"But how did you get one hundred and twenty dirhams?"
"That was the easiest part. When we finished burying the man and reciting the hymns over his grave, I told the attendees that I owed him one hundred and twenty dirhams, so they decided to collect them for me as payment of the deceased's debts, and that's how I got these dirhams."
"Hahaha, very clever. Still, if you weren't an innocent teenage child, they wouldn't have believed you."
Two weeks passed quickly.
Shiros was extravagant with money; he even spent twenty dirhams, but he didn't buy respectable clothes. He sufficed with buying delicious food and luxurious drinks.
That night, he gathered with his companions, but they were serious with him.
"Shiros, what do you want to become in the future?"
A deep and serious question that often stirred doubt and whispers in his mind. He usually thought they were trying to find him a job.
"Me? I think I'll become a sorcerer."
The atmosphere of seriousness and formality vanished in an instant.
"Hahahaha, man, you become a sorcerer?"
Shiros got angry.
"Listen, boy, sorcerers your age are close to graduating from Babylon's special sorcery school. That means you have no chance because you've passed the specified age."
What the man said was true, but Shiros was annoyed and saw this reality as lacking logic.
"Man, why must there be a specified age anyway??"
Shiros continued: "This directly means that sorcery is restricted to children only."
One of his companions provided new information: "It's restricted to rich children because the price for one year is sixty thousand dirhams."
The boy felt dizzy: "Sixty thousand dirhams?? That's too much. Are there people whose circumstances allow them to pay this amount for a year of learning?"
"Sixty thousand, not six thousand, and for some people, this number is normal and not a big deal to them."
"How will I become what I want then?"
One of them answered: "Become a warlock."