In a dark room, a soft light slowly blood, then gently faded into nothingness. Clayton, who had been closely observing the process, finally let out a relieved smile. The magic scroll he had painstakingly crafted was a success.
Excited, Clayton examined the scroll thoroughly, searching for anything he could improve. After a few monts, he noticed so interesting details: the forty-eight scroll had indeed worked and would function well when used. Still, there were minor flaws—slightly unstable circuits, imperfect craftsmanship, and a few small details that could be refined.
Overall, however, the result was more than satisfying. Unfortunately, the scroll couldn’t be stored for long—it would lose its effect after just a few days.
Even so, Clayton wasn’t disappointed in the slightest. To him, this success was only the beginning. If he could do it once, he could do it again—twice, even three tis. Only then did he realize how late it had gotten. He had been so absorbed in crafting that he’d lost track of ti. Quickly, he began cleaning up and preparing for bed.
...
In a dark, damp room, a man sat shackled in wooden stocks. His body was pitiful—thin, weak, and exhausted. That man was Bravus, the sa one who had struck a custor at the brothel not long ago.
"Boss... please... let out. I promise I won’t do it again..." he croaked, his voice hoarse and ragged.
Bravus had been confined like this for quite so ti by the gambling boss. Every part of his body ached—his neck, legs, arms—everything. He had begged for forgiveness countless tis but never received a reply. Now, all he could do was repeat the sa pleas with a blank, lifeless stare.
He didn’t even fully understand why he had acted the way he did. But deep in his subconscious, a certain young man kept appearing—Clayton—and it filled him with rage.
He felt persecuted, convinced he was being unfairly punished. Bravus had never truly believed he was at fault. His subconscious had fed him the idea that, as long as he had that "magic perfu," he could get away with anything.
And to be fair, he wasn’t entirely wrong. But because he lacked any sense of limits or consequences, Bravus had beco reckless and overconfident.
Perhaps, if his mistakes hadn’t been so extre, the boss might have forgiven him. After all, he was still alive, despite causing so much trouble. But Bravus’s arrogance had blinded him—he’d dug a hole so deep, there was no way out.
Now, all he could do was bla others to ease his own guilt.
Clayton’s face lood ever clearer in his mind.
"Clayton... just wait. I’ll get my revenge," he muttered bitterly, just before losing consciousness.
...
The next morning, Clayton woke up energized, still riding the high of successfully crafting a mid-tier one-star magic scroll. He dove straight into his work, so focused that he forgot to eat lunch.
Only when his stomach growled did he stop. After a quick al, he went right back to work and continued until nightfall.
This ti, he managed to craft another forty-eight scroll, as well as two brand new ones—Pollution and Purification—both mid-tier one-star scrolls derived from spells he commonly used.
Clayton was thoroughly satisfied. He fell into a deep sleep, unsure whether it was from exhaustion or pure contentnt.
...
The next day, he woke up late—but didn’t rush. Instead, he brewed so coffee and lit a stick of incense, enjoying a peaceful morning. Only afterward did he return to his usual routine.
Just as he was about to resu scroll-making, the alarm from his ho’s defense system went off.
Clayton quickly stepped outside to see who had arrived.
"Oh, it’s you two! Co on in!" he called out when he saw Arthur and Lorenzo.
After sitting down and accepting drinks from Clayton, the two got straight to the point.
"Well," Arthur began, "we’re planning to explore another dungeon. Want to co with us?"
"Yeah, with both of us around, you’ll be much safer," Lorenzo added.
Clayton hesitated. Truth be told, he had no interest in dungeons. His life was now peaceful and comfortable. Still, their request made him pause.
After thinking for a mont, he answered honestly, "Sorry, Brother Arthur, Uncle Lorenzo. I’m really not interested in dungeon crawling. I’d much rather enjoy the peace of ho."
The two only smiled. They had expected Clayton to decline. Their real reason for visiting was simply to see him and strengthen their bond—not to pressure him into joining.
Clayton was relieved. But deep down, he still felt a little awkward, rembering the gifts they had once given him.
Suddenly, an idea struck.
"Wait here a second," he said.
He disappeared into the back room and returned with several scrolls.
"These... are so new ones I just finished."
Arthur and Lorenzo were instantly intrigued. As they examined the scrolls, their eyes widened in surprise.
"Mid-tier one-star scrolls?" Arthur said, impressed.
"So... you can already craft interdiate scrolls?" Lorenzo asked, astonished.
Clayton nodded with a modest smile. Arthur and Lorenzo were clearly impressed as they examined the details. anwhile, Clayton explained how the scrolls worked and what spells they contained.
"Clayton, you really are talented," Arthur said sincerely.
Clayton replied with a humble smile.
The conversation drifted to lighter topics—local news, recent events, and friendly banter. Eventually, Arthur and Lorenzo said their goodbyes and left.
Still full of energy, Clayton returned to his work and continued late into the night.
...
In a shadowy room, occasional flashes of lightning lit the space, casting an eerie glow. There, Bravus remained bound. His body had grown thinner, his face pale and sunken.
"Boss... please... give a chance..."
Though his body was deteriorating, his will to escape remained. He kept begging the gambling boss for rcy, though none had ever co.
During his confinent, he had not only been starved, but also regularly whipped and tortured with cruel instrunts.
Eventually, the boss appeared before him.
"I’ll let you go... if you can offer sothing worth the value of your life. What do you know—or what can you give ?"
Bravus’s eyes lit up for a brief second, but the spark of hope quickly faded. He had nothing of real value to offer.
Despair began to consu him. He regretted everything—his rashness, his pride. If he could turn back ti, he would never have lashed out at that custor.
His thoughts drifted back to Clayton. And again, he blad him for everything.
Back then, his life had been stable enough—not rich, but comfortable as a brothel servant.
Now, everything was gone.
As Bravus spiraled deeper into self-pity and hatred, the boss lost his patience.
"Enough. If you can’t give anything, then say goodbye to this world..."
Bravus trembled. His mind went blank.
All that remained was the fear of death... and a burning hatred for Clayton.
Just as the boss moved to act, Bravus suddenly shouted,
"Wait! I know sothing! It’s about Clayton!"
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