Volume 01, Chapter 19

  A Picture

  André and I step out of the [E]-ranked Stargate, its swirling pink portal flickering behind us.

  The moment we emerge, a crowd of Magicians turns toward us, their eyes immediately locking onto me. I catch the mix of curiosity, judgment, and disdain in their stares.

  “There goes the Manaless kid,” someone mutters, loud enough for me to hear. “Looks like he had a rough time.”

  “Check out his shoulder,” another adds.

  “Guess he’s finally learning that Stargates aren’t child’s play. He should give up on those impossible dreams of his.”

  The remarks cut deep, but I force myself to keep walking, my face a mask of indifference. André, walking beside me, spares them a single glance, his expression unreadable but his presence commanding enough to silence any further comments.

  A shiver runs through me as the cool air bites at my bare skin. André’s oversized jacket, draped over my shoulders, does little to keep out the chill, but it’s better than nothing.

  Sling!

  The sudden sound pulls my attention back toward the Stargate. Red runes flare to life along its edges, glowing like molten steel as the portal seals itself shut with a mechanical hum. It’s a reminder of how close we were to being trapped in that otherworldly place.

  I linger for a moment, watching the Stargate’s glow fade, before hurrying to catch up with André.

  The reception area is a stark contrast to the chaos of the battlefield—a bustling hub filled with Magicians exchanging stories, equipment, and loot. The same receptionist who checked us in greets us with a warm smile, her polished demeanor unaffected by the crowd.

  “And how was your adventure through the Stargate?” she asks, her eyes flicking briefly to me before settling on André.

  “It was a decent challenge for Dominic,” André replies, pulling out his wallet with practiced ease. “How much do we owe for the pleasure?”

  “For an [E]-ranked Stargate, that’ll be 50,000 Camilliums,” she says, her tone professional.

  André nods and hands over a sleek card embedded with runes. Then, glancing at me, he says, “Dominic, why don’t you wait outside while I settle the bill?”

  His voice is casual, but something in his tone suggests he wants a moment alone. I hesitate for a heartbeat, unsure, but decide there’s no harm in stepping out.

  “Sure,” I say, adjusting his jacket over my shoulders as I head for the exit.

  As I turn to leave, a familiar voice catches my attention. Célestin engaged in a lively conversation, stands not far away, his signature katana conspicuously absent. Beside him, I spot a stunning girl with vibrant purple hair and matching eyes, her every step exuding grace and poise.

  Oh great. Violette Florelle.

  In A Magician's Path, she’s entangled in a complicated love triangle with Lumi and Célestin. She’s the one who ultimately doesn’t get chosen, but that’s not what concerns me right now. Like the other two, she attracts chaos wherever she goes, leaving collateral damage in her wake.

  Determined to avoid interaction, I pull André’s oversized jacket tighter around me, practically vanishing inside its folds. Sure, I probably look ridiculous, but if it keeps them from noticing me, it’s worth it. I lower my head and walk past them, stealing a glance.

  They’re laughing, Célestin animatedly gesturing while Violette listens with a soft smile. Their effortless camaraderie makes me cringe. Yeah, I’m not getting involved in that.

  “Looks like my makeshift disguise did the trick,” I mutter under my breath as I finally reach the grand archway of the Stargate complex.

  Leaning against the cool stone wall, I let out a sigh of relief, grateful to have avoided an unnecessary encounter.

  -Clank!

  “Huh?” I mutter.

  The sound snaps me out of my thoughts. Glancing down, I see it: a katana lying on the ground, its black blade gleaming faintly in the light. The handle, adorned with intricate gold accents forming a dragon, is unmistakable.

  Célestin’s weapon.

  My pulse quickens. Nope. Nope. Nope. I need to leave. Right now. If he’s noticed it’s missing, he’ll look for it, and I’ll be right in the crosshairs.

  “Oh, my katana! Thank you so much!”

  Darn it.

  I barely have time to think before Célestin’s voice reaches me, his figure already approaching. He’s smiling—a warm, genuine smile—and I hate how disarming it is.

  “I haven’t done anything yet,” I mutter, but it’s too late. He’s thanking me as if I’d just saved his life.

  Célestin bends to retrieve his weapon, cradling it like a prized possession. “Once again, thank you for finding my katana.”

  “No problem,” I reply curtly, keeping my expression neutral.

