"I Don't Owe Anyone a Favor"

"Then I'll have to trouble you with this for the time being, Mr. Sopea."

Iris said, "If you hear anything about his identity, Mr. Sopea, you can have someone let us know."

As for the people in the Void Arts Space, Sopea would contact them. The Dawn Council would handle the real-world side of things.

"Sure."

Once they'd finished discussing everything, Sopea went straight up to the third floor. If they had to wait, then they'd wait.

Connie went to prepare for Entering Dream, while Sean and the others left the Void Arts Space and returned to reality.

At the signing event, Sean and Charles had exchanged phone numbers. This black-fan ringleader who'd sent him a razor blade was one of the few people he could trust right now.

After all, Charles had risked his life trying to help him escape. If he couldn't trust someone like that, then he couldn't trust anyone. So when it came to the potion, Charles was the first person Sean thought of.

Connie was willing to help him enter the dream for free. That was already a considerable favor, so he couldn't ask her to provide the Forgetfulness Potion as well. He didn't want to owe people too much.

Elvily both appreciated this and wanted to tease him for it.

The truth was, Sopea was doing her a favor. Sean and Connie, the two people directly involved, had little to do with it. And her favor was worth far more than a bottle of Forgetfulness Potion. Even if Sean showed up empty-handed, Connie and Sopea wouldn't say a thing.

But Sean insisted on calling Charles and trying to handle it himself.

Elvily couldn't help wondering, Do all men care this much about their pride?

Meanwhile.

Charles was extremely cautious when he answered the call.

The phone number and ID Sean had used before had both been shut down by the Floris Family. Fortunately, he'd prepared in advance and bought plenty of SIM cards. This time, he called Charles from one of his new backup numbers. They went back and forth over their "secret code" several times before Charles finally believed he was Sean—

"Where did we first meet?"

"Temple Square."

"What about the other first time?"

"At the signing event."

"A female fan asked you to sign her thigh. What color was she wearing?"

"?"

How the hell was he supposed to know that?

He was a gentleman!

Elvily gave him a look of contempt. "You signed a girl's leg?"

Sean explained, "I didn't actually sign my name. I just wrote the character for 'upright.'"

Elvily: "?"

Now Charles was sure the person on the other end of the phone was Sean.

He'd accidentally caught a glimpse at the time, and it really had been the character for "upright."

Charles didn't ask who the nice-sounding woman on the phone was and went straight to business. "What potion do you need this time?"

He'd been busy lately. He still hadn't finished his existing orders, and just then his teacher had called to tell him to fly out of town in a few days, on Ascetic Day, to study potion-making on site. His teacher had also offered to introduce him to some important figures. There was no way he could turn that down, so he'd had to work overtime. He was taking Sean's call by the kitchen door, with a pot of ingredients brewing over the stove, purple smoke rising from it.

"Do you have a Forgetfulness Potion?" Sean asked.

Charles: "?"

"Do you think that highly of me?"

It was a Tier Four potion! Even if he was a genius, there were limits to how genius he could be!

Sean hurried to clarify, "You've got it wrong. I'm not overestimating you. I just wanted to ask if you had a way to get one."

Charles: "..."

I think you'd be better off continuing to overestimate me.

Listen to what you're saying. What do you mean, you're not overestimating me?

"My teacher should have some. How much do you need?" Charles asked. "General anesthesia or local?"

Forgetfulness Potion contained neurotoxins, and its components were similar to those of anesthetics. So people in the trade usually referred to forgetfulness as "paralysis." "General anesthesia" meant wiping the brain's hard drive clean and forgetting everything, while "local anesthesia" meant selective forgetting, with the amount depending on the potion's strength.

This sort of jargon had its uses: it made it harder to give away your identity when talking to people outside the trade.

"One bottle. The kind used for Entering Dream," Sean said.

"You found a wizard who cultivates dreams?" Charles knew what Sean wanted as soon as he heard that, but he didn't ask for details. He only made the casual remark, then continued, "The market price is one hundred and fifty thousand. If I ask my teacher, I should be able to get it for a hundred thousand."

Sean had a bad feeling. "Those numbers you just said—they're in units of ten thousand, right?"

Charles: "What else?"

