It was already nearing dusk, and the shadows in the sleepy town had started to grow. Idris had been staying at the town's inn for the past few days, as he still hadn't gotten any message from his parents that he was allowed back home. He was heading back to the inn after having visited the small market in the town square, and was passing through a dark and small alleyway when he suddenly heard a voice behind him. "Idris Johansson?" "Who asks? Show yourself!" Idris said, looking around for the source of the voice. "Ah, sorry, can't show myself. Rules of the job. But you're Idris right?" It was a man's voice, coming from behind a pile of crates. The darkness made it hard to see what the owner of the voice looked like. "...Yes, I am." Idris narrowed his eyes. He could almost make out a pair of bright red eyes in the shadow. "Great! Well, the investigation surrounding that thing with the party at the mansion and that bomb has been concluded, and we're pretty sure you're not responsible." The only response the voice got was a single raised eyebrow. "Anyway, the storm's died down in the high society now you're cleared of all suspicion. I heard your mom and pop kicked you out, must be pretty tough, right? But you can go back now without getting any funny looks or anything. I guess. Not sure if your reputation was simply caused by that incident or if you're really like that... Not that it's my job to judge..." "That's... good news." Idris said slowly, still not sure if this was all a joke or not. "Alright then, I've gotta be off. Got some more jobs waiting for me. Good luck kid!" The voice replied, followed by a soft whooshing-sound. And then the street became quiet again, leaving Idris standing alone. "I-I'm not a kid!" Idris has acquired the Sheikah Race License