  I’m aiming for forgettable—bland enough that he’ll peg me as a quiet guy who doesn’t like talking. Hopefully, he’ll lose interest and leave me alone.

  “So, uh… what’s your—”

  “Célestie, did you find it?”

  Violette’s voice cuts through the conversation like a knife. She’s heading straight for us, her vibrant hair catching the light in a way that seems unfairly attention-grabbing.

  Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.

  “Yes, all thanks to him,” Célestin says cheerfully, gesturing toward me.

  Violette turns her gaze to me, her expression unreadable momentarily before her lips curve into a sweet smile. “Thank you for helping Célestie find his katana.”

  Before I can respond, she grabs his hand. “Let’s go, Célestie,” she says, her tone leaving no room for argument.

  “Ah, wait—I haven’t asked for his—”

  “We have training to do,” she interrupts smoothly, already tugging him away.

  I stand frozen, watching as she drags him off, her grip firm despite her gentle demeanor. Célestin throws a glance over his shoulder, but Violette doesn’t slow down.

  As they disappear into the crowd, I reflect on Violette’s character in A Magician's Path. On the surface, she’s all grace and kindness, her soft-spoken nature earning her the admiration of many. But beneath that fa?ade lies a sharper edge.

  Born into a family of Magician supremacists, Violette was raised to believe that Camille doesn’t bless the Manaless because they’re unworthy of life. Her beliefs are deeply ingrained, and her actions often reflect them.

  According to the web novel, Célestin’s confrontation with her sparks a sudden, dramatic shift in her worldview. But even now, knowing the story’s progression, I find it hard to buy into the idea of such a rapid transformation. People don’t change overnight—not without consequences.

  I pull André’s jacket tighter around me, sighing as I turn away. Whatever trouble they’re wrapped up in, I’m determined to stay far, far out of it.

  "Oh, I forgot about that. Thanks, System."

  The reminder snaps me out of my thoughts. With the 50 stat points in hand, I feel a flicker of excitement. Time to see how I’m progressing.

  "System, show me Stats."

  Fifty points. That’s enough to make a tangible difference.

  "System, add 12.5 points to Strength, Endurance, Agility, and Speed."

  The adjustments are immediate. My body feels lighter, my movements more fluid. Even the lingering aches from the fight seem more manageable.

  "Dominic, there you are."

  I glance up to see André approaching, his presence steady and reassuring. His eyes reflect something I rarely see directed at me—genuine pride.

  “Dominic, I’m pretty sure I’ve said this before, but I’m proud of you.”

  Before I can reply, he reaches out and pats my head gently.

  The gesture is so simple, so unassuming, but it unearths something buried deep within me.

  A memory from my old life.

  My father, his voice warm and full of pride as he praised my academic achievements:

  "Hey, I’m proud of you; keep it up!"

  The memory crashes over me like a wave, overwhelming and bittersweet. The weight of what I’ve lost—my family, my old life—hits me with an intensity I wasn’t prepared for.

  “Dominic, are you okay?”

  André’s voice pulls me back to the present. Concern creases his face as he grips my shoulders, his steady hands anchoring me.

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  Tears spill down my cheeks before I can stop them, silent and unstoppable. The grief, the nostalgia—it all pours out in that moment, no matter how hard I try to keep it in.

  Embarrassed, I hastily wipe the tears away and force a shaky smile. “Don’t worry, Dad. I’m just… happy to have raided a Stargate.”

  The lie tastes bitter, but I hope it’s enough to ease his worry.

  André’s brows furrow, his eyes still searching mine. He doesn’t seem entirely convinced, but he doesn’t press. Instead, he offers a small smile and says, “How about we buy you some new clothes to cheer you up?”

  The suggestion takes me by surprise. Clothes? Normally, I wouldn’t care about something so trivial, but André’s effort to lift my spirits warms my heart.

  “Sure, Dad,” I reply softly.

  The System’s notification appears, adding a playful twist to André’s suggestion. It’s a distraction, yes, but a welcome one.

  “Nice! Let’s go to Avenue de l’Aurore,” André says, his voice brightening at the idea. “They have the best clothing in Verdant Haven.”

  The name sparks a flicker of recognition. Avenue de l’Aurore.

  That’s where Célestin took Lumi on a date in A Magician’s Path, a scene vividly described in the novel. The memory brings a small, genuine smile to my face.

