The sun was setting over the Ravenwood Academy town center.
Its warm orange glow spilling across cobbled streets lined with quaint shops.
Professor Scarlett adjusted her half-fra glasses, her black hair tied neatly into a bun.
As she approached the store she visited monthly—the materials and resource shop.
A one-stop destination for magic ingredients, enchanted tools, and other essentials students used for their personal or academic projects.
It wasn't her favorite duty.
Normally, she delegated the task to her assistants, but this month, they were overwheld with grading assignnts and preparing coursework.
Begrudgingly, she had taken it upon herself.
She pushed open the door to the shop, the small bell above tinkling, and stepped into the familiar musty air mixed with the faint scent of herbs and parchnt.
The shop owner, a stout old man nad Wilfred, was behind the counter, ticulously counting gold coins and muttering to himself.
He looked up, squinting at her through thick spectacles.
"Ah, Professor Scarlett."
He grumbled, setting the coins aside.
"Co to ddle in my affairs again, have you?"
"I could sll that perfu u wear from down the street.."
Scarlett rolled her eyes and crossed her arms.
"ddle?
It's called an inspection, Wilfred.
You should be grateful we even bother to do these logs to keep your business up to code."
"Ha! My shop doesn't need your academy's help."
Wilfred scoffed, hobbling over to a shelf to rearrange so potion vials.
"Been running this place just fine for decades without you professors sticking your noses in."
Scarlett smirked, stepping closer to the counter.
"Decades, yes.
And yet, every month, you refuse support from the academy's funding, even though we've repeatedly offered it.
Why is that, Wilfred?
Afraid we might actually help you grow?"
"Grow into what?
A puppet shop for your greedy academy rats? No, thank you!"
He shot back, jabbing a finger in her direction.
"I won't let your fancy faculty run my business into the ground."
Scarlett chuckled, shaking her head.
"You're so dramatic. No one's trying to run your business, Wilfred.
We're offering you resources, better storage systems, and marketing support.
You know, things that might help you with...oh, I don't petition?"
Wilfred snorted and waved her off.
"Competition?
Bah! There's no competition.
Everyone knows this is the best resource shop in town."
"Which is why it's empty every ti I co here?"
Scarlett teased, gesturing at the vacant aisles.
"Face it, Wilfred. You're stubborn."
"And you're nosy."
He retorted, placing a jar of powdered mandrake root on a high shelf.
"I don't need help.
and the boy are managing fine as it is."
Scarlett paused, brow furrowing.
"The...boy?"
Wilfred stiffened for a mont, then went back to organizing the shelf.
"Never mind. None of your concern."
Scarlett's curiosity was piqued.
She wasn't going to get a straight answer out of him, but she made a ntal note to dig deeper later.
For now, she sighed and rubbed her temples.
"Fine, Wilfred. I'm not here to pry into your mysterious 'boy.'
Just give the docunts so I can log your business stats and be on my way."
Wilfred grumbled under his breath but shuffled to the back room, erging a mont later with a thick ledger bound in worn leather.
He slapped it onto the counter in front of Scarlett.
"There. Knock yourself out."
Scarlett opened the ledger, flipping through pages filled with neat handwriting and columns of numbers.
As she skimd the records, she noticed the lack of familiar nas in the shareholders' section.
Unlike other businesses in the town center, which were often co-owned by the academy or local guilds, this shop had none of those affiliations.
Instead, one na caught her eye.
It was scribbled hastily, almost as if the writer had tried to obscure it.
She leaned in closer, narrowing her eyes.
"Noah Ashbourne."
She read aloud, her voice barely above a whisper.
She blinked, half expecting her eyes to be playing tricks on her.
"A student...under a business venture? That's...unheard of."
Wilfred, sensing her surprise, crossed his arms defensively.
"What's it to you, Professor?"
Scarlett ignored him, her mind racing.
Noah Ashbourne.
The infamous second-year student with a reputation as the academy's most detested figure.
What in the world was he doing involved in a business?
And this business, of all things—a shop struggling to stay afloat?
It didn't add up.
"What are you up to, Noah?"
She muttered under her breath, closing the ledger.
Wilfred raised an eyebrow.
"You've got that look on your face, Professor.
