The midday sun threw long shadows over the dusty tilework of the small city station. The hiss of the bus doors opening broke the silence, followed by the low, idle churning of its engine.
The teacher stepped forward, his face calm but clearly worn from the past hours. Behind him, the two students kept a few steps back — both casting awkward, sidelong glances toward Jimmy, whose blindfold remained in place.
"We'll be heading back to the academy now."
Jimmy didn't speak. He simply offered a slow nod, his hands tucked into the deep pockets of his long coat.
One of the students shuffled their feet. "Um… thanks. For not, uh… y'know… exploding the ground again."
The other, more blunt, muttered, "You're seriously terrifying. But… kinda cool."
Mr. Goat gave a quiet snort, arms crossed as he leaned against the pillar beside Jimmy.
The teacher turned, gently nudging the students toward the steps of the bus. But just before climbing in, He paused and looked back once more.
"Come quickly next time. My class starts again after tomorrow."
The doors sighed shut behind him, and the bus rumbled to life, pulling away from the curb with a faint growl of effort.
Dust swirled in its wake.
.........................................
Then a dull honk and a screech of tired brakes broke the silence. A taxi rolled to a stop at the curb. It was an old yellow model with fading red letters reading "AVAILABLE," blinking unsteadily above the windshield.
Jimmy opened the back door.
"Vatican Medical Store?" Mr. Goat asked, not even looking.
Jimmy nodded once. They both stepped inside.
The driver was a cheerful, round-faced man with a scruffy beard and a wildly colourful floral shirt that made him look like he'd just stepped out of a holiday postcard. As Jimmy and Mr. Goat slid into the backseat, the man glanced up through the rear view mirror.
His eyes widened.
"Waiiit… no way!" he half-turned, one hand on the steering wheel. "Didn't you just—? I swear I just saw your match! You're that blindfolded guy, right? Didn't you win? Shouldn't you be at some fancy winner's ceremony or on a podium somewhere?"
His voice had the innocent excitement of someone meeting a celebrity — peppered with genuine curiosity and a hint of fear.
Jimmy adjusted his coat.
"Ah, about that it ended quickly. Let's go quickly."
The driver blinked. "O-Oh. Ohhh! Got it, got it."
A nervous laugh escaped him. "You're one of those champions, huh? Real low-profile. No problem! Vatican Medical Store, coming up. I'll fly if I have to!"
He threw the gear into motion.
The taxi rolled forward, gliding through the narrow city lanes as sunlight peeked between balconies and overhanging power lines, casting golden beams that slashed across Jimmy's still face.
The driver peeked again in the mirror but chose not to ask more.
Jimmy rested his elbow against the window, face unreadable. But a faint smile tugged at one corner of his lips. And beside him, Mr. Goat simply leaned back and closed his eyes.
....................................
The sliding glass doors of the Vatican Medical Supply House parted with a faint hiss, releasing a puff of cold, medicinal air.
Inside, the place was unusually quiet for this hour—just a few clerks restocking vials, a lone customer browsing a Whisp-nutrient catalogue. The scent of disinfectant mixed with the subtle undertone of elemental reagents.
Jimmy stepped in, black coat swaying gently, his blindfold still fixed over his eyes. Behind him, Mr. Goat walked in silently—hooves clacking softly on the pristine marble floor.
It wasn't even a full minute before someone noticed.
"...Wait a sec…" one clerk muttered, glancing at the wall-mounted holo-TV. A slowed replay of the match—his match—flashed across the screen. That Water-Electric Whisp. The clone. The illusion. The silence.
Recognition hit like a lightning bolt.
"Isn't that him…?"
Another employee peeked from the back, squinting. "That's the one who pulled that insane counter twist. What's he doing here? Shouldn't he be, I dunno… at some winner's reception?"
Jimmy didn't speak. He reached for his phone, tapped quickly, then held it up for the lead shopkeeper to read:
"Is this a supplier store? The kind that delivers to other outlets?"
The shopkeeper blinked. His posture shifted — a little straighter now. "Yes, sir. This is a Tier-4 medical outlet. Direct Nexus-linked. What are you looking for?"
Jimmy typed again.
"Potions. Electric. Fire. Thunder. Ice. Water. A-grade. 8 each."