  For the first time since stepping out of the Stargate, the world feels just a little lighter. Despite the challenges, the whispers, and the lingering ache in my heart, I’m reminded of the life I’ve been thrust into—complex, demanding, and full of unexpected moments like this.

  And for now, that’s enough.

  ════ ?★? ════

  André and I stroll down the bustling Avenue de l’Aurore, a vibrant artery of life in Verdant Haven. The avenue pulses with energy—shops brimming with customers, their windows filled with shimmering Magi-Tech devices, enchanted accessories, and lavish clothing. Floating vehicles hum softly as they glide past us, their anti-gravity cores emitting faint trails of iridescent light.

  Despite the dazzling sights around me, I can’t help but notice the looks cast my way.

  “Hey, look at that guy. He’s practically swimming in that huge jacket.”

  “But wait, girls—he’s actually pretty cute.”

  “True, he does have a certain charm.”

  The mixed reactions swirl around me. I keep my expression neutral, letting their words roll off my back, though I’d be lying if I said some compliments didn’t boost my ego.

  -Clap! Clap! Clap!

  Applause breaks through the avenue's din. I stop, curious, and turn toward the commotion. Across the street, a crowd has gathered, their cheers accompanied by the rhythmic clapping of hands. Roses fly through the air, landing at the feet of a tall figure bowing deeply.

  Maurice.

  He stands at the center of the crowd, dressed to impress in a dark blue tuxedo paired with a matching cape. A sleek top hat perches at an angle on his head. The ensemble, combined with his elegant bow, gives him the aura of a classic showman.

  It seems I’ve just missed one of his performances.

  “So, Maurice is back at being a showman, huh?” André’s voice pulls me from my observations.

  I glance at him, catching the faint trace of a smile on his lips. It’s fleeting, almost invisible, but it’s there—a hint of nostalgia.

  “Showman?” I ask, intrigued.

  “Yeah,” André replies, his tone light. “Maurice comes from a family of showmen. They’re famous for their flair and theatrics. I thought he’d given it up—he was never too fond of it, or so he claimed. But it looks like he’s back. I wonder what made him change his mind after all these years.”

  The revelation surprises me. In the web novel, Maurice’s background is deliberately vague. Seeing this unexpected side of him—one the novel never explored—adds another layer of intrigue to his character.

  Before I can press for more, André’s mood shifts. His soft smile hardens into a scowl, and he abruptly turns away from the scene.

  “Anyway, let’s move on. I’d rather not cross paths with that twat today.”

  The sharpness in his tone catches me off guard. André’s expression, so casual moments ago, is now tense and irritated, as if Maurice’s presence alone is enough to ruin his day.

  The sudden shift is almost comical, but it leaves me wondering. What kind of history do they share? What happened between them to reduce their relationship to sarcastic barbs and grudging acknowledgment?

  I follow André, the mystery of his connection to Maurice lingering in my thoughts. As we weave through the vibrant crowds, I find myself more curious than ever about the untold stories beneath the surface of the lives around me.

  This world—so familiar yet so different from what I remember in the novel—feels increasingly alive, its secrets waiting to be uncovered.

  ════ ?★? ════

  "Welcome to Gentilhomme Couturier, Dominic!"

  André’s voice carries an unmistakable excitement as he gestures grandly at the store entrance.

  I stand frozen, my mouth agape as I take in the sheer magnificence before me.

  The store is a masterpiece of elegance and luxury. Rows of suits in every conceivable design, high-end accessories, bespoke shoes, and designer bags line the walls in meticulous arrangements. Stylish hats perch on stands, while ties and cufflinks shimmer under the soft, golden glow of chandeliers that bathe the entire store in an ambiance of sophistication. Every item seems to exude an air of exclusivity, calling out to those who truly appreciate fine fashion.

  It’s overwhelming, to say the least. For someone like me—someone who grew up with second-hand clothes and just enough to scrape by—this feels more like stepping into a dream than reality.

  What on Earth—or rather, Sylvestria—am I doing here?

  Before I can fully process the sheer extravagance, a polished employee approaches us, their smile as refined as the surroundings.

  "Welcome back, Monsieur E?erforte. How can we assist you today?"

  The phrase welcome back catches me off guard. André… is a regular here?

  "Hello," André replies casually, as if this is the most normal thing in the world. "We’re here to pick out some suits for my son." He gestures toward me with a warm smile.

  The employee’s gaze shifts to me, their professional smile broadening.

  "Wonderful! Please, follow me."

