That night, after dinner, Wayne released the white dove from his hat to feed it, and then he took out the basic theoretical book on messenger bird magic to review it. He already knew the book by heart, but still read it every day.
On the table, the dove seemed startled by something, cooing as it burrowed back into the hat. Wayne glanced to the side and saw a shadow on the windowsill. Its cold, golden eyes stared at him with no emotion. It was about thirty centimeters tall, standing perfectly still and motionless. Below its eyes, what looked like a tentacle curled and twisted.
He jumped, but looking more carefully, he realized that it wasn’t some abomination, but an entirely black owl with a mouse in its beak. The mouse was alive, and the twisted tentacle was its tail.
“You little...” he grumbled, waving his hand to shoo away the curious owl. The owl’s boldness surprised him. It flew onto the table and placed the mouse in front of him.
The mouse immediately played dead, its tail no longer moving.
Wayne was puzzled, but then the black owl pushed the mouse forward with its claw and tilted its head at him, as if saying, Dinner’s on me. Eat to your heart’s content. It’s an all-you-can-eat buffet of mice.
He snorted. The owl wasn’t afraid of humans at all and acted quite hospitably. In comparison, his snowy owl was utterly insufferable.
“Thank you, but I’m not eating that. I’ve had dinner.”
He tried to get the owl to leave on its own with a wave of his hand. It didn’t work. The black owl clearly misunderstood, and it grabbed the mouse’s head with one claw, turning it from playing dead to actually dead with a crunching noise. Satisfied, the owl pushed the carcass toward him once more.
“It’s not about whether it’s dead—forget it. You mean well...”
He sighed. He was grateful, but rodents weren’t part of his diet. He stood up and raised both hands, trying to scare the owl away.
It did next to nothing. The owl simply tilted its head, making him seem like an idiot for the futile attempt at intimidation.
“You’re quite smart to know who’s a good person and won’t hurt you. Too bad you came too late. The Wayne household is at full capacity now. I can only provide you one good meal, not keep you well fed for life.”
“Go on. If you don’t leave, I’ll have you as a snack.”
He reached out to grab the owl. Not wanting to be touched, it hopped onto the windowsill and disappeared into the night sky with a flutter of its wings.
“Quite cute... Maybe I should replace my nighttime messenger bird?”
He tossed away the dead mouse on the table and sat back down to resume his reading, but not long after, a familiar gaze made him sigh. He turned around to see the same owl bringing him another mouse.
“Is there a vermin problem here?” he grumbled and spread his arms to stop the owl from entering. Just as he was going to close the window, the owl flew away.
He didn’t move, curious what else the owl would do.
Two minutes later, he watched in shock as the owl brought a necklace to him and dropped it on the windowsill. The pendant was a winged cross star, each feather detailed and vivid. The hollow center was embedded with a ruby and numerous small diamonds. The style resembled something from the Renaissance era.
You get me, Brother Owl!
His heart raced as he picked up the necklace and examined it. His eyes glinted. The necklace was covered with quite a bit of soil, like it had been freshly dug up.
“You... Is there more?”
He gestured at the owl, marveling that good deeds were indeed rewarded—heaven saw all, and if good karma didn’t return immediately, it was just building up to something bigger.
The owl might not have understood his words, but it did understand the different way he reacted to the mice and the necklace. After another two minutes, it brought back a ring, followed by earrings, bracelets, bangles, and other jewelry.
He grinned so widely that even his molars were visible. This would be his owl! Starting from tonight!
The snowy owl was undisciplined. It lacked team spirit and dedication to the group and had poor communication with its superior. It was unfit for its current duties. After deliberation, he decided the snowy owl was to be demoted to mascot status. This lucky owl would be the Wayne household’s sole nighttime messenger bird going forward.
All the items the black owl brought him were small. He suspected that it had discovered a treasure trove in an easily unearthed state, allowing it to excavate a pile with its claws.
To prevent antique dealers from wastefully selling the precious jewelry at a low price, Wayne decided to take everything for safekeeping. He climbed out of the window and effortlessly jumped down from the second floor, following the black owl to the treasure site.
Several times, he lost track, but the black owl always returned to guide him. Half an hour later, he stumbled through dense forest to a cave in a rocky crevice.
He shone his flashlight into the cave. It was extremely narrow, barely passable. It only opened up a dozen steps into the opening. He hesitated, but his supernatural sense gave no warning. After a moment of pondering, he squeezed himself sideways into the cave, driven by the universal responsibility to rescue precious treasure.
The black owl led the way. Once the cave opened up, it took flight and perched above a shadow. Wayne lifted his flashlight and saw that it was a stone statue in a seated posture, holding a book in its hands. The dense vines wrapping around and entangling it made it impossible to get a clear look at its face.
His attention was on the book. Upon closer inspection, he found the obvious traces of a mechanism on the stone hands. Something had to be triggered to retrieve the book.