The man nodded. "Yes, yes. We carry all those elements. Up to A-grade—"
Jimmy tapped once more:
"Anything above A?"
That question brought a shift in the man's smile. "Ah… those are reserved. S-Class and above need elite registry or guild confirmation. Or… lineage tier clearance."
Jimmy gave a small nod of understanding. No complaints. No reaction. Just another line of text:
"Then two of each A-grade. Add one Wind Potion—coupon covered."
The shopkeeper began inputting the order. "We'll add that. You also have a thirty-day Whisp meal pack available to claim. It can be redeemed from any Nexus node." Jimmy asked "any incubator...?"
The shopkeeper asked with more respect now. "We have the WhispCore Sigma 2X — just released. Advanced rotation, triple-temperature sync."
Jimmy nodded.
The man hesitated, glancing at his colleague, then leaned in with lowered voice. "Sir… do you know how much that costs?"
Jimmy didn't flinch. Instead, he slid a folded slip of paper across the counter.
The man unfolded it.
And froze.
His lips parted, eyes reading the figure twice—then a third time. The weight of zeroes sat heavy in the silence.
One of the younger employees peeked from behind a shelf and whispered, "He's just a kid… he can't possibly—"
The shopkeeper's hand trembled slightly as he set the note aside. "W-we'll prepare everything immediately. Please wait."
Jimmy typed again:
"Also: training devices. One running module. Weighted harness. Stabilizer bands. Motion corrector. Deliver to this address."
He passed over a small black card with a silver address code. The shopkeeper copied it without question.
Jimmy then turned toward the food and supply aisle. His pace was calm but precise.
He picked:
Two extra A-grade Fire Potions — these, he pocketed personally.
A bundle of fiber-rich fruits and supplement blocks.
A sealed box of cinnamon milk bars — Peeko's favorite.
He added them to the delivery manifest with a tap. At the counter, he typed one final line:
"Reserve S-grade potions. Notify me once they arrive."
"Yes, sir. Under your name. We'll flag them."
Jimmy took the receipt with a nod.
As he turned to go, one of the younger clerks finally spoke — almost laughing in disbelief.
"Have a good day, sir… and, uh… congrats on the win!"
Jimmy didn't reply.
Back outside, Cars murmured. Pigeons fluttered over cathedral rooftops.
Jimmy and Mr. Goat re-entered the same black taxi that had brought them.
This time, the driver didn't ask a word.
Inside Jimmy's bag, the two Fire Potions clinked gently with every bump on the road. From his bag, the scent of cinnamon and clean fruit rose like a silent promise.
.......................................................
The taxi rolled to a quiet stop just outside the home after 30 min.
Jimmy stepped out silently, adjusting his coat, while Mr. Goat moved forward to settle the fare. No words were exchanged—just a mutual nod to the driver who, still shaken by the boy's presence, gave them a respectful wave before driving off.
As the iron gate creaked open and the two stepped into the courtyard, it seemed like the calm would hold.
But it didn't.
POOF!
A loud burst echoed through the air as confetti exploded into the sky—colourful paper bits raining down from a cylinder-shaped party popper.
Jimmy flinched back slightly, blinking in surprise.
From the other side of the yard, a man with a big belly and a mischievous grin marched toward them, hands proudly on his hips.
"Haha! Well done, boy! What a clever twist you pulled in that match! I just knew you'd win it, deep down I did!"
Mr. Goat sighed. "Another funny scene is coming..."
Just then, a young boy—his son—appeared beside him, arms folded and one brow raised.
"Didn't you say he was useless before the match? You're changing your tone faster than a Whisp switches forms."
The man froze. "H-Hey! Don't listen to this little brat's nonsense! From the start—from the heart—I knew he'd win! Now come inside, come, come!"
Jimmy tilted his head, amused, and tapped on his mobile, showing the message to Mr. Goat:
"What about him?"
He gave a short smile. "Go up to your room. You'll understand."
Jimmy climbed the wooden stairs quickly with some bad thoughts.
He quickly entered and saw...
The room was cloaked in darkness—only a single flickering flame lit the space. The flame burned in hues of orange and soft blue.
Jimmy walked closer and opened the window to let the rays of sunlight in.