  André strides confidently deeper into the store, chatting with the employee. For a moment, I remain rooted to the spot, still struggling to reconcile the luxury surrounding me with my own sensibilities.

  André glances back, quirking an eyebrow. "Dominic, what’s wrong?"

  I shuffle forward, lowering my voice so only he can hear me. "Dad, is it really okay to shop here?"

  His brow furrows slightly. "Why are you asking that, Dominic?"

  I hesitate, the words forming awkwardly on my tongue. "Well…"

  How do I explain this? In my previous life, luxury wasn’t even a concept—it was a fantasy. I worked multiple jobs just to keep a roof over my head and food on the table. Clothes were practical and second-hand, chosen out of necessity, not preference. Spending money on something expensive always felt wrong, even selfish.

  André looks down at me with a gentle smile, his eyes filled with affection.

  "Dominic," he says softly, "you’ve earned this. After all the hard work you put into raiding that [E]-ranked Stargate, you deserve to treat yourself. You can’t always be thrifty, you know."

  His words are sincere, and I feel the weight of his pride in me. But the mental habits of my old life are hard to shake.

  "But, Dad," I murmur, glancing around at the opulent displays, "this place seems really expensive. What if it’s… too much?"

  André chuckles, his amusement shining through his twinkling eyes.

  "Don’t worry about that, Dominic," he says, waving off my concern. "I can shop here as freely as I like these days." He leans in slightly, his voice dropping conspiratorially. "I saved the owner’s life once. Let’s just say that has its perks."

  I blink in surprise. That… explains a lot. Of course, André would have a story like that.

  "Besides," he continues, his tone firm, "you’ve proven yourself today. You deserve this."

  For a moment, his words hang in the air, and I feel their weight settle in my chest. Maybe… just maybe… I can let myself enjoy this moment.

  "Alright," I say softly, taking a deep breath and trying to adjust my mindset. "I’ll give it a try."

  André places a reassuring hand on my shoulder, his pride evident in his smile. "That’s my boy. Now, let’s find you something that truly reflects who you are—a young man with courage and potential."

  I nod, letting his encouragement bolster my confidence. As we step deeper into the store, I allow myself to take in the sights with a fresh perspective. This isn’t just about luxury—it’s about recognizing how far I’ve come and allowing myself to feel worthy of something more.

  We continue through the store, weaving between displays of luxurious garments and accessories, until we stop at the center. There, embedded in the floor, is a circular glass platform. Its surface is pristine, shimmering faintly as if it holds a power waiting to be unleashed.

  The store employee turns to me with a polite smile.

  "Monsieur…?"

  “Dominic,” I reply, unsure of what to expect.

  “Monsieur Dominic, please step onto the circle.”

  Curiosity and apprehension swirl within me, but I nod and comply, stepping onto the glass platform. The surface feels cool beneath my feet, its texture oddly smooth.

  As soon as I’m fully on it, the platform comes to life.

  -Bling!

  A soft, ethereal glow emanates from beneath me, enveloping the circle in a halo of light.

  Then it begins.

  A symphony of mechanical whirrs and gentle hums fills the air. The sound is soothing yet alien as if the platform is alive. Around the store, garments and accessories stir as though guided by an unseen hand.

  I watch, mesmerized, as the items begin to converge toward me.

  First comes a sleek black vest, a crisp white dress shirt, and an elegant red tie. Next, a pair of perfectly tailored black pants and polished black shoes float toward the circle; each piece enveloped in a soft blue aura. Finally, a black fedora drifts into view, its brim curved with timeless sophistication.

  Each item hovers in place momentarily as if assessing me before gently settling onto nearby stands, ready for me to try them on.

  “Wow,” I murmur, my awe slipping out as I take in the spectacle.

  The platform seems designed to analyze and select the perfect ensemble for its occupant, blending style, practicality, and elegance. Its sheer precision is mind-boggling, and its seamless integration of magic and technology is unlike anything I’ve ever seen.

  Sylvestria continues to surprise me. Even something as mundane as shopping is transformed into an otherworldly experience.

  André chuckles softly, his arms crossed as he watches my reaction. “Impressive, isn’t it? Gentilhomme Couturier prides itself on being at the cutting edge of Magi-Tech tailoring.”

  I step off the platform, still marveling at my chosen ensemble. The fedora gleams under the chandelier light, and the crimson tie seems to catch every glimmer in the room.

