"In order to let my customers really experience the appeal of elemental magic, I added a few little design touches when I made these scrolls."

  The moment Ethan recognized who had stopped him, hope fred back to life.

  First, this noble scion was rich.

  Second, he belonged to the true-love camp too. Rounding up a little, that basically made them allies. And allies helping each other out was only natural, right?

  So Ethan unched into his pitch with complete sincerity.

  "While making them, I realized Ice Arrow has limits. These days, when you're out in the world, you sometimes run into situations where one Ice Arrow just isn't enough. That's exactly when you break out three scrolls at once. With my design, if you release the mana from three charged parchments together, you can unleash one hell of an attack."

  Ethan could not help giving his batch of scrolls a thumbs-up.

  He honestly felt he had real talent in this field.

  The young noble looked slightly troubled.

  "Uh... what exactly is one hell of an attack?"

  Apparently this was his first time hearing a combat technique described in those terms.

  "It means..." Ethan paused, then tried again, "You can think of it as a super-sized Ice Arrow. It makes up for the normal version's limited area of effect. If there's a rge source of water nearby, the scroll becomes much stronger. But absolutely do not activate three of them at once in a crowded pce unless you'd like to be called a terrorist."

  This was Ethan's first real customer.

  On top of that, he was one of his own people, so Ethan went out of his way to expin things carefully.

  "The same goes for a single Ice Arrow scroll. If you're not trying to kill someone, don't aim at the upper body. And always factor in the penetration. Otherwise, there's a very real chance you'll hit somebody behind them."

  He had no desire to turn his first customer into a serial killer or a terrorist by accident.

  "Oh? That's the first time I've heard a magic scroll described that way."

  The noble scion sounded genuinely interested.

  He took one of the scrolls and examined it carefully.

  "And you're sure this is really an Ice Arrow scroll?"

  "Absolutely genuine."

  Ethan thumped his own chest.

  "If it's fake, I'll pay you back tenfold."

  Standing behind the noble was the bck-haired maid.

  She had a rare pair of green eyes, and at that moment, those beautiful eyes were looking at Ethan with unfiltered disgust. She clearly considered him a fraud.

  "Interesting. Twenty scrolls. Thirty gold lions. Fine, I'll take all of them."

  When the noble turned toward his maid, the disgust vanished from her face at once.

  In its pce appeared a sweet, obedient smile as she held the travel bag in both hands and gently reminded him, "Young master, I did notice that the Ice Arrow scrolls in the shop were only sixty silver gazelles each. And if you buy ten at once, you can also pick any extra beginner elemental scroll for free."

  "Yes, but the ones in the shop don't combine three into one, do they? And they can't produce one hell of an attack."

  The noble scion learned quickly.

  He had already picked up the phrase.

  The bck-haired maid's eyes curved into a pleasant smile, and with her pretty face, she looked like a spring breeze come to life.

  But Ethan somehow felt that this particur spring breeze was a little cold.

  She didn't argue further.

  Instead, she took out a pouch, counted thirty gold lions into it, and handed it over to Ethan.

  Her hands were trembling.

  Still, she was professional. At the very least, she managed to stay composed in front of her young master. Most likely she had heard the shop owner decre that elemental casters were no longer viable in the current age, and she had also watched Ethan leave the shop in defeat after being turned away.

  Ethan disagreed with many of the owner's opinions, even if the man did have more than seven years of experience selling magic scrolls.

  So he expined seriously to the pair, "I think that owner has a pretty deep bias against elemental casters. Beginner elemental spells really aren't as bad as he makes them sound."

  When the owner had made his case, he used guns and bullets as his example. According to him, times had changed, and marksmen were now the strongest css around.

  Ethan, however, had complete confidence in what he was offering.

  He wanted to keep doing business in Hearthbay. He was not some scammer looking to make one sale and vanish.

  "The Ice Arrow scrolls I'm selling you should be more useful than a gun. I'll be staying in Hearthbay, so if you're satisfied with how they perform, please come by again next time and visit my magic scroll shop."

  "Your shop?"

  The noble looked around.

  There was no stall here, no storefront, not even a vendor's cart. Just Ethan.

  Then he joked, "In that case, at least tell me your name or nickname. I might become a repeat customer."

  "Old Eth... wait."

  Ethan had nearly blurted out Ethan's Magic Scroll Shop, but that was obviously not his name or a nickname.

  "Good question."

