Hadn’t he only been gone two days? How did a trip to the Royal Capital make him feel like he’d time-traveled?

Simon was bursting with complaints.

But after a beat, he swallowed them and nodded to the bespectacled man. “Hello, may I ask your name?”

The man adjusted his glasses. “Call me Carn.”

“Carn?” Simon double-checked. A nod confirmed it.

This guy’s name doesn’t sound like he’s any pushover.

Simon had already been numbed by today’s string of coincidences.

“I run a general store next door. Drop by anytime if you’re free,” Carn said, then slipped away just like Hope—casual, as if he’d only come to say hello.

After he left, Tidelys set down her feather duster and peered curiously outside.

“Master Shopkeeper, are the new neighbors mushroom people? One popping up from the ground every day?”

“Tidelys, that’s impolite.”

“But you had that agreeing look on your face!”

Simon shrugged. “Which is why I didn’t deny it.”

Tidelys froze, expression blank.

Huh… when you put it that way…

“Alright, no more teasing.” Simon stood, ruffled her hair. “You watch the shop. I’m heading upstairs to finish my Rank B card.”

…

After leaving Simon’s card shop, Carn didn’t visit further. He returned straight to his store and descended into the basement.

At his workbench, he picked up a magic device resembling a walkie-talkie. After a pause, he murmured, “…Bishop, initial contact with the target is made.”

A long silence, then a reply crackled back: “Monitor the target’s surroundings closely. Let no rat from the Demonology Sect slip past.”

Report done, Carn returned upstairs. Stretching lazily outside his shop, he scanned the street with peripheral vision.

People bustled about—students, outsiders, adults. Anyone who entered Simon’s Card House, or even glanced inside while passing, was now on his watchlist.

Though he still resented the bishop’s fickleness, Carn lived by one rule: if you do it, do it perfectly.

To transfer to the Royal Capital, he’d trained relentlessly, becoming a Rank C Duelist before thirty.

Once, in deep winter, he waded into an icy river, using feather-light hands to hook a fish unharmed—just so the bishop could feel the thrill of the catch.

He believed every trial was the Goddess of Light’s refinement.

Now, tasked with watching Simon Drait, he’d leave no detail unchecked.

Unfortunately, his shop’s angle was terrible for surveillance.

Where could he monitor in real time?

His gaze drifted to the card shop across the street—【No.39】. Carn’s eyes lit up.

…

Days passed quietly for Simon—but his routine had flipped.

He never left the shop; Tidelys handled every errand.

Not that he wanted to slack. Every time he tried to help, she stopped him.

“Master Shopkeeper, your priority is finishing that Rank B card,” Tidelys declared firmly. “Cleaning, food runs, coffee—I’ve got it.”

Simon’s conscience prickled. “I pay you an employee’s wage, not an assistant’s. Just do your regular duties.”

“But… have you ever actually paid me?”

Simon froze.

Right.

He was basically freeloading off her.

Tidelys puffed her chest. “Since no wages were paid, doesn’t that mean I choose my tasks?”

What logic is that? Simon was stunned.

“Still,” he pressed, “give me *something* to do. Stuck inside all day—I’ll turn into a lump.”

As if reading his mind: “Well, since it’s freeloading anyway… why not freeload a little more, Master Shopkeeper?”

Simon felt utterly defeated.

Which timeline am I on?

After a few sleepless nights, had Tidelys’ IQ somehow surpassed his?

Then she added lightly, “Though… if you really want to manage things yourself—sure.”

“My days off start today.”

“Days off?”

Simon recalled their agreement. “Right—you work four, rest three.”

Her low practical exam scores meant she couldn’t skip weeks like Viana. They’d settled: rest on exam days plus one weekend day, adjust later.

Simon’s conscience twinged again.

“Go ahead. I’ll close shop while you’re gone—perfect for undisturbed work.”

Tidelys beamed. “Don’t worry! I’ll be back sharp in three days!”

*If you see me open the door in three days, you win,* Simon thought dryly.

“And this griffin egg—taking it home?” He gestured to the square incubator on the counter.

Inside lay the white-feathered griffin egg she’d won at auction. She’d bought the device and waited day and night for it to hatch.

“Hmm… leave it here,” Tidelys decided softly. “After all… it’s our child. Yours and mine.”

Simon pretended not to hear.

Ever since staying at Viana’s, even Tidelys had picked up that teasing, ambiguous way of speaking.

That flirty habit really was contagious.

…

Next morning.

“Tidelys, help me brew—” Simon yawned descending the stairs, then blinked at the empty counter. *Right. She’s on break.*

“Never mind. I’ll do it.”

No coddled life today.

He clumsily set the coffee pot on the stove, stood a moment, then walked to the door.

Time for fresh air.

He pushed the door open. Sunlight, long unseen, stung his eyes. He shielded them slightly.

Then froze.

“Morning, Boss Simon,” said Carn.

“Morning, Boss Simon,” said Alastor.

“Yo, up this early? Youth’s got spirit!” said Hope.

The three sat at a small table outside 【No.39】, playing cards in hand, faces warm with friendly surprise. Simon even spotted the jokers in Hope’s grip.

He glanced back—7 a.m.—rubbed his eyes, looked again.

Holy crap. Did I actually time-travel?