  “Dominic,” André says, his voice warm and proud, “go ahead and try it on. Let’s see how you look.”

  I nod, my earlier hesitation replaced by a growing excitement. I fully embrace the experience for once, stepping toward the outfit with a faint smile.

  In Sylvestria, even the smallest moments seem extraordinary.

  ════ ?★? ════

  “Thank you for shopping with us. We hope to see you again soon!” the receptionist calls out as André and I leave the store.

  I can’t help but grin as we step back onto the lively Avenue de l’Aurore. The fresh suit feels light and comfortable, the fedora perched snugly atop my head. For the first time in a long time, I feel... presentable.

  As we walk, André suddenly stops, turning to face me with a thoughtful look.

  “Dominic, before we head home, I’d like to take a picture of you.”

  “Uhh… okay, but why?”

  Photographs aren’t something I’ve given much thought to. With all the chaos in my life lately, the idea of capturing a moment like this seems oddly out of place.

  André’s expression softens, but there’s a gravity to his gaze as he replies.

  “Photos are more than just images, Dominic. They’re a bridge to the past—a way to hold onto the moments that too quickly slip through our fingers.”

  He pauses, his words hanging in the air before continuing, his voice quieter, almost reflective.

  “One day, you’ll look back on this photo and remember how you looked but how you felt—the challenges you faced and the victories you achieved. Memories fade, but a photo can bring them back to life.”

  Woah.

  His words hit deeper than I expected, tugging at my buried emotions. Something as simple as a photograph now feels significant, a tangible way to capture fleeting moments in a world that keeps moving forward.

  “Come on,” André says, snapping me out of my thoughts. “Let’s find the perfect spot for you.”

  We wander down the avenue, eventually arriving at a long bridge. In the distance, the Tour Fleurie, a magnificent tower draped in vibrant blooms, rises against the evening sky, its petals glowing softly in the fading sunlight.

  “Dominic, stand there,” André instructs, gesturing toward a spot where the tower perfectly frames the view behind me.

  “Alright,” I say, stepping into position.

  André pulls out his Commlink, its sleek, rune-etched surface glinting in the light. He adjusts the angle, preparing for the shot.

  “Now, Dominic, give me a smile,” he says, his tone light.

  I try, but the result feels awkward and forced.

  André raises an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “What kind of smile is that? You usually smile more naturally than that.”

  Heat creeps into my cheeks as I scratch my head in embarrassment.

  “Try this,” André suggests, slipping one hand casually into his pocket while using his other to mimic a playful ‘gun’ gesture. He pairs it with an easy, genuine smile that seems almost effortless.

  I hesitate but copy his pose, my movements stiff and uncertain.

  André shakes his head, his mild disbelief giving way to a patient smile. “Well, that’ll do for now.” He lifts the Commlink again. “Hold it steady, and let’s take that photo.”

  I nod, trying to relax into the pose as much as possible.

  -Click!

  André lowers the Commlink and peers at the screen. A smile spreads across his face, warm and satisfied. “Dominic, come take a look.”

  Curious, I step closer, leaning in to see the image.

  To my surprise, the person staring back at me doesn’t look awkward or out of place. The fedora adds a touch of charm, and the suit is sharp and refined. The Tour Fleurie in the background frames the shot perfectly, enhancing the elegance of the moment.

  I… look good.

  “You look great, Dominic,” André says, his pride evident in his tone.

  Seeing myself like this, I feel a sense of accomplishment—like I’ve taken a step forward, even if it’s just a small one.

  As André continues to admire the photo, I notice the time displayed on the corner of his Commlink screen: 5:49 PM.

  “Dad, I think we should go home,” I suggest, realizing how quickly the day has flown by.

  André glances at the screen and blinks in mild surprise. “Oh, looks like we spent too much time shopping.”

  He scratches the back of his head sheepishly, his expression amusedly.

  Tucking the Commlink into his pocket, he nods decisively. “Let’s go home, shall we?”

  With that, we head back, leaving behind the bustling Avenue de l’Aurore and its myriad shops. As the sounds of the city fade into the distance, I glance at André, his steady stride and calm demeanor a constant reassurance.

  His words linger in my memory: “Memories fade, but a photo can bring them back to life.”

  Maybe one day, I’ll look back on this photo—not just to remember how I looked, but to recall how I felt. And maybe, just maybe, I’ll see it as the day I started embracing the life I’ve been given.