Chapter Twenty-Three: The Nobleman of Pure Love

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“To let my clients truly experience the allure of elemental shaping magic, I made a few subtle modifications when designing the scrolls.”

Recognizing the identity of the speaker, Ethan’s hope reignited immediately.

First, this young noble was very wealthy.

Second, he belonged to the pure-hearted faction; rounding it up, they were basically on the same side. It seemed only natural for comrades to support each other, right?

Ethan earnestly introduced, “I discovered that the power of the Ice Arrow spell has its limits when making these scrolls. Nowadays, when you’re out and about, you often encounter situations where a single Ice Arrow just won’t do. That’s when you need three Ice Arrow scrolls. According to my design, releasing the magical energy from three charged parchment sheets simultaneously can unleash a truly powerful attack.”

Ethan couldn’t help but give a thumbs-up to this batch of scrolls; he felt he had quite a knack for this craft.

The young noble’s expression turned hesitant. “Uh… what exactly do you mean by a ‘truly powerful attack’?”

It was the first time he’d heard such a unique description.

“Well… you could think of it as an enormous Ice Arrow, effectively compensating for the limited impact area of a single Ice Arrow. If there’s a large water source nearby, the scroll’s effect is significantly enhanced. But remember, never activate three scrolls simultaneously in densely populated areas—unless you want to be labeled a terrorist.”

Being Ethan’s first customer and a fellow ally, he was especially careful in his explanation. “Also, when using the Ice Arrow scroll, if you’re not aiming to kill your target, please avoid aiming at the upper body and factor in the piercing power of the Ice Arrow; otherwise, you might accidentally harm bystanders.”

He certainly didn’t want his first client to inadvertently become a deranged murderer or a terrorist.

“Oh? This is the first time I’ve heard of such an intriguing magic scroll,” the young noble said with keen interest. He carefully examined one of the scrolls. “Are you sure this is an Ice Arrow scroll?”

“Authentic Ice Arrow scroll, guaranteed,” Ethan said confidently, patting his chest. “Tenfold compensation for any fakes!”

The black-haired maid trailing behind the noble gave Ethan a different look. With her rare green eyes, she now cast him a look of disdain, as if he were a con artist.

“Interesting. Twenty copies, thirty gold lions. Very well, I’ll take them all.”

When the noble turned to the maid, her disdain vanished, replaced by a sweet and obedient smile. Holding her bag in both hands, she quietly reminded, “Young master, I just noticed that Ice Arrow scrolls at the magic scroll shop sell for only 60 silver antelopes each, and if you buy ten at once, you can pick any one basic elemental shaping spell scroll as a bonus.”

“But the shop’s scrolls don’t have the three-in-one function, nor can they unleash a… uh, ‘truly powerful attack,’ right?”

The noble’s learning ability was impressive—he memorized the unique description immediately.

The black-haired maid’s eyes curved into a crescent as she smiled beautifully, giving off a refreshing spring breeze kind of feeling.

Yet Ethan felt that this spring breeze carried a hint of chill.

She no longer argued. From her bag, she took out a cloth pouch, counted thirty gold lions into it, and handed it to Ethan.

Her hands trembled, but she maintained professionalism, at least before her young master. Most likely, she had overheard the shop owner’s declaration that “elemental shaping mages are no longer suitable for this version” and had seen him leave the shop in a sulk after being rejected.

Ethan didn’t agree with many of the owner’s judgments, despite having over seven years of experience selling magic scrolls.

He earnestly explained to the pair, “I think the owner harbors a deep prejudice against elemental shaping mages. Basic elemental shaping spells aren’t as terrible as he claims.”

When discussing this, the owner used guns and bullets as examples, saying the era had changed and marksmen were now the strongest class in this version.

Ethan confidently assured his clients he intended to keep doing business in Hearth Bay and wasn’t the type to take the money and run. “The Ice Arrow scrolls I sell should work better than guns. I’ll stay in Hearth Bay, and if you’re satisfied after using them, you’re welcome to return to my magic scroll shop.”

“Your shop?”

