“What types of spellbooks do you have for sale?” Suran asked.
For special items like spellbooks, customers couldn’t request by personal need—they could only ask what the seller had in stock. Ordinary mages found this frustrating. Imagine a fire-attribute mage facing shelves full of non-fire spellbooks. Just the thought was irritating.
But Lyasis didn’t care. Born with immense magical power, she’d given nearly all of it to Suran. Yet even with her weakened body, the magic she retained was more than enough to master any other school of magic. She was utterly unparticular—simply waiting to see what the White Glove shopkeeper would offer.
“We carry nearly every type,” the White Glove replied, “but most are incomplete. I hope you won’t mind.”
*Incomplete* meant missing pages, or only the first volume without the sequel. For high-tier spells requiring prerequisite chants, losing even one line made the entire incantation unusable.
“The complete ones were bought long ago. Only the flawed remain,” Lyasis remarked.
“Exactly,” the White Glove answered. “Few powerful mages have visited lately. Otherwise, these wouldn’t still be here.”
“Can skilled mages deduce the missing formulas from experience?” Suran asked.
“Naturally! The great Archmage Ohama has already ‘completed’ one hundred ancient spellbooks of formidable magic.” The White Glove traced glowing words in the air, pride practically radiating from its stitches. “You see me because my master—Aland, Archmage Ohama’s final disciple—separated me and granted me consciousness. This miracle comes from a spell recorded in one of those ‘completed’ tomes~”
“I see,” Suran murmured politely.
Though silent, the glove’s pride was unmistakable—how often it name-dropped the Archmage and its master. If it could speak, its tone would’ve been smugly boastful.
“Let’s see them sorted by price,” Suran suggested. “Lowest to highest, please.”
“Right away~”
The White Glove drifted to the towering shelf, pulling spellbooks one by one onto the counter.
“These are our lowest-priced selections. I’ll label each now.” It inscribed titles and prices neatly:
“‘Chanting Commands Compendium: Daily Skills Volume’—50 silver coins.”
“‘Mage’s Basic Flight Manual’—50 silver coins.”
“‘Apprentice’s Grimoire’—50 silver coins.”
Suran scanned them. Basic life-skill guides, yet each cost nearly a week’s living expenses for her and Lyasis. Not quite worth it… but her gaze locked onto the thickest one—the *Apprentice’s Grimoire*. Ancient, worn, humming with quiet history.
“I highly recommend this *Apprentice’s Grimoire*,” the White Glove added, as if reading her mind. “Penned by a famed elder mage during his academy apprenticeship. Packed with foundational knowledge—ideal for beginners. Master these theories, and any magic path becomes accessible later.”
“So… it covers fundamentals for *all* magic types?” Suran lifted it, testing its weight. “I see. Comprehensiveness justifies the price. But to me… it’s a bit of a ‘ji-lei’.”
“…Did you just say a new term?” the glove wrote.
“Don’t worry about it.” Suran’s tone stayed calm. “Why hasn’t this excellent, detailed notebook sold?”
“Too expensive? Not worth it?”
“It *is* worth it. But hard to sell. Only geniuses destined to become ‘Omnimancers’ need *all* foundational theories. Most mages pick one path—the rest is excess.”
“Ah.” The White Glove paused. “No wonder several youths picked it up… then set it down.”
“Exactly. They won’t pay for unused knowledge. True ‘Omnimancer’ talents? Already in academies.” Suran smiled faintly. “Split this notebook by category, lower the price per volume—it’d vanish overnight.”
“Impossible.” The glove refused instantly. “Its value lies in its *wholeness*. I’m no merchant—just a conduit. Every predecessor’s work deserves respect. I won’t dismantle it.”
“You have principle. Then hear my proposal,” Suran said. “Discount this *Apprentice’s Grimoire*… and I’ll buy it.”
“Oh? You’ll take it?” The White Glove perked up. It cherished this tome—and now admired Suran’s eye.
“I’m considering it,” Suran glanced at Lyasis with a soft smile, “because my young mistress has absolute potential to become an ‘Omnimancer’.” With Lyasis’s innate power and this grimoire’s foundation, any future spellbook would be within reach.
“Maid,” the glove wrote accusingly, “so you *were* setting me up! First: ‘Most mages need only one path.’ Then: ‘True geniuses won’t shop here.’ Finally—reveal *her* talent—to pressure me into discounting?” It halted… then flipped completely. “Brilliant tactic! I accept your ploy! This *Apprentice’s Grimoire*—yours, free of charge!!”