  As expected of the noble scion of true love, the man's questions hit straight at the soul.

  What exactly was his name supposed to be here?

  The bck-haired maid took a very deep breath and dug her nails into the back of her own hand to stay composed.

  Then, the moment her young master wasn't looking, she rolled her eyes at Ethan.

  A spectacur eye-roll.

  Frankly, Ethan couldn't even bme her.

  At that moment, even he felt suspicious.

  Obviously, he couldn't use Ethan.

  Hearthbay was full of schemes and traps. No one used their real name here. He also couldn't use his status as a Bureau investigator or any future codename. If he did, Ivy only needed to wander around Hearthbay a little before she'd realize he was secretly selling magic scrolls behind his superior's back.

  Ivy was a good person.

  A good boss too.

  But she would never represent only herself. She represented the whole Margaret family. After everything Ethan had seen these past two years, he had no desire whatsoever to get tangled up with the great nobles of the Capital.

  The noble and his maid both looked at him, waiting quietly for an answer.

  In theory, it wasn't a difficult question at all.

  And yet countless thoughts fshed through Ethan's mind. He was terrible at naming things. He couldn't just sp together some grand, memorable alias on the spot.

  Then a face surfaced in his mind.

  A brilliant chemist.

  Someone who, like Ethan, had once stood at a crossroads in life.

  The same kind of situation. The same need to confront the dark side of the world. The same need to hide behind a different name.

  And most importantly...

  "Harold. You can call me Harold."

  It was close enough.

  "Harold..."

  There was a strange note in the noble's voice.

  "Is that where you're from?"

  "In a way."

  Ethan neither confirmed nor denied it.

  He knew perfectly well they were not talking about the same thing. His own idea of home was a pce from his previous life, from the stories and shows he had once watched. The noble, on the other hand, was probably thinking of some northern coastal city in the Empire.

  "I'll remember it. Then until next time. If your Ice Arrow scrolls really are as good as you say, I'll be back."

  The noble rolled up the scrolls and tucked them into his bag.

  Only then did Ethan notice that the bag's actual storage space seemed far rger than it looked from the outside. Then again, for people this rich, even their travel bags were probably no ordinary items.

  For Ethan, it had been a night full of twists and turns.

  Despite a few unexpected setbacks, it had ended well enough.

  So...

  There really was no market for beginner spell scrolls anymore?

  He watched the noble and his maid walk away and fell into thought.

  This sale was obviously not normal. Fat sheep like that were rare. But the sale had still given Ethan a new idea.

  If Ice Arrow scrolls couldn't be sold as Ice Arrow scrolls, then he would change the name. He would turn them into something else.

  After all, his first customer had not been drawn in by a beginner spell worth sixty silver gazelles apiece. What caught his interest had been the effect of combining three at once.

  And that wasn't even the limit of what Ice Arrow could do.

  Nor was it the limit of what Ethan could inscribe.

  As it happened, Ethan was still standing outside the scroll shop.

  Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of the owner.

  The owner was gring at him too.

  There was disdain in that look, but jealousy too.

  Lucky bastard.

  That was probably what the man's mouth was saying.

  Then it hit Ethan.

  The owner's earlier words had reminded him of something important.

  If you really want to make money with magic scrolls, learn something nobody else can do.

  So then, what did Ethan know how to do that other elemental inscribers couldn't?

  That same day, the old man with seven years of experience selling magic scrolls wore the expression of someone who had swallowed a fly.

  He sat behind his counter, and every inch of him seemed to itch with agitation.

  He had shown Ethan plenty of contempt, and had not bothered to hide it. He had assumed that after making a sale, Ethan would swagger over and rub it in his face. The owner had even mentally prepared himself for a fierce war of words with the brat.

  Honestly, if that had happened, he probably wouldn't have felt half as bad as he did now.

  Because Ethan had not mocked him.

  He had not even stepped back into the shop.

  He had only left one sentence behind on his way out.

  "Thanks."

  There had been no anger in it. No sarcasm.

  And when he said it, Ethan's eyes had not even been on the shop, or on the owner sitting behind the counter.

  Seven years of sales experience told the man exactly what that look meant.

  That brat had thought of something.

  He had absolutely thought of a way to make money.

  A way to sell those garbage scrolls that should never have sold at all.

  And now the owner wanted to know what it was so badly he could hardly sit still.

  The crawling feeling under his skin was getting worse.