Simon took a sip of coffee. “The author of this book was indeed the first to clearly lay out the card-making process in writing… but that’s where it ends.”
Noticing Tidris’s puzzled look, he added calmly, “Check page 90 onward. Then take a look at the books on the third shelf—you’ll see.”
Tidris flipped through it. The pages held various card-making recipes, some of which looked oddly familiar. She laid the book open on the table and pulled another from the shelf.
Simon glanced at the cover material and instantly recognized it. “This one? Just turn to page 57.”
Following his cue, Tidris opened it. Something felt off right away.
“This… aren’t some of these recipes repeated from the last book?”
She double-checked the open book. Her memory wasn’t failing her.
“Is this plagiarism?”
The thought hit her instinctively.
Simon wasn’t fazed. “Don’t jump to conclusions. Check the other books on the third shelf.”
Unconvinced, Tidris snatched three books, carried them to the table, and flipped each to the pages Simon named.
“This one has it too… and this one…”
Even if she couldn’t follow the crafting steps, she recognized the materials. After comparing them all, she was stunned—the recipe overlap had to be over fifty percent.
“Mr. Shopkeeper… why is this happening?” Tidris was utterly baffled.
“This is the state of Cardmakers today,” Simon sighed, frustration threading his voice. “Even revered senior Cardmakers clung to sectarian pride till their last breath, hoarding true recipes while publishing only overused, generic content.”
“And it’s not just recipes. That first book you opened? Supposedly written 800 years ago—and it’s still the Cardmaker Guild’s *recommended* beginner text.”
Cardmakers did have an official body: the Cardmaker Guild. Simple name. Yet many still flocked to the Royal Family or the Luminous Order. Simon had been confused by it once. Now? He was used to it.
“How can we ever revitalize Cardmaking working alongside vermin like those in the Guild?”
*Jingle jingle.*
Just as Simon was about to rant further, the doorbell chimed again.
A customer?
He set down his cup, stood with practiced ease, and flashed a professional smile.
“Welcome, honored guest—Old Li?”
A tall, spry old man stepped in—sharp brown suit, gold-rimmed monocle over his left eye, black cane in hand. Pure old-world gentleman. Behind him followed a tall young woman with a golden ponytail, clad in a crisp white uniform that radiated sharp elegance.
“I appreciate the warmth,” the old man said dryly, “but please drop that odd nickname…”
(It always made him sound like a gatekeeper.)
“No problem, Mr. Liszt,” Simon agreed readily.
The old man handed his cane to the girl. “Then let’s greet properly.”
“Long time no see, Simon. Or should I call you *Shopkeeper* now?”
“Haha, nonsense. Old Li, just stick with Simon.”
The man nodded. “This is my granddaughter, Sallya.”
Sallya gave a silent nod. Simon returned it warmly, then shot the old man a surprised look.
“Never figured a globe-trotting old timer like you had a granddaughter?”
“Ahem! What’s so strange about a man my age having one…”
Simon’s tone turned light and teasing; the old man radiated warm familiarity. They looked like lifelong friends—twenty years of neighborly chats wouldn’t raise an eyebrow.
Tidris stood frozen, utterly bewildered.
“Ah! Forgot introductions.” Simon turned to her. “Tidris, this is Old Li—Liszt. My friend. My benefactor. He guided me onto the Cardmaker path and recommended me to open this shop at Duel Academy.”
Simon kept talking, unaware Tidris had turned to stone.
*Gold-rimmed monocle. Ebony cane.* Every detail matched the legends she’d heard.
After triple-checking, her mind short-circuited.
W-w-why… why is a *Grade B Cardmaker* in Mr. Shopkeeper’s store?!
“Oh, and he’s also a Grade B Duelist from the Academy—technically your senior… Hm? Tidris?”
Simon turned. Saw the silver-haired girl frozen stiff. Waved a hand before her eyes.
The motion snapped her back. In a blur, she leaped beyond the counter and bowed deeply at ninety degrees.
“H-hello! Mr. Liszt! I’m Tidris Ursula! Meeting you is the honor of three lifetimes!”
Her words tumbled out so fast she nearly bit her tongue.
“Hehehe,” the old man chuckled. “Hello, interesting young lady. I’m Liszt—a Grade B Duelist. Don’t go mixing me up with someone else now.”
Hearing the surname sealed it. This tall, lean elder was none other than the kingdom’s legendary Cardmaker—the *World-Shaker*, Liszt Huberlein.
His story was pure legend: graduated from Duel Academy, spent first three years as a Duelist, switched to Cardmaking—and within a year, soared from dead last to top of his class. A miracle. Tidris knew fragments of his later deeds from kingdom-shaking events… but why call himself a Duelist?
She didn’t know. Liszt, recalling his own old excuse for avoiding apprentices, felt a pang of regret. Still… redemption was possible.
He placed a document on the counter. “This is an invitation to join the Cardmaker Guild. You’re alone in the Royal Capital. I hold some standing there—if you’re willing, I’ll recommend you directly as a full member.”
“Grandpa!” Sallya’s eyes widened. She started to protest—but Simon spoke first.
“The Cardmaker Guild?” He shook his head with a wry smile. “I’ll pass.”
