The Day of Reopening

On the day of the June Festival, the weather was clear and sunny as usual—a perfect day for strolling and relaxing.

Suddenly, a thunderous roar shook the air.

People throughout the city—no, throughout the entire Eastern Territory—could not help but look up at the azure sky. They saw a thundercloud rapidly gathering and forming above Cecilia City, pressing down toward a spot in the city like a giant tornado.

Yet, this massive, imposing cloud brought not a single drop of rain. Instead, the continuous rumbling of thunder carried a rhythm, gradually joined by a harmony resembling the turning of gears, as if it were a piece of music.

Amidst this grand symphony, dazzling electric light flickered, as if an alchemist were repeatedly forging that layer of clouds. Finally, the mountain-sized, pitch-black cloud was synthesized into a set of golden gears.

These gears rotated in the sky, with countless chains hanging down from them, extending toward the skies above every road and covering the entire Eastern Territory like some sort of beacon.

"What is that?!" someone couldn't help but ask.

Unfortunately, few could explain it; even the elders in the city claimed they had never seen such a spectacle.

Only the long-lived races hidden among the crowd couldn't help but laugh at the sight.

"Isn't that the sign for the Magic Gear Shop? After all these years, it's still the same—"

"Chuunibyou!"

Angell stared at the gears spinning incessantly above the workshop and remarked.

This sign had originally been tucked away in the deepest part of the warehouse. Even Mithril hadn't remembered it; it was Angell who, for some reason, recalled that there used to be a special celebration ceremony during the Magic Gear Shop's anniversaries, so he had dug it out.

However, even Angell hadn't expected this thing to have such a grand presence.

Never mind the entire street; the whole city, the entire Eastern Territory, and perhaps even the entire kingdom knew about it—given the current speed of information flow, the newspapers across the kingdom would likely report on this.

Angell couldn't help but grumble, "This isn't an Alchemy Workshop sign; it's practically the prelude to the