*Pfft… Hahaha.*
After the waiter left, Sallya finally lost control. Her laughter shook her shoulders as she wiped away tears, eyes flicking to the oversized wine glass brimming with orange juice before Simon.
“Did you pull some shady stunt here before?”
“Just… amusing misunderstandings,” Simon replied, forcing calmness into his tone.
“If it was a misunderstanding, why not clear it up?” Sallya watched him, amusement dancing in her eyes.
Simon broke into a cold sweat. “Uh… I respect their right to stay blissfully ignorant.”
He’d rather drink orange juice for life than explain to the waiter: *“I wasn’t drunk—I was provoked by a wicked woman.”*
Saying that would’ve ended his campus card shop career on the spot.
After the lighthearted farce, they enjoyed a lavish dinner.
Old Liszt was the dependable type—he ordered without hesitation.
Simon, who’d barely left his shop all day and only nibbled a slice of bread earlier, ate with zero restraint, aiming squarely to bankrupt Old Liszt.
Full and content, casual chatter followed.
Liszt had shed his ornate accessories and monocle, now resembling an ordinary elder steering the conversation.
“What’s your plan after we head back?”
Simon gazed at the ceiling. “Sleep first. Tomorrow? I’ll follow your lead, Old Liszt—ask the Academy if they’ll take me in.”
He sighed. “After your warning, I feel the pressure.”
Breaking the Order’s monopoly clearly required allies. He’d foolishly dreamed of quietly chipping away at the Luminous Order while living peacefully.
Liszt swirled his glass. “Blame your two Grade B follower cards—each more groundbreaking than the last.”
“The Ghoul Colossus forged a banish zone, restoring face to persecuted factions like the Demonology Sect. The Ghoul Shepherd? It’s shattering the Order’s rule-defining authority.”
Hearing “Grade B cards,” Sallya locked eyes on Simon, a trace of resentment in her gaze.
“Why didn’t you mention these cards last time? Keeping secrets from us?”
Slightly tipsy like her grandfather, her emotions ran visibly high.
“You’re overthinking it. If I could’ve shown off to Old Liszt, I would’ve,” Simon shot back, mischief flashing.
“Honestly, Old Liszt inspired these cards. Without his reminder, I’d never have gone to that auction.”
Sallya processed his words—and instantly sobered.
“You… you made both cards in under a week?!”
“What about design?! You didn’t improvise the concepts too?!”
Simon feigned innocence. “How could I plan ahead? I didn’t know necromancy materials would appear.”
His mind held countless card effects from a past life. Spot a material, and he’d stitch together a compatible effect in moments. His material analysis sharpened that instinct. Combined, he crafted cards faster than many Grade B Cardmakers.
Liszt sipped tea silently. Unsurprised. He’d long known Simon’s monstrous talent.
“This… this can’t be,” Sallya whispered, utterly deflated.
Just a week ago, she’d felt a flicker of rivalry—now crushed.
“By the way,” Simon added casually—though deliberately—“if you want the recipes for these cards, I’ll give them to you.”
A gesture of gratitude. He recalled the mental notification about the banish effect—vague, stating only that cards were removed from the duel. Enough for Duelists, useless for Cardmakers. With the Ghoul Colossus recipe, they’d skip years of trial.
To his surprise, both shook their heads firmly.
“No. I haven’t surrendered yet,” Sallya said, tossing golden hair over her shoulder.
Her competitive fire had dimmed, but her drive to catch up burned brighter. She wouldn’t yield without trying herself.
Simon turned to Liszt. The old man smiled faintly. “Do I look like someone who needs that?”
*Fine. These two really are a pair of proud souls.*
After parting outside the Golden Orchid Harp, Simon returned to his card shop.
Evening hush replaced daytime bustle. The usual trio of card players across the street was gone—leaving him oddly unsettled.
Upstairs, he checked: the vampire girl still slept. Alone at his desk, he turned leftover low-grade materials into cards. Grade C and D cards barely fed the Spark Core anymore, but stocking up helped.
Bread leaped through the window, crouched by his feet, and licked its paws.
***
The next morning, Simon dressed formally, checked the mirror, and headed toward the Academy district—not from eagerness, but sheer boredom.
As a Grade C Cardmaker, advancing required ten Grade B cards and one Grade A. But high-tier materials weren’t sold at wholesale markets. Most independent Cardmakers stalled right here.
Halfway downstairs, the door opened.
“Tidris? You’re free? And Viana?”
His eyes landed on the black-clad girl trailing behind Tidris.
Then, a poised, elegant woman stepped forward.
“A pleasure to meet you, Shopkeeper Simon. I am the teacher of Tidelys and Viana.”
Simon froze at her cool expression.
“T-Teacher?”
He glanced at the silent, nervous Tidris and Viana.
*Caught skipping class? Is this a home visit?*
“Call me Atris,” she said, lifting her pleated skirt in a precise curtsy.
Simon bowed slightly, flustered. “O-Okay. Just… Simon is fine.”
Respect for teachers transcended worlds—he fumbled the tone.
“No problem, Simon.”
He ushered Atris to sit and sent Tidris to brew tea.
“Atris… Miss, what brings you here?”
“I represent the Academy. We invite you to join the logistics department.”
Simon went rigid.
*Wait… are they recruiting a janitor?*