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The young noble looked around. Ethan was the only person here, not even a vendor’s shadow in sight. He joked, “At least tell me your name or nickname. Maybe I’ll become a regular customer.”

“Old Sen… huh?”

Ethan had wanted to blurt out “Old Sen’s Magic Scroll Shop,” but that was clearly not a name or nickname. “Good question!”

True to his pure-hearted nature, the noble asked a question that hit straight to the core.

What was his name again?

The black-haired maid took a deep breath, pinched the flesh on the back of her hand hard, and managed to keep calm. Then, when the noble wasn't paying attention, she gave Ethan a sharp side-eye.

What a glaring eye-roll!

Not to mention her, even Ethan now felt he looked suspicious.

Obviously, his name wasn’t Ethan. Hearth Bay was rife with treachery; no one used their real name here. His identity as a shelter bureau investigator and code name were also off limits—otherwise, if Ivy strolled through Hearth Bay, she’d immediately see through his secret magic scroll dealings behind the leader’s back.

Ivy was a good girl, a good leader, but she never represented just herself—always the entire Margaret family. After two years of experience, Ethan desperately wanted to avoid any ties to the imperial nobility.

The young noble and the black-haired maid both looked at him, waiting silently for his answer.

In theory, this wasn’t a complicated question, but a thousand thoughts flashed through Ethan’s mind. He wasn’t good at naming things and found it hard to come up with a memorable and imposing nickname on the spot.

Until a face appeared in his mind.

A distinguished chemist who once stood at a crossroads of fate, just like him.

A shared plight, confronting the dark side of the world, unable to use their real name.

More importantly—

“Hysenborg. You can call me that.”

Hysenborg was also Old Sen!

“Hysenborg…”

The young noble’s eyes gleamed with meaning. “Is that your hometown?”

“Sort of.”

Ethan was noncommittal.

He knew their understandings of ‘hometown’ differed slightly. Hysenborg was from a world he had seen in movies in his past life—his true hometown—while the noble probably meant a northern coastal city of the empire.

“I’ll remember that. Farewell for now. If your Ice Arrow scrolls really work as well as you say, I’ll be back to buy more.”

The noble rolled up the Ice Arrow scrolls and put them in his bag. Ethan noticed that the bag’s actual storage space seemed much larger than it appeared. Then again, wealthy people like them wouldn’t carry ordinary backpacks.

For Ethan, tonight had been a rollercoaster.

Despite some surprises, it ended well.

So...

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Are basic spell scrolls really no longer marketable?

Watching the noble and the maid’s departing figures, Ethan pondered deeply. This transaction was far from normal—such a big opportunity was rare—but it gave Ethan new inspiration.

If Ice Arrow scrolls couldn’t be sold, he’d just change the name and transform their identity.

His first customer wasn’t attracted by a 60 silver antelope basic spell but by the three-in-one effect.

But this wasn’t the limit of Ice Arrow, nor the extent of what he could inscribe.

Ethan was still standing outside the scroll shop when he caught sight of the owner through the corner of his eye.

The owner was glaring at him, a mixture of disdain and envy.

“You’re lucky,” his lips seemed to say.

Right.

The owner’s words had reminded Ethan of something important.

—If you really want to make money selling magic scrolls, learn skills that no one else can.

So, what could he do that other elemental illustrators couldn’t?

That day, the seven-year veteran of magic scroll sales wore a face as if he’d swallowed a fly. Sitting behind the counter, he felt like ants were crawling all over him.

He had already shown enough hostility toward Ethan, openly scornful. He had expected Ethan to mock him after making money and was prepared for a verbal battle with this inexperienced kid. If that had happened, he probably wouldn’t feel this miserable now.

But Ethan neither mocked him nor entered the shop again.

Before leaving, Ethan even left him with a single phrase:

“Thanks.”

No anger, no mockery. When saying this, Ethan’s eyes held no trace of the magic scroll shop or the man behind the counter.

Seven years of sales experience made the owner understand the meaning behind that look.

This inexperienced kid must have figured out a way to make money.

Figured out how to push those unsellable scrap scrolls.

He was so curious!

The crawling sensation of ants grew stronger and stronger.