Lin Mu leaned back on a little stool inside the tent, casually crossing his legs.
He held an original-flavor Alpenliebe lollipop between his lips while absentmindedly feeling the crystal ball's cool, smooth surface.
Sunlight filtered through the tent's light-colored fabric, bathing the interior in a hazy glow.
His fortune-telling stall looked completely out of place amid the bustling Club Recruitment Plaza, yet it somehow stood out.
The simple tent stood open beneath a plain banner. The words "Accurate Fortune-Telling: See the Road Ahead" swayed gently in the breeze. Tarot Cards were neatly arranged on the table, and the crystal ball gleamed faintly.
But the stall owner himself showed not the slightest enthusiasm for attracting customers. He just lounged there, eyes half-closed.
He seemed utterly detached from the bustle around him, as if simply waiting for a "fated visitor (fat sheep)" to show up on their own.
Students streamed past, their curious gazes occasionally drifting toward this quiet corner.
Some pointed at the banner and whispered, "Fortune-telling? Is it for real?" Others scoffed, "It's definitely just a gimmick to scam people out of points."
Some thought, "It looks pretty cool. Maybe it's cheap. Let's go ask."
But when they peeked inside the tent and saw that the stall owner was a handsome guy with pale hair and a cool expression, sucking on a lollipop and radiating a lazy "don't bother me" vibe,
and noticed the empty space on the table where prices should have been, most of them hesitated.
It took courage to be the first to try, especially when the stall owner looked like he had no interest in doing business and his prices were a mystery. (It's best to avoid stalls without price tags...)
After watching for a while, most people turned around and headed for the nearby clubs, where enthusiastic members were calling out and showing off their talents.
Lin Mu didn't care in the slightest. He even adjusted his posture to get more comfortable, in no hurry at all.
After all, his superpowers had him covered. Whether the stall stayed open or he got any business today made no difference to his life.
Rather than go out of his way to drum up business and wear himself out talking, he'd rather quietly slack off and enjoy life.
That was the right attitude to have toward life.
He even had time to use Psychokinesis to control the candy in his pocket from afar.
An orange-flavored lollipop floated out of his pants pocket by itself. Its plastic wrapper silently split open, and it flew straight into his slightly parted mouth.
The original flavor mingled with the orange's sweet tang, doubling the pleasure for his taste buds. He contentedly narrowed his eyes, radiating the carefree air of a lazy fish who wanted nothing to do with the world.
Time slipped quietly by.
Just as the warm sunlight was about to lull Lin Mu to sleep, a hesitant shadow appeared at the entrance to the tent, blocking some of the light.
The newcomer was a thin boy who looked a little older than Lin Mu, probably a second-year student.
His brows were knitted tightly together, his face clouded with worry, and his hands nervously gripped the hem of his shirt.
He paced back and forth in front of the stall, his steps hesitant. His gaze darted like a startled rabbit between the Tarot Cards on the table and Lin Mu's expressionless face.
He kept muttering something under his breath, clearly locked in an intense inner struggle.
After agonizing for a full three minutes, he finally seemed to make up his mind. He gritted his teeth and shuffled into the tent.
His voice was timid and uneasy. "C-classmate... Can you really... tell the future?"
Lin Mu lifted his eyelids and glanced at him casually.
Almost as soon as their eyes met, his Precognition activated, showing him a few key fragments of the boy's life in the days ahead.
They seemed to involve a chaotic team competition, arguments, regret, and isolation...
Combined with the "I'm in serious trouble" look practically written all over the boy's face, the situation was already clear.
With two lollipops in his mouth and his cheeks slightly puffed out, Lin Mu spoke in a lazy, nasal drawl, but with unmistakable certainty:
"Of course. Accurate predictions, without fail."
He paused, then added the most important rule of the deal. "Pay first, then I'll tell your fortune. One hundred thousand points per reading. If I'm wrong, I won't take a single point."
He even nodded toward the crystal ball in front of him and cracked a joke that sounded utterly ridiculous. "And if my prediction fails, I'll eat this ball right here."
(I'll eat this computer screen right here.)
"One hundred th-thousand?!" Sato Yuta—an upperclassman from Class 2-D—stared wide-eyed and sucked in a sharp breath.
One hundred thousand points! For a Class 2-D second-year student like him, who had to stretch his monthly allowance and budget every point, that was no small sum.
He looked at Lin Mu. With that lazy look, as if he might fall asleep at any moment, Lin Mu didn't seem like a reliable fortune-teller at all. He looked more like a new student who'd set up a stall out of boredom.
He'd only come because his worries had been eating away at him and he wanted to find somewhere to soothe his nerves... He didn't want to be a sucker and give his underclassman points for nothing!
"Th-that's way too expensive, isn't it?" Sato Yuta looked pained, his voice almost breaking. "Could you... lower it a little?
"I need to save my points, too... Five thousand? Would ten thousand work?"
At that, Lin Mu couldn't even be bothered to move an eyebrow. He simply raised one finger and lightly tapped the table, making a crisp "knock, knock" sound.
His tone was calm, but firm, leaving no room for haggling:
"Either pay for a reading or leave, senpai. If it's too expensive, turn right when you leave. The clubs over there can comfort you for free. Maybe you'll find what you're looking for.
"I only offer accurate predictions here. I don't do cheap tricks to fool people."
He knew exactly what he was doing.
For people genuinely troubled by a problem and desperate to find a way forward, an absurdly high price paired with absolute confidence could make them more likely to believe it might actually work than a low price would.
(People can be strange. They think cheap means low quality and expensive means it must be great, even though there's not much difference between the two.)
Besides, paying one hundred thousand points for a definite answer—and one that was actually true—was far more "worth it" than continuing to wear himself down with confusion and anxiety.
Sato Yuta bit his lower lip, his expression shifting back and forth.
He really had been pushed to the end of his rope. A few friends he usually got along with had asked him to join their team for the upcoming Business Simulation Competition.
But he had no confidence in himself at all and no relevant experience. He was terrified of dragging the team down, being mocked, or becoming a burden.
Still, he didn't dare refuse outright, afraid the group would exclude him and leave him even more isolated in class.
His mind was a panicked mess, so he'd gone out to clear his head and somehow wound up at this fortune-telling stall.
Now, looking at Lin Mu's indifferent expression—the very picture of "take it or leave it"—and thinking of the torment he was going through...
If he could really learn what was going to happen and avoid major trouble down the road, then one hundred thousand points... might... be worth it?
His heart was still bleeding, though.
In the end, fear of an unknown problem won out over reluctance to spend his points.
Before you continue