Before long, it was the next day.
The spring sun was warm and gentle, shining through the dormitory window and casting cozy patches of light across the wooden floor.
Linmu Fujimiya had an original Alpenliebe lollipop between his lips, and still wore his usual sleepy, languid expression.
With both hands, he carried the bag of fortune-telling props he had neatly packed away yesterday, leisurely ambling toward the plaza where the clubs were recruiting new members.
He wasn't setting up shop today because he was short on points. His account held a solid million-point fortune, enough to squander for quite a while.
The main reason was to keep the "Divination Immortal" name alive. Reputation was like rowing upstream: if you didn't push forward, you fell behind.
The start-of-term club recruitment period drew dense crowds, making it the golden opportunity to keep building popularity and bolstering his reputation.
If he made the most of this wave of attention and kept reminding people he was around, then even if he only set up shop now and then afterward, he wouldn't have to worry about curious "kindred spirits (and their points)" seeking him out.
A steady trickle of points earned without lifting a finger—that was what would make his lazy life all the more comfortable and carefree.
He reached yesterday's spot, a relatively quiet corner at the edge of the plaza—though it wouldn't stay quiet for long.
Lin Mu set down the bag without even bending much at the waist.
His fingertips twitched almost imperceptibly, and Psychokinesis sprang into action like a pair of nimble, invisible hands.
There was a soft, orderly series of "pop" and "click" sounds as the folding tent's supports sprang out. It quickly opened and locked into place.
The folding table unfolded smoothly, all four legs settling firmly on the ground.
The exquisite velvet box containing the Tarot Cards and the Crystal Ball—with its black velvet base—floated out of the bag by themselves and landed precisely on the dark cloth covering the tabletop.
Even the little blackboard that read, "Tarot Card Reading—100,000 points per reading; Crystal Ball Clairvoyance—150,000 points per reading.
No haggling. Pay first, reading second," floated up and stood steadily at the very front of the stall, where everyone passing by could see it at a glance.
The whole process was smooth and effortless. In little more than ten seconds, a professional-looking and mysterious fortune-telling stall had been set up, as if invisible servants had been working for him.
Only then did Lin Mu slowly sit down on his little stool, shifting into the most comfortable position, legs casually crossed, the plastic stick of his lollipop swaying gently with each breath.
He still looked like the very picture of ultimate laziness: if he could sit, he wouldn't stand; if he could lie down, he wouldn't sit.
The quiet at the stall didn't last long, though.
Yesterday, Sato Yuta had arrived looking "down in the dumps and left overjoyed"—a living advertisement in himself.
Then several second- and third-year students had gotten readings and raved about how astonishingly precise the predictions were. His reputation had already spread like ink dropped into clear water.
The first-years who had hesitated yesterday because they had limited points seemed to have reached an unspoken agreement today. Another day had passed, they were more familiar with the campus, and they felt more confident about "spending," so they all began gathering around.
(You know the cafeteria has free salad so you won't starve, and you're still going to live like emperors at the start of the month and eat dirt by the end?)
Many students had also come all the way from the dorms and classroom buildings after hearing the news, including quite a few upperclassmen.
In no time, the previously empty area in front of the stall was packed tight with people. Heads bobbed in the crowd, and chatter rose and fell all around them.
The buzz was even bigger than yesterday. The stall had become one of the most eye-catching attractions in the Club Recruitment Plaza.
"This is the place! The white-haired fortune-teller!"
"I heard he's incredibly accurate! He can even tell you what color your crush likes!" (What kind of freaky senior-sister divination is that?)
"Really? One hundred thousand points per reading... That's so expensive."
"It costs a lot because it's worth a lot! Yesterday, a senior from the economics course got a reading about her group assignment, and he even predicted who in the group would slack off and who'd end up arguing!" (What kind of bizarre gossip is that, little bro?)
"Get in line! No pushing!"
Leaning back on his stool, Lin Mu seemed oblivious to the commotion around him, his lollipop spinning in his mouth.
He naturally welcomed any customers who came his way, but his attitude remained the same: a by-the-book routine of "draw a card (or choose the Crystal Ball), interpret the results, collect payment." He didn't waste a single word on small talk, let alone try to enthusiastically sell anyone on a reading.
Every so often, a wealthy third-year senior girl—perhaps troubled by romance?—
would grit her teeth and choose the pricier Crystal Ball Clairvoyance. Lin Mu accepted the payment without fuss, gazed at the Crystal Ball for a moment with a show of seriousness, then delivered a few "predictions" that were just as accurate. (What a rip-off! How is this any different from Tarot Cards? There is a difference, bro—this way, your hands are free.)
He used Psychokinesis to subtly control the order of every Tarot Card drawn, making sure each spread matched the key future moments he had glimpsed through Precognition that were relevant to the visitor.
Then he took into account the slight changes in the person's expression and tone as they asked their question, as well as the surface-level anxieties or hopes he picked up in an instant through Telepathy.
With just a few words, he often hit the nail on the head, even pointing out details that no one else knew—and that the visitor hadn't even mentioned themselves.
Everyone whose fortune he told looked shocked when he got it right, then broke into amazement and belief. Most left excitedly sharing their incredible experience with the people in line.
The name "Divination Immortal" spread like wildfire throughout the club recruitment area and across every year group.
Even students in their second and third years who had no interest in fortune-telling had heard about the amazing white-haired first-year from Class D.
Of course, there were occasional voices of doubt. Some thought the prices were outrageous; others didn't believe in the supernatural at all.
Lin Mu couldn't even be bothered to raise an eyelid, let alone waste his breath arguing.
Those whose fortunes had come true with startling accuracy would clear things up for him of their own accord. Some even shared "proof" of how closely the reading matched what had happened in real life.
After a few rounds of that, the doubters quickly fell quiet, replaced by an even stronger curiosity and urge to give it a try.
The line in front of the stall grew longer and longer, winding like a snake.
Business was so absurdly brisk that even the club stalls nearby, which usually drew crowds with performances and trial activities, seemed deserted by comparison.
Watching the commotion around Lin Mu's stall, several club leaders could only sigh with envy to themselves.
While mechanically repeating his customer routine, Lin Mu glanced out of the corner of his eye at the points balance steadily ticking upward on his terminal screen.
His expression remained unchanged, but he silently calculated his "hours worked" and "hourly wage," figuring he could probably call it a day soon and head back for a nap.
He was in the middle of interpreting Tarot Cards for a nervous-looking third-year senior girl, who wanted to know whether she would pass an important professional certification exam,
when a faint, unusual disturbance rose from the edge of the crowd, different from the usual bustle of people waiting in line.
The chatter around them seemed to be choked off by an invisible hand and died down. A subtle silence rippled outward.
Two figures slowly made their way through the crowd, which parted automatically, and approached the stall.
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