On the floor, curled up beside the flame, was a small creature with burnt feather-like fur and soft ears tucked back.
Peeko. Fast asleep.
Suddenly, Mr. Goat's brother voice came from behind. "When I said you lost, he started to cry. But when he saw you win… he stopped. Just sat like that, watching the screen."
Jimmy knelt down, gently cradling Peeko's soft face. His fingers moved across his cheeks, tugging them slightly.
"Wakey wakey… Luna ate all the food."
Peeko's eyes fluttered open. For a moment, he blinked.
Then—
"DUMTA DUMTA—WHEN DID YOU COME?!"
He shot up in a blur of blue-orange feathers and flames, leaping from Jimmy's arms and bouncing across the bed like a rubber ball. His laughter filled the room, echoing off the walls.
Jimmy reached out to catch him—but Peeko blinked and vanished with a burst of tiny sparks.
"Dum dum!" he cackled from the ceiling fan. "Everything's OK!"
Jimmy smiled, his shoulders finally relaxing.
He caught him mid-air on the next leap, holding him close. "Good boy," he whispered softly. "Did you enjoy the loneliness? Didn't I ask you not to stay here like a big kid?"
Peeko huffed, turning his head to the side. "Next time… I'll stay."
Jimmy gave a rare silent laugh, rubbing his knuckle against Peeko's head. "Wanna bath?"
Peeko's ears perked. He nodded quickly.
Jimmy stood, made a sign.
SHHHHH!
In a blink, the room shimmered as Luna phased in beside them, her mane trailing with a gentle spark of mist. Her presence lit up the space.
Peeko gasped. "Loser. If I was there, I will burst them out." Luna stared at him in evil smile.
And in an instant, the small house filled with joy, warm water, steam.
...........................................................
The afternoon sun dipped lower, its light now warmer, slanting gold through the open windows. The silence in the room was soft—broken only by the distant sound of utensils clinking and the hum of ceiling fans spinning lazily.
After nearly an hour of rest, Jimmy finally stood from the edge of the bed, brushing his coat sleeves. He turned to the others in the hallway.
"I'll head back today," he said calmly. His voice was quiet but certain. "Mr. Goat… are you coming?"
Before the older man could speak, his younger brother raised both hands in protest. "Oyy! What's the hurry? Just stay tonight! We'll do a proper party. You've earned it, champ!"
Jimmy offered a polite nod but didn't change his mind. "There are things waiting. Unfinished business."
Mr. Goat grunted, chewing slowly on his toothpick before finally speaking. "You go ahead. Tell Lisa I'll return the day after tomorrow. I've got something to sort out here first. Pack your things. Don't forget anything."
With a faint dip of his head, he turned and made his way back to his room.
The moment he stepped in, chaos greeted him.
Peeko and Luna were locked in a silent war over the last bite of their shared meal — neither willing to yield. Luna's tail was sparking, her sleek form half-curled in defence. Peeko's cheeks puffed with exaggerated anger, wings fluttering comically.
Before the storm could escalate, Jimmy's hand flashed forward — snatching the food with perfect timing.
Both Whisps froze.
Without a word, he split the remaining bite exactly in two. He handed each piece to them with a mock-stern look.
Then — a light tap on both their heads.
Luna huffed.
Peeko rubbed his forehead, muttering something about "DUMTA."
Jimmy didn't reply. He only smirked and began sorting his things — silent, practiced. Folding. Sealing. Setting aside. One by one, every item found its place.
After a short while, he stood before Luna and Peeko. They looked up, sensing the shift in atmosphere.
Jimmy closed his eyes briefly — and with a faint mental pulse, both Whisps shimmered into light, drawn back into the safety of his Mind's Garden.
The room fell quiet once more.
Fifteen minutes later, Jimmy stepped outside, bag over shoulder. Mr. Goat was already waiting near the gate, hands in his pockets, posture relaxed but watchful.
He walked beside Jimmy down the lane toward the bus station. Neither spoke.
When they reached the station, the 4 o'clock sun burned gently above, casting long shadows across the pavement.
Mr. Goat clapped Jimmy's back once. "Take care. Watch your step."
Jimmy nodded again.
Mr. Goat remained on the curb, watching until the vehicle vanished into the city road.
Only then did he turn back toward home — toothpick between his teeth.