"This is..."
Following Anna's footsteps, Moen walked through the narrow, dark alleys and finally arrived in front of the small shop before him.
It was a tiny, old store, tucked away at the very end of an equally old street. In front of the shop stood an enormous tree, too large for even two people to hug its trunk. The tree's leaves were withered and yellowing, falling gently to the ground.
The shop had no name and no customers. In fact, this location was so remote that it was hard to imagine any passersby at all, let alone the existence of a shop here.
"It's quite secluded here, so..."
Anna brushed her bangs aside, her gaze resting on the old, yellowed shop sign. She spoke softly, "This is one of the few places where I can still come back, even just temporarily."
"Come back..."
Moen mulled over the phrase.
Anna stepped into the shop, her eyes sweeping the interior casually before settling on the elderly man behind the counter. It was as if he had always been there, never moving from that spot.
The old man appeared ancient—his wrinkled skin spotted with age marks. His eyes were closed, as though he were dozing, and he didn't even stir when the two of them entered the store.
"I'm back," Anna said softly.
Jingle.
Moen accidentally hit the wind chime hanging overhead. He smiled awkwardly and quickly quieted the unwanted noise.
The shop fell silent again. After a long pause, a single sound—an "Mmm"—came through the man's nose.
"Does my room still exist?" Anna asked.
Another long pause was followed by a faint "Mmm."
"Good."
Anna turned to smile at Moen, saying, "Junior, wait here. I'll go change clothes."
"Mmm... okay."
Moen, at first, reflexively replied with an "Mmm" as well but quickly changed it, feeling something was off.
"Feel free to look around," Anna said. She navigated around the clutter of items piled at the back of the shop, then ascended the creaky staircase, disappearing from Moen's sight.
Moen craned his neck, his gaze following Anna's figure until she vanished. He sighed helplessly.
"Changing clothes I can understand, but does she really need to guard against me this much? What happened to trust between people?"
However, after Anna disappeared, Moen suddenly felt an icy stillness envelop the shop, as if the atmosphere had become... stagnant.
"Why does it feel... so awkward here?"
Moen lowered his head cautiously and glanced at the old man.
The old man seemed utterly uninterested in the unfamiliar visitor, remaining in his drowsy state without even opening an eye.
Although there were many questions in his mind, Moen knew better than to interfere in this situation. Instead, he distracted himself by pretending to examine the items in the store.
This seemed to be a general goods shop.
Though small in size, the shop was packed with items—many of which were peculiar and disorganized. Moen saw implements and tools he had never encountered before, and even things like dolls resembling beautiful young girls.
He could faintly sense traces of magic emanating from these items.
"Are these all magical instruments?" Moen murmured, intrigued. The magical tools looked bizarre, unlike the standardized products sold on the market.
In other words... Were these all handcrafted by the old man?
Moen cast another cautious glance at the elderly man, who must be highly skilled to have created so many magical tools. Clearly, this was no ordinary individual.
However, as someone from Moen's background, he didn't lack for magical instruments and quickly lost interest. His gaze shifted to the other shelves.
"Huh?"
That was when Moen spotted something that caught his attention. His eyes lit up.
He reached for something conspicuously placed on the top shelf—a book.
Although it resembled a book, it was more like an album. The cover prominently featured a striking image of a beautiful young woman.
The girl on the cover had her hands clasped tightly together, her expression pure and serene, as though she were praying. However, her attire was extremely revealing—apparently a modified nun’s habit that left little to the imagination.
"Whoa..."
Moen's eyes flicked to the text printed beside the cover, and his hand almost trembled, nearly dropping the album.
"S-Saintess’s Photo Collection? This is so bold?!"
As the son of the Campbell Duke, Moen had seen portraits of several Saintesses, and he could vaguely tell that the girl on the cover greatly resembled a Saintess from the Life Church.
Although he knew full well this couldn’t possibly be the actual Saintess, the similarity alone stirred a guilty, forbidden thrill.
Gulping, Moen subconsciously started to open the album—
"Is this what you do while waiting for your girlfriend to change—sneaking peeks at risque magazines? If she steps away for a while in the future, are you going to start juggling several relationships at once?"
Moen's hands froze in midair. Slowly, he turned his head, realizing the old man had somehow opened his murky eyes without him noticing. Those eyes were trained on him, calmly but intently.
For reasons he couldn't explain—although he'd never met this old man—Moen felt an overwhelming sense of guilt, as though he'd been caught stealing fish from someone else’s pond.
"I-I wasn’t flipping through anything inappropriate! I was just curious about how Saintess from various generations looked, that's all!"
Awkwardly laughing, Moen quietly returned the Saintess' photo collection to its spot.
"And besides, senior and I aren’t in that kind of relationship yet. You’ve misunderstood."
"Is that so? In the past, she never brought a man here," the elderly man replied impassively.
"In the past? She came back here before?"
The words "past" and "came back" caught Moen's attention. His suspicions grew more concrete, making his heart beat faster as he nervously swallowed and looked at the old man.
"Could you possibly be... senior's—"
"I'm just a lonely old man," the elderly man cut him off, gesturing for Moen to come over. "Hold out your hand."
"O-okay..."
Without arguing, Moen extended his arm and allowed the old man's dry, branch-like palm to rest on his wrist.
The moment they made contact, Moen felt an intense sense of being scrutinized, as though every part of him was laid bare before the old man's eyes.
His heart skipped several beats; only now did Moen realize that this elder might far exceed his comprehension in strength. If the man kept probing deeper—if he were like Professor Mela in that way...
Fortunately, it seemed the elder wasn’t delving as deeply as Mela had—or perhaps it was an entirely different situation. The old man didn’t appear to notice anything unusual about Moen.
"So, you're just a second-tier warrior at best, with laughably poor magical skills. Your potential isn’t bad, but it seems you’re not yet a match for my brat," the old man remarked as he released Moen’s hand. He cast a brief glance at Moen's face, then added, "You’re good-looking enough. Is that why Anna is keeping you around as her pretty boy?"
"Please! I’m not a kept man!"
Moen was furious at the insinuation.
As the heir to a duke, he was the type to have others under his patronage, never the other way around!
Though being supported by his senior sounded oddly appealing...
No, no! He had to stay strong—he was determined to stand his ground and take the lead in any relationship. There's no way he’d fall so easily!
"Sir, what exactly are you trying to do here?" Moen forced a polite smile while asking.
"Nothing," the old man said, lifting his eyelids just enough to take another long look at Moen. He added cryptically, "I just wanted to see what kind of person the girl had chosen to bring home."
"I’ve said, I’m not a—"
"But for you to even show up here, at least you’ve got guts," the old man interrupted. "Not bad for the name of Campbell."
"Huh?"
Moen froze.
He knows about my background?
And the way he phrased it... What does he mean?
Moen had hundreds of questions swirling in his head, but before he could articulate any of them, the old man’s eyes closed again, leaving him wholly unresponsive.
"If that’s the case... then struggle just a little longer," the old man's feathery, aged voice seemed to hover, ghostlike, around Moen's ears.
"I’ll buy you both some time before the moment really show."