The book was made of unknown material and showed no decay despite the years, its cover as good as new without a speck of dust. The hexagram on the cover reminded him of one of the gates at Vera’s home. He made the educated guess that this was a magic book.
Wonderful. His luck was finally turning for the better!
He had read many novels where the protagonists rose to power in exactly the same way; they stumbled into a cave by chance and found a secret text. By mastering it, they proved everyone who ever looked down on them wrong while collecting pretty girls along the way, finally becoming unrivaled and unifying the world.
Although the genre was fantasy rather than martial arts here, the essence remained the same. Power fantasies differed little between the East and the West; the Western ones were often even more unapologetic.
He searched for the mechanism with his flashlight and found a line of text under the stone chair.
“Kneel before me a hundred times and receive my legacy. Take me as your master and obey my commands...”
Translation was an art—that wasn’t the exact words, but his rough translation covered the gist of the message.
“I think I’ve seen the trope somewhere!” he grumbled. Whoever wrote that line meant that to inherit the magic book, he would have to kneel a hundred times and become their apprentice, following their orders. He, naturally, wasn’t going to kneel. Here, it was customary to get on one knee for a king, on both knees for a god, but never for one’s teachers.
“My esteemed master, please receive this student’s bow,” he muttered before bowing slightly and hopping in place. He speculated that the mechanism was underground, and jumping a hundred times would have the same effect as kneeling a hundred times. Indeed, he triggered something after about ten jumps.
The vines wrapping the stone statue scattered like venomous snakes, and the statue holding the book slowly stood up. Based on its form, it appeared to be a woman in a hooded robe.
The black owl flew away with an eerie hoot. The stone statue stepped down from its seat and stiffly extended both hands to present him the magic book, the solemnness befitting a ritual for passing on a legacy.
Wayne blinked in surprise for a moment. Since the person was dead, he might as well kneel to pay his temporary master some respect. But then he reconsidered. His master was dead anyway. There was no reason to adhere to formalities as long as he held respect in his heart.
He shamelessly accepted the magic book and was about to open it when the stone statue spoke:
“Now that you’ve taken my magic book, you will be my apprentice going forward. You will obediently follow your master’s instructions. No going back on your word.”
Eyes wide, he nodded vehemently. Please, have a good trip back. This student won’t see you off.
Why aren’t you leaving yet, Master? Please go!
That wasn’t going to happen. The ‘stone statue’ shed the dust particles covering its surface, revealing a slender, attractive figure. The mage wore a hooded robe and was a warm, breathing body—clearly alive.
Flying back down, the black owl landed on her shoulder and ducked, vanishing into her robe. She pulled down her hood, exposing her short hair and delicate features. It was unmistakably Silvia.
In disbelief, Wayne shone his flashlight on her for confirmation. Yes, it was indeed Silvia Valentine.
“Wayne, although the ritual was somewhat hasty, and you showed a serious lack of sincerity, you did pass my earlier test and prove your character. Having accepted this magic book, you are my apprentice from today on.”
She smiled and lowered her voice, appealing to his desire. “How about it? Having seen the truth of this world, are you beginning to crave power?”
Young man, do you crave power?
Another overused trope. Wayne rolled his eyes and waved his hand in front of her, letting a thread of pure mana overflow, disrupting her posturing.
“You’re too late. Someone told me the truth about the world already.”
Silvia stood stunned. She had spent a day with him and never detected any trace of mana from him, which wasn’t the surprising part. Many excellent mages were able to conceal their energy and appear as ordinary.
What amazed her was his mana. It wasn’t much, but it was a hundred percent pure.
Its pitifully small amount told her that he had only recently become a mage, while the mana’s discreet nature and purity showed his genius!
Excellent teachers had parents getting on their knees and begging them to take in their children; excellent students had schools offering scholarships to compete for them.
Given the revelation, Silvia would have to adjust her recruitment method. How troublesome. Perhaps she would have to pressure another mage into giving Wayne to her. Wouldn’t that look bad when she had just returned to Londan?
She conjured an earth wall to block the cave entrance. Her eyes flickered with want as she said seriously, “Tell me the truth, Wayne. Who is your master? Who led you onto the path of magic?”
“I’m telling the truth. An unlucky fellow under a curse planted a seed of mana in my body. Through that, I found my mana.” Wayne told the truth while omitting the unlucky fellow’s name.
He was still reeling from the shock that Silvia was a mage. How did she juggle being a fashion designer and that?
“How long has it been since you awakened mana?”
“A few days. It was earlier this week, actually. If I hadn’t left Londan, I would have enrolled in night school.”
Night school?! That’d be a waste of your talent!
Silvia stared at him silently. The attempt to guide the awakening of his mana was crude, which made it clear that the seed of mana wasn’t the handiwork of a powerful mage. Good. Since that person didn’t show enough care and allowed him to wander around unsupervised, she wouldn’t hesitate.
Goddess, this man will make a good disciple!