The next morning, I woke up in an unusually good mood.
The kind of happiness that remains quietly inside the body even after waking.
For several moments, I simply stared at the ceiling while remembering the warmth of lantern light, fragrant tea, soft music, impossible conversations, and games of Go that somehow stole nearly all my money.
Eventually I checked my coin pouch.
Almost empty.
And yet—
I smiled.
Not because losing money felt good.
But because somehow the happiness itself had not fully disappeared yet.
After thinking quietly for a while, I finally opened the hidden pocket sewn into the inner lining of my robe.
A secret emergency reserve.
I had not touched it for seven months.
Carefully, I loosened the stitching and removed ten gold coins.
Not a fortune.
But not insignificant either.
Ten silver could rent a simple room.
Twenty silver could secure a genuinely comfortable inn.
My favorite roasted beef cost eight silver.
But none of that mattered right now.
This was clearly an emergency.
I needed exploration funds.
Before leaving, I told Ryn about my experience inside The Jade Veil House.
She listened silently for several minutes before rubbing her forehead with visible exhaustion.
The more excited I became while describing everything, the more tired she looked.
Personally, I still think she is slightly too rigid.
That afternoon, I visited The Moonthread Bazaar.
The entire market resembled a living maze made from silk and colored light.
Long flowing fabrics hung overhead like rivers suspended in the sky, turning sunlight into shifting waves of ruby, emerald, sapphire, and gold.
The air smelled faintly of sandalwood, perfume oils, and newly woven silk.
Moonfen Sisters stood elegantly beside their stalls, touching fabrics with such care and intimacy that even cloth itself began feeling dangerously persuasive.
Men wandered through the market carrying expensive silk rolls with the same expression I had after leaving The Jade Veil House.
Spiritually compromised.
I explored for quite some time.
But strangely, nothing truly captured my interest.
I did not need silk.
Nor did I particularly understand why so many men willingly sacrificed entire fortunes for fabric.
Eventually I reached the far end of the bazaar.
And there—
I found something that stopped me completely.
A small stall selling books and strange wooden branches.
Or more accurately—
sticks.
The Moonfen Sister managing the stall possessed the same impossible beauty shared by all Moonfen Sisters, which by this point no longer felt worth describing repeatedly inside my journal.
But it was not her appearance that fascinated me.
It was what she was doing.
A small flame floated above her palm before she tossed it lightly into the air.
It burst apart into glowing flowers.
Moments later, she touched a customer’s teacup.
Steam immediately rose from it again.
Warm.
Fresh.
As though time itself had reversed.
Then another cup nearby suddenly frosted over completely.
Ice spread across the surface so quickly it looked like winter had arrived by accident.
I stared at her in complete disbelief.
Was this magic?
When I asked, she shook her head gently.
Almost amused.
“Magic does not exist,” she said softly.
That answer only confused me further.
Then what exactly was she doing?
She explained patiently that she was merely redirecting the arcane energy naturally present in the air.
According to her, arcane energy existed everywhere.
Especially near Yggdra.
“We are very close to the eastern leyline center,” she explained.
“The density here is unusually high.”
She spoke about it so casually that eventually I began believing her.
Apparently anyone could learn basic manipulation.
Especially here.
It simply required practice.
And effort.
Unfortunately, those are precisely the kinds of words capable of activating every dangerous instinct inside me.
Before long, she was showing me a book she personally wrote regarding basic arcane manipulation techniques.
Alongside it rested a slender wand carved from pale wood.
“A Wand of Yggdra,” she explained.
“A branch from the Tree of Life.”
The price nearly killed me.
Eight gold.
But the moment I opened the book, I understood immediately that this was not fraud.
Not entirely.
The writing was sincere.
Careful.
Patient.
This was not merely instruction.
It was devotion.
And as both a storyteller and writer myself—
I recognized devotion immediately.
Eight gold suddenly felt cheap.
So naturally—
I bought both.
I carried them back through Lunaveil while holding the book against my chest like sacred treasure.
At some point during the walk back to the inn, I became fully convinced that once I mastered arcane manipulation, I would absolutely astonish Ryn.
Possibly even Caravan Master.
I smiled the entire way home.
Now it is late at night.
Earlier, Ryn entered my room while I was attempting to perform arcane manipulation using the wand.
I was reciting phrases dramatically while swinging it through the air with complete seriousness.
Nothing happened.
Naturally.
But that was hardly discouraging.
Something resembling magic could not possibly be mastered in one evening.
Ryn watched silently for several seconds before releasing the longest, most exhausted sigh I have heard from her so far.
Then she demanded the rest of my remaining money.
Immediately.
According to her, this was “for my own good.”
She also claimed she only did this because she cared about me.
Eventually I surrendered the coins peacefully.
At this point, she already resembles an older sister enough that resistance feels mostly pointless.
She exchanged my remaining gold into silver and handed me back fifty silver coins.
“Enough,” she said firmly.
Personally, I disagree.
But arguing felt dangerous.
After finishing this journal entry, I intend to continue practicing arcane manipulation.
I will become skilled eventually.
I am certain of it.
Ryn clearly does not understand my vision yet.
But next time I meet Spathian—
I will tell him everything.
He, at least, will understand greatness when he sees it.
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