady again. You know, the one who hired a cleaner and then tried to 'teach me about love' in ways that still haunt me."
Thomlin laughed so hard he nearly dropped a glass. "Didn't you say she tried to chain you to the bathtub?"
Kael winced. "Only emotionally. I think."
Thomlin shook his head. "Man, you really are cursed. You got skills for cleaning, yeah, but the system says no to cooking. No combat. No magic. You're like a broken build from an old game."
Kael chuckled, then stared at his hands. A small window only he could see hovered beside them.
[SYSTEM INTERFACE: STATUS]
Name: Kael Virell
Star Rank: 0★
Occupation: None
Inventory:
Divine Mob (Bound)
Abilities: Unknown
"The only thing I've had since I was a kid is this damn mob," he thought bitterly. "Not even a skill. Not even a beginner's cleaning spell."
"It just appeared when I turned twelve," he murmured. "Does nothing. Like me."
Thomlin wiped a mug beside him. "Still staring at your game stats like it's gonna change?"
"Wishful thinking," Kael replied. "You know, it's kind of weird. I have a last name. Virell. Most 0-stars don't even get one. Not even the 4-star guards have surnames."
"Maybe you're secretly a cursed noble heir."
Kael snorted. "Yeah. Cursed to sweep floors for minimum coin."
He swirled the drink in his hand, gaze distant.
"When I was at the orphanage, they told us everything changed after the Demon King died 15,000 years ago. That's when the stars appeared. The system was made to 'maintain balance' or whatever. Turns out it just built another wall."
Thomlin leaned in. "What now?"
Kael shrugged. "Dunno. Rent's due next week. Landlady said if I don't have the coin, I'm out."
"You could work here," Thomlin offered half-heartedly. "Except we already have five cleaners, and the kitchen's full. You know how the system works—if your skills don't match, the bar literally breaks down."
"Great. Can't even sweep in a bar," Kael muttered.
Just then, the door to the tavern opened. A group of three people entered, one waving a flyer excitedly. They sat at a table behind Kael.
"You see this?" one of them whispered. "The Grand Arcanum Academy is looking for a janitor. Free room. Free meals. Even basic healing services."
Kael's ears twitched. He glanced back slightly.
"A magic school?" another said. "Man, imagine working there. They've got mages, spell-forged staircases, food that cooks itself…"
Kael scoffed loudly. "Yeah, right. Work at some noble-snot school, wiping up after arrogant 4-stars who probably think a broom is a type of sword?"
Thomlin smirked. "You sound interested."
"I'd rather live in a sewer and eat old cabbage than become a glorified chamberpot handler for those snobs."
"They also offer free room service," one of the people behind him said.
Kael's eyes lit up for a brief second. "Really?" he whispered, almost instinctively, then immediately slapped himself. "No. Bad Kael. You have dignity."
He turned to his drink. "No way I'm going. Nope. Not happening. No sir."
Thomlin chuckled. "You're going, aren't you?"
Kael's eye twitched. "I… am not. I am a man of resolve. Of pride. Of integrity."
"…You're broke."
"…I'm a man of desperation."
The scene closed with Kael groaning into the bar. "No way. I'm not doing it. Not happening."