You Will Make a Name for Yourself

"Alicia! It's raining! Come back quickly!"

Arthur stood at the doorway and called out to Alicia, but she did not respond.

Anxiously, he found an umbrella on the first floor and ran outside beneath it. But before he could reach Alicia, she swayed and fell to one side.

"Alicia!" Arthur cried out anxiously.

Before she could hit the ground, someone caught her. Shaya had appeared at her side at some point.

Arthur had just run over as well. He tried his best to raise the black umbrella in his hand, sheltering them both beneath it, while he himself was drenched by the rain.

Shaya looked at Alicia in his arms and raised a hand, touching the back of it to her forehead. Her forehead was burning hot, her face visibly flushed, and her breathing was weak and rapid.

Alicia was sick, and seriously so.

Her fever would not go down. Shaya estimated it was around thirty-nine to forty degrees Celsius. Her consciousness was even somewhat muddled. Arthur spoke to her from the side, but she could only give vague, incoherent responses.

Shaya carried Alicia back to her bed and used magic to remove the moisture from her body.

Arthur sat watchfully beside the bed. A basin of warm water, around thirty degrees, sat at his side. He reached in, took out the towel, wrung it dry, and placed it on Alicia's forehead.

Then he looked at Shaya worriedly.

"Shaya, will she die?"

"What kind of question is that?" Cassifa said with amusement. "Is there anyone who won't die?"

Shaya was sitting before Cassifa, warming himself by the fire. Silently, he took a piece of wood from the basket beside him and placed it over Cassifa's mouth. Then he set the kettle he had just filled with water over the fire before replying.

"Why would you ask that?"

"I'm a little scared," Arthur said uneasily. "Grandma Director was like this too, and then she left a few days later."

Shaya nodded and said, "Don't worry. I may not know about others, but she should live for a very long time."

"Indeed." Cassifa stretched out a pair of tiny flaming hands, crossed them over his chest, and nodded.

"Although she's already over ninety, has suffered the loss of family, got soaked through in a snow mountain where it was only two or three degrees, and now has a fever so severe that she's delirious and it won't go down.

She should be fine."

Arthur's eyes immediately reddened.

Shaya glanced at Cassifa.

Cassifa shrank back, hiding his mouth in the pile of firewood and revealing only those mischievous eyes.

Shaya smiled helplessly. "A child under ten can't understand your sense of humor."

"He looked quite clever when he first arrived," Cassifa said.

Arthur came to his senses, his face flushing red as he shouted angrily, "Cassifa! Alicia is already like this, and you're still joking!"

Cassifa crackled with laughter and shrank back into the firewood pile.

Shaya slowly stood up and took the coat hanging on the rack nearby. "When Alicia wakes up, remember to give her some warm water."

"Where are you going?" Arthur asked. "To get a doctor?"

Shaya recalled the time he had gone to the hospital with Sebas.

"There's no need to get a doctor," Shaya said. "I'm going to buy a few things."

With that, he walked down the small steps, turned the dial to yellow, and went out.

The streets of the Imperial Capital were still quiet, though it was not raining today.

Swaying kerosene lamps illuminated the mansions and tall buildings on both sides. Shaya's storefront in the Imperial Capital was truly shabby compared with them, but he did not care.

Some gentlemen in tailcoats and richly dressed women could be seen walking along the streets. It was much livelier than before.

Though things had been somewhat unsettled lately, the Imperial Capital still displayed the prosperity befitting the capital of a nation.

What differed was that Shaya saw unfamiliar soldiers moving through the streets. They carried rifles on their backs and marched in orderly steps, seemingly on patrol.

A change of regime naturally brought unrest, especially in a feudal-era Britannia.

So Shaya was not surprised. He paid no attention to the soldiers and slowly made his way down the street to the restaurant where he had eaten with Sebas before.

At the moment, the tables and chairs outside had been cleared away. A carriage stood at the restaurant entrance, already loaded with all manner of things piled two or three meters high.

The restaurant owner, Hart, was still piling more things onto it.

He soon noticed Shaya's arrival, stopped carrying things, and greeted him.

"Sir."

Over the past few days, Shaya had occasionally come here for breakfast once or twice. Through casual conversation, Hart had learned that this mysterious young man lived nearby.

Shaya looked at the mountain of goods on the carriage, then at the restaurant.

"You aren't planning to stay open?"

Hart sighed. "Have you heard about what happened recently in the Imperial Capital?"

Shaya nodded.

"Prince Victor returned from the southern front a few days ago as well," Hart said. "He is His Majesty Moria's half-brother."

After a pause, he continued, "He is not a simple man. The Imperial Capital will no longer be peaceful in the days ahead."

"You're a smart man," Shaya said.

Hart smiled. "After all, I've run this place for many years."

Then he asked, "Do you need anything?"

"I want to buy some ginger and brown sugar," Shaya said. "Do you have any?"

Hart thought for a moment. "I remember there was some left from when I made gingerbread last Christmas. Please wait. I'll go look."

With that, he went back into his shop. A few minutes later, he came out carrying two small bags and handed them to Shaya.

"This is all that's left. I don't know whether it's enough."

Shaya opened the bags and checked them. "It's enough."

After a pause, he asked curiously, "Where are you planning to go?"

Hart considered it. "First, I'll return to my hometown, Saxili, in the south of the Empire. My niece is getting married soon, and I need to attend the wedding."

"Will you still run a restaurant?" Shaya asked.

Hart smiled helplessly. "Everyone in Saxili knows how to grill meat and sausages. You can see a restaurant like mine every fifty meters.

Otherwise, I wouldn't have left my hometown to open a shop in the Imperial Capital."

"It sounds like a nice place," Shaya said.

"Of course it is!"

At the mention of his hometown, Hart became very enthusiastic.

"It's a place you absolutely won't regret visiting. There are plains stretching as far as the eye can see, as well as towering snow-capped mountains. And especially the fjords there—such a small area, yet they can berth incomparably enormous ships.

And the beef there is the best in Britannia! Even the royal palace and nobles buy it.

The people there are simple and kind too. They never pick fights with others."

"I have been thinking about moving lately," Shaya said. "Your hometown sounds quite good."

Hart seemed delighted. "Saxili will always welcome you."

Shaya smiled as well and raised the two bags in his hand. "How much for these?"

"No, no." Hart hurriedly waved his hands. "They're only some seasonings."

After a pause, he thought for a moment and smiled.

"If you insist on giving me something in return, then wish me success in making a name for myself back home."

Shaya did not reply. Hart raised his eyes in confusion and met his gaze.

His black eyes held the stillness and tranquility of night. No one could discern his emotions within them.

After a moment, his brows lowered slightly, and the corners of his lips rose into a faint smile as he slowly spoke.

"You will make a name for yourself."

His voice was magnetic and steady, carrying an unquestionable certainty.

For some reason, Hart felt something very strange in his heart.

If before, he had stood at the crossroads of Fate, surrounded by an invisible fog, unable to see the direction of his life.

Then, the moment the words of the man before him fell.

The fog was torn apart. Beyond that crossroads, his Fate revealed a broad and perfectly straight road, though he did not know where it led.

Yes, that was exactly how he felt at that moment, with overwhelming intensity.

He came back to himself, his throat moving as he wanted to say something. Yet a thousand words ultimately condensed into only two.

"Thank you."