"Are you truly not going to return my mana stones?" Tars asked, eyeing the elderly wizard apprentice on the reclining chair beside him.

  "And have you truly mastered that Zero-Ring spell, Lord Tars?" the old man replied, though he didn't even bother to look over. His tone and posture made his thoughts on the matter perfectly clear.

  Watching him like this, a different doubt arose in Tars's mind.

  "Surely you didn't come all this way just to soak up the sun?" Tars said.

  The old man paused deliberately, as if making a monumental decision.

  "I heard about what happened at the Arena. If you truly are a wild wizard, then you must be a genius, so I decided to come and see for myself," the old man said with a straight face. "You're a lucky little fellow. If you give me just one thousand more mana stones, I'll stay and mentor you for three days. It might give you a better chance of actually learning that spell."

  Tars scrutinized the old drunkard, feeling more and more that he was unreliable. He even began to suspect the spell hadn't originated from him at all, despite the claim of a lifetime of research. If there was any connection between this old man and the spell, it was likely only that they shared a remarkably "miserly" disposition.

  "I prefer the slow challenge of mastering difficult magic on my own; it's a pleasure. If I never solve it, well, that's just as fine," Tars said with a smile, popping another fruit into his mouth.

  He had decided, after a moment's thought, not to reveal that he had already mastered Miser's Touch.

  Perhaps this, too, was a form of avarice.

  The old man's eyes widened—not in surprise, but in a flash of irritation. Seeing this, Tars chuckled and pulled out the tattered manual, placing it on the small round table between them.

  "If it pains you to see your life's work in my hands, you may take it back. I've already memorized the contents and kept a transcription for myself," Tars said.

  The old drunkard stared at the book on the table and let out a short burp, as if all his bluster had leaked out with the air.

  "Keep it! It's of no use to me anymore," the old man said with a laugh. "You're a stingy brat, aren't you? Perhaps one day you really will succeed. Of course, there is one way that guarantees success."

  Tars looked at him, recalling their previous conversation. "You mean the Soul-Heart Elixir?"

  The old drunkard had mentioned knowing about the Arena. Having shown up now, he likely knew Tars had won a bottle of the elixir and thought Tars stood a better chance of success, hence the offer to mentor him. The more Tars thought about it, the more he realized how desperately the old man wanted his spell to be passed down.

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  "Heh, those ignorant wild wizards don't know what Soul-Heart Elixir is, but I do," the old drunkard said with a touch of pride. "I'm a well-traveled wild wizard. But I'm not talking about the elixir. Don't be in a rush to use that; wait until you're on the verge of mastering the spell. That potion isn't a miracle cure—it scales with talent. A fool who uses it remains a fool, but the better your talent, the greater the effect."

  "Then what is this 'guaranteed' method you're talking about?" Tars was genuinely curious now.

  "Heh, simply become a formal wizard—a true wizard. When that time comes, don't forget the spell. Learning a Zero-Ring spell then will be child's play. Even if it's special and incredibly difficult for a Zero-Ring, it's still no match for a true wizard," the old drunkard explained.

  "I hear what you're saying, but the way you put it... it sounds like one should endure the hardships of becoming a First-Ring wizard just so they can come back and learn your Zero-Ring spell." Tars couldn't help but burst out laughing.

  The old man's face flushed red—it was hard to tell if he was intoxicated by his own fumes or simply flustered. After a long silence, he said nothing more.

  Tars reached out and tucked the tattered manual away again. Seeing this, the old man's expression gradually softened.

  "I haven't asked for your name yet," Tars said.

  The old man smiled faintly. "A name? Names aren't important. Just an old wizard apprentice who loves his drink. I've probably got a few years left in me; I've prepared to meet my end here in Starry City."

  He swayed his head. One moment he looked as if his time was up, and the next he was pulling out a flask and taking a swig.

  "If this spell is to be passed down, it should carry the name of its creator," Tars said seriously.

  "Use yours if you want! I have a feeling you'll be more famous than me anyway," the old man said, letting out a satisfied sigh after a large gulp of wine, his face beaming. "I was born in Starry City. I went out to see the world, and now that I'm back, there isn't a soul left who knows me. Let this spell be the last trace I leave on this world. I hope you learn it."

  The old man rose unsteadily and produced a small, exquisite silver flask. It was much smaller and more refined than the one he was drinking from. He placed it gently on the table.

  "This is 'Fairy King's Wine.' Consider it an advance refund on your mana stones. By the time you master that spell, I'll likely be gone from this world, so take it now. It's excellent stuff—has an effect somewhat similar to Soul-Heart Elixir. Use it as you see fit."

  The old man set the item down, took two more pulls from his large flask, and then 收 collected it. Shaking his head, he tottered away into the distance.

  Tars wanted to tell him that he had already learned it, but in the end, he remained silent. The booze-loving old wizard apprentice seemed satisfied enough believing that Tars could learn it in the future. Leaving this man with a sense of hope and comfort in his final years felt right. Tars felt as though he had done a good deed without really doing much at all—simply by doing what he felt was the right thing to do.

  Long after the old man had gone, the smell of wine around the chairs finally dissipated.

  Tars held the bottle of so-called Fairy King's Wine, hesitating. It was said that fairies were numerous and their "kings" even more so—one could pop out of any nook or cranny, each with their own peculiar abilities. Some wizards employed fairies to tend to experimental plants. He wanted to take a sip just to taste it, but it felt like a waste. The exquisite flask was sealed perfectly.

  After a moment of internal struggle, he simply put it away.

  Though the old man's plan to trade lessons for stones had failed, he had actually been quite helpful. His insights—such as identifying the previous visitor—were very useful to Tars, who otherwise would have been left in the dark.

  The maid, Daisy, walked over gracefully and placed a silver-white invitation before him. It bore a simple crest of a crossed sword and flower.

  Tars ate another fruit leisurely before picking up the card. It was from the Fendis family—Edgar's family—inviting him to some tedious social gathering the day after tomorrow.