"To help my customers truly experience the charm of Elemental Shaping magic, I made some… small design choices while drafting the scrolls."
Recognizing who it was, Ethan's hope burst back to life.
First: this young lord was rich.
Second: he was on the pure-love side.
And if you rounded things up a bit, that meant they were allies. Allies supporting allies sounded perfectly reasonable.
Ethan launched into an earnest explanation.
"When I was making these, I found Ice Arrow has limits. These days, when you're out and about, you often run into situations where one Ice Arrow just isn't enough. That's when you need three. By my design, if you trigger the mana stored in three parchments at the same time, you'll unleash a seriously badass attack."
He couldn't help giving his batch a thumbs-up. He felt pretty talented in this field.
The young lord, however, looked troubled. "Uh… what exactly is a 'badass attack'?"
It was the first time he'd heard such a description.
"It's… think of it as an extra-large Ice Arrow," Ethan said quickly. "It effectively fixes the issue of a single Ice Arrow having a limited area of effect. If there's a lot of water nearby, the scroll's effect improves significantly. But don't activate three at once in a crowded place—unless you want to earn yourself a terrorist title."
Since this was his first customer—and a fellow pure-love believer—Ethan explained even more carefully.
"Ice Arrow scrolls too: if you're not trying to kill someone, don't aim at the upper body. Also keep the arrow's penetration in mind, or you might hit bystanders."
He didn't want his first customer accidentally becoming a serial killer… or a terrorist.
"Oh? That's the first time I've ever heard of scrolls that interesting." The young lord's curiosity was obvious. He picked one up and examined it carefully. "Are you sure this is an Ice Arrow scroll?"
"Guaranteed Ice Arrow," Ethan said, thumping his chest. "If it's fake, I'll pay you back tenfold!"
Behind the young lord stood a short-haired black-haired maid. Her eyes were an unusually rare green, and at that moment, those beautiful eyes were looking at Ethan with pure disgust—as if he were a con man.
"Interesting. Twenty copies. Thirty Gold Lions. Fine. I'll take all of them."
When the young lord turned to the maid, her disgust vanished—replaced instantly with an adorable, obedient smile. She held the bag and reminded him softly, "Young Master, I just noticed the shop sells Ice Arrow scrolls for only sixty Silver Antlers. If you buy ten at once, you also get to pick any other beginner spell scroll for free."
"But the shop scrolls don't have a three-in-one feature," the young lord replied, "and they can't launch a… uh, badass attack."
His learning speed was terrifying. He'd memorized the phrase immediately.
The maid's smiling eyes narrowed into crescent moons. Her pretty face looked gentle as spring.
Ethan, however, felt that spring breeze was a little… cold.
She stopped arguing. From her bag she took out a pouch, counted out thirty Gold Lions, and handed them to Ethan.
Her hands were shaking, but she was professional—at least, she maintained composure in front of her young master.
She likely heard the shopkeeper's declaration about "Elemental Shapers being outdated," and had watched Ethan get rejected and slink away.
Ethan didn't agree with most of the shopkeeper's judgment, even if the man had seven years of experience.
He spoke seriously to his customers.
"I think that owner has a deep bias against Elemental Shapers. Beginner spells aren't as worthless as he claims."
The owner had used guns and bullets as his example—saying times had changed, and gunners were now the strongest class.
Ethan made a firm promise to his first client. He intended to keep doing business in Hearthbay. He wasn't the kind of fraud who took one score and disappeared.
"The Ice Arrow scrolls I sold you should be more useful than a gun," Ethan said. "I'll be staying in Hearthbay. If you like them, you're welcome to come back to Old Sen's shop next time."
"Your shop?" The young lord looked around. It was just Ethan—no stall, no sign, not even a vendor in sight. He chuckled. "Then at least tell me your name, or a nickname. I might become a repeat customer."
"Old Sen—hm?"
Ethan almost blurted out "Old Sen's Magic Scroll Shop," but that clearly wasn't a name.
"Good question!"
Pure-love young lord indeed—straight for the soul.
What was his name again?
The black-haired maid inhaled deeply, pinched the back of her own hand hard, and forced herself to remain calm. Then, when the young lord wasn't looking, she rolled her eyes at Ethan.
A perfect eye-roll.
Honestly, even Ethan found himself suspicious now.
Obviously, he couldn't use "Ethan." Hearthbay was a nest of deceit; no one used their real name. He also couldn't use his Containment Bureau identity or codename—otherwise Ivy only needed to stroll through Hearthbay once to catch him selling scrolls behind her back.
Ivy was a good girl, a good leader—but she didn't just represent herself. She represented the entire Margaret family. From what Ethan had seen in the last two years, he had no desire to get tangled with Imperial capital nobility.
The young lord and maid waited silently for his answer.
It should've been a simple question. Ethan, however, had a thousand thoughts racing through his mind. He was terrible at naming. He couldn't just spit out something memorable and intimidating.
Until a face flashed through his mind.
A brilliant chemist—someone who had once stood at a crossroads just like him.
Same situation. Same brush with darkness. Same need to hide his real name.
Most importantly—
"Heisenberg," Ethan said. "You can call me that."
Heisenberg was Old Sen too.
"Heisenberg…" The young lord's gaze deepened. "Is that your homeland?"
"You could say that."
Ethan didn't clarify. He knew their definitions of "homeland" differed—Heisenberg was from a show he'd watched in his previous life, the place his soul truly belonged. The young lord probably thought he meant a northern coastal city of the Empire.
"I'll remember it. Farewell, then. If your Ice Arrow scrolls are really as good as you claim, I'll come back for more."
The young lord rolled the scrolls neatly and stored them in his bag. Only then did Ethan notice the bag's internal space seemed far larger than its exterior suggested. But rich people's bags were never ordinary.
For Ethan, it had been a night of violent ups and downs.
There were surprises, but the ending was good.
So…
Beginner spell scrolls had no market now?
Ethan watched the young lord and maid disappear into the crowd, thoughtful. This deal was not normal—fat sheep like that were rare. But it gave Ethan a new idea.
If Ice Arrow scrolls didn't sell…
Change the name. Change what they are.
His first customer hadn't been interested in a basic spell worth sixty Silver Antlers. What intrigued him was the three-in-one effect.
And that wasn't even Ice Arrow's limit.
Ethan could draft far more than that.
He was still standing outside the shop when his peripheral vision caught the shopkeeper.
The shopkeeper was glaring at him—disdain laced with jealousy.
Lucky punk, his mouth seemed to say.
Right.
The shopkeeper's earlier words had been a reminder.
—If you want to make money selling scrolls, learn something nobody else can do.
So what could Ethan do that other elemental drafters couldn't?
That day, the old man with seven years of experience wore the expression of someone who'd swallowed a fly. He sat behind the counter, his whole body crawling with restless ants.
He had shown Ethan enough hostility, enough contempt. He thought Ethan would come back after making money just to rub it in his face. He'd prepared for a sharp verbal battle with that brat.
If that had happened, he wouldn't even feel this miserable.
But Ethan didn't mock him.
He didn't even step back inside.
Instead, he left one final sentence behind.
"Thanks."
No anger. No sarcasm. And when he said it, Ethan's eyes held neither the shop nor the man behind the counter.
The shopkeeper understood that look.
That brat had found a way to turn trash nobody bought… into something that sold.
And the shopkeeper desperately wanted to know how.
The crawling-ants feeling only grew worse.
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