The one that says you're about to stick your nose where it doesn't belong."
Scarlett sighed and shook her head.
"No, Wilfred.
For once, I'll leave it alone...for now.
But mark my words, this isn't the last ti we'll be talking about your 'boy.'"
Wilfred grunted, clearly unimpressed.
"Good. Now, if you're done with your paperwork, kindly see yourself out.
So of us have work to do."
Scarlett smirked, handing the ledger back to him.
"Always a pleasure, Wilfred. Try not to be too stubborn before my next visit."
As she stepped out of the shop and into the fading light of the town center, her thoughts lingered on the enigmatic connection between the resource shop and Noah Ashbourne.
***
༺ Noah's POV ༻
The system's familiar blue window floated before , glowing softly in the dim light of my dorm room.
Rows of abilities stretched endlessly, each one a temptation, but my eyes scanned the list with singular focus.
Among the myriad options, I searched for one skill—one that would ensure my survival in a world where daggers, both literal and taphorical, were poised to strike from every direction.
『Skill Window』
「Available Abilities:
- Mana Enhancent – 500 FEP
- Enhanced Dexterity – 800 FEP
- Minor Magic Resistance – 750 FEP
- Killing Intent Detection – 1000 FEP
- Persuasion Amplification – 600 FEP
- … 」
My gaze locked onto it.
[Killing Intent Detection].
A skill that hadn't even crossed my mind in my previous life.
Back then, as a third-rate character, I'd played my role—ultimately forgettable.
No one had truly wanted dead; my fate was scripted to end in disgrace, not death.
But this ti? This ti was different.
There were too many enemies this body made.
So wanted ruined.
Others…well, let's just say they wouldn't mind seeing my blood spill across the academy's pristine marble floors.
Even Maya, my so-called fiancée, could be plotting against .
Her disdain was palpable.
I could sense it in every clipped word, every glance she didn't bother to hide.
『System Notification 』
[Killing Intent Detection] – 1000 FEP
Would you like to purchase this skill?
I hesitated, the weight of the decision pressing down on .
Acquiring this skill ant two things:
1. I was acknowledging the reality that people might want to kill .
2. I was admitting, to myself more than anyone else, that I couldn't rely on anyone but .
But hesitation was a luxury I couldn't afford.
My survival depended on being ten steps ahead.
"Purchase," I said firmly.
The system chid in that cheerful, almost mocking tone.
『System Notification 』
「Skill purchased: [Killing Intent Detection]
False Evil Points deducted: 1000.
Current FEP: 0 」
The window disappeared, replaced by a brief surge of warmth in my chest.
Then, just as suddenly, the sensation vanished, leaving with the faintest awareness—a tickling at the edge of my senses.
It wasn't obtrusive, but I knew instinctively what it was.
[Killing Intent Detection] was active, lying in wait to alert to danger.
I leaned back in my chair, exhaling slowly.
Progress.
It wasn't flashy, but it was tangible.
The ability wasn't going to save on its own, but it was a step forward.
The next steps were just as crucial, though.
Money. Influence. Stability.
The deal with the shopkeeper, Old Man Wilfred, was the first move on the financial chessboard.
That crumbling excuse for a store held untapped potential, and with my knowledge of the novel's narrative, I knew its value would skyrocket in the year to co.
The business wasn't without risks, of course.
Investing now, when I was practically penniless, ant scraping together resources from thin air.
And if the plan failed—if Wilfred's stubbornness or my own interference disrupted the tiline—the consequences could be catastrophic.
But if it worked? The store would beco a cornerstone of the empire's economy.
For now, my involvent needed to be minimal.
A few nudges here and there, just enough to set things in motion without disrupting the original course.
I'd leave the day-to-day operations to Wilfred, as they had always been.
My role was to act as the mysterious benefactor, ensuring the shop had what it needed to survive its rough beginnings.
The system window blinked out, and I stood, stretching as I did.
My body ached from the strain of constant planning, training, and scheming, but I couldn't afford to slow down.
The next few days would be critical.
I still needed to secure additional funding.
The academy's rules about student employnt were strict, but there were loopholes if you knew where to look.
That would take more ti and effort than I cared to admit.
For now, the shop was a start.
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