Sean: "..."

A hundred thousand for one potion. If he bought a few bottles, wouldn't that be enough to lose his seaside villa?

As if he'd guessed Sean's predicament, Charles said loyally, "I can front you the money."

Alchemists had been making good money since the Scholar Era, and they still did now. With his teacher recommending him for jobs, he'd saved up quite a bit this year. He wouldn't claim to have a fortune, but he could spare a hundred thousand.

"No need. I'll find a way to get the money. I'll send you an address in a bit. It'd be best if you could deliver it within two days," Sean said.

Charles: "OK."

Elvily watched Sean with an amused expression.

A hundred thousand for a Forgetfulness Potion was already very cheap. Charles was a good friend and hadn't tried to rip Sean off, but it was still a hefty sum.

Sean didn't want to owe anyone a favor, but he also wanted to get his hands on some money. She wanted to see where he'd find a hundred thousand within a day.

Sean hung up, then held out his hand to her. "Can I borrow your phone?"

Elvily: "Looking for Kate?"

"No." Sean shook his head. "I promised you I wouldn't hang out with Kate."

Besides, he didn't need Elvily's phone to call Kate. He remembered Kate's private number.

Elvily asked, puzzled, "Then why do you need my phone?"

"You'll see if you give it to me."

"Are you sure it's not Kate?" Elvily handed him the phone, still doubtful.

The next second, Sean called Iris.

"Hello, Ms. Iris?"

"It's Sean. Lend me a hundred thousand."

Iris: "?"

For a moment, she didn't know how to respond.

It wasn't that she couldn't afford it, or that she didn't want to lend it to him. The request had just come out of nowhere, with no small talk or attempt to build rapport beforehand. He'd immediately asked for a hundred thousand. Anyone would have been stunned.

Most importantly, hadn't she hinted that Sean should ask Elvily?

Could this author really not bring himself to ask?

Sean answered honestly, "Ms. Elvily told me to ask you. She said you're rich."

Elvily: "..."

Iris: "..."

Got it. Her good friend was using her as a shield again.

No wonder Sean had called from Elvily's phone.

"Sure," Iris said with a laugh. "Are you buying something? Do you want cash, or should I transfer it to you?"

"Transfer it," Sean replied. "I'll send you the account details."

"Okay. Remind the recipient to check for the payment in three minutes," Iris said.

Elvily hadn't said a word the whole time. She didn't explain anything to Iris, much less stop Sean from asking Iris for money.

She'd promised she would do this, and she wasn't going to go back on her word. She could just give Sean the money outright, let alone lend it to him. To her—no, to Iris—a hundred thousand was nothing. The potions they used to increase their magic at their tier each cost more than that.

But—

"Didn't you say you didn't want to owe anyone a favor?" Elvily asked in a deliberately mocking tone. "What, my favor doesn't count?"

"Of course it counts."

Sean took the girl's hand and returned her phone, gazing into her eyes with a tender expression. "But you're not just anyone."

Elvily: "...?"

"Gurgle!"

The kettle on the table suddenly whistled.

"The water, the water's boiling. I'll pour it..."

Elvily snatched her hand back as if she'd been shocked, avoiding Sean's gaze as she went to get a cup.

The hospital room window had been left open for some fresh air. Half the windowsill caught the beautiful sunset outside, while the hills and waters in the distance, painted in the evening glow, looked like a delicate oil painting. The other half was glass, reflecting the girl's slightly flustered figure as she busied herself. Sean thought the scene was every bit as lovely as the painting.

So... why had he ever made the girl dislike him?

He was clearly good at winning girls over.

Hopefully, Connie could help him find the answer.

The Void Arts Space, the Hall of Truth, the Saintess of the Holy See, and the Elvily sisters... Four keywords. That wasn't many. It shouldn't be difficult to use them to construct a dream.

Charles was as efficient as ever.

The next afternoon, the boy who delivered the newspaper also brought him the Forgetfulness Potion.

After a quick dinner, Sean headed to the church in town.

Connie was already waiting for him with the dream potion in hand.

"Is Mr. Sean ready?"

The girl blinked. "You might sleep until tomorrow."

"Let's do it."

Sean downed the potion, took off his shoes, and got into bed.