"Don't slack off!"

"Such laxity... Haven't you finished the new assignment yet!?"

"You're a Sage's seed!"

"Don't disgrace the family!"

"Start with a month of confinement."

"Don't let anyone down."

"You have responsibilities, duties—you must complete what's required!"

"No excuses!"

...

...

...

...

"... Damn it!"

The first thing Sedrion heard upon waking was her own curse.

She rubbed her sleepy eyes, smoothed her messy hair, and sat up. The chilly morning air felt damp, clinging to her skin like tiny droplets—utterly annoying.

She stretched. Dawn light streamed through the window, bathing her naked body. Her pale skin glowed with a bluish hue—beautiful yet dangerous. She’d long grown used to sleeping naked. Not for health reasons. Just because clothes in bed were annoying.

"Sedrion!!!! Trouble!!!!"

Thud! The door burst open. Osam rushed in, sweating heavily—

"Big trouble! Lijin he—Huh? Uh? You... just woke up? I... didn’t mean to look... Sorry... Or thanks? A-anyway..."

"You have three seconds to run before I gouge out your eyes."

"S-s-sorry!!!!!!"

One minute later—

"Huh? That idiot dwarf is dead? And Butcher too?"

Even Sedrion was shocked by this news.

"Yes! Butcher was found dead in the square before the Lord’s Mansion! Investigation teams, mansion staff, thousands of onlookers—all saw his body!"

"But what’s that got to do with the dwarf?"

"The Great Secret Treasure!!!"

"... Huh?"

"The Great Secret Treasure! News has spread across Cassol! Two were found on Butcher’s corpse! A third was discovered nearby! Lijin grabbed it first—then a Battle Spirit ambushed and killed him instantly!"

"Wait, wait—I’m lost! Three? Three Great Secret Treasures? What the hell?"

"Who knows! But more than three have appeared. Most seem fake—only one’s real! Cassol’s a battlefield now! Everyone’s gone crazy fighting over them!"

"... So Cassol’s flooded with fake Great Secret Treasures? Counterfeiting ownerless ones—is that even possible? Could it be... the Artisan Sage!?"

Sedrion’s eyes widened.

"Artisan Sage... I’ve heard of him. A Sage from three hundred years ago?" Osam recalled carefully.

"Four hundred. Artisan Sage Zelanov. Back then, he rivaled the pre-fall Medical Sage Astroth. Astroth mastered medical alchemy. Zelanov specialized in magitech."

"You know so much... But what’s his connection?"

"Huge! Zelanov published most work young and middle-aged. His later years? Almost nothing. Few know he devoted them entirely to... researching the Great Secret Treasure."

"What!?"

"Stop overreacting. He was a Sage. If serious, getting an ownerless Great Secret Treasure wasn’t impossible. He defined many of its known properties."

"So those counterfeits..."

"His masterpieces," Sedrion waved impatiently. "His dream was ‘artificially creating the Great Secret Treasure.’ He made test fakes. They couldn’t transform desires—but looked identical. Even magical fluctuations matched perfectly..."

Sedrion fell silent, thinking.

Only one real Great Secret Treasure existed. Many fakes.

Why were fakes in Cassol?

They couldn’t have been there from the start.

Was someone spreading them deliberately?

Why?

"Wait... maybe the real one was already found."

Sedrion frowned deeply.

"Found?"

"Is your head full of mush? The finder likely prepared fakes to cause chaos. Planted them in the city. Lured crowds into frenzy while slipping away with the real treasure..."

"Now that you say it... very possible."

"Just my guess. But highly likely."

...

Hearing this, everyone pondered.

Osam spoke suddenly: "Miss Sedrion, you know... so much."

"What’s that mean? Sarcasm?"

"Uh, no! Misunderstanding!" Osam backtracked fast. "I meant—you’re incredibly knowledgeable! I admire you!"

"Cut the flattery. Just things I had to remember... Let’s plan our next move."

Sedrion sat on the sofa, legs crossed, stretching.

"First: Butcher’s murder hurts me. I fought him three days ago. I’ll be a prime suspect. Second: Cassol’s an arena now. Everyone’s like wild dogs, hunting every clue. No winner soon. Third: Those idiot investigation teams are in trouble. Know why?"

She glanced at Osam. He thought briefly.

"The Magic Trace Samples... Only they hold them!"

"Exactly!"

Zelanov’s fakes matched real Great Secret Treasures in looks and magic. Impossible to tell apart from records.

So how to verify?

Use it? Let it transform your desire?

Impossible.

Zelanov’s research and history prove: anyone transforming it needs a "transformation period."

Not instant. Requires heavy prep. Takes about a week from start to finish.

Verifying this way means waiting a week. By then, the real treasure’s long gone.

Only one solution.

The three investigation teams hold three Magic Trace Samples.

Fakes copy looks and magic. But the Magic Trace—like a fingerprint—is uncopyable.

Compare samples. Instant results.

Zelanov noted rare individuals might stabilize it instantly. But theoretical. Never seen. Ignore it.

Thus,

The three teams are strongest in this hunt.

And bait for everyone.

"—So decided! We rest. Avoid the chaos. Wait outside the city! Fewer teams left means higher chance of finding the real one. Then we strike. Why rush?"

"Huh!?"

"Why so surprised?"

"Well... with your personality, Miss Sedrion, I thought you’d—"

"Idiot. I love excitement. But hate wasted effort. Obvious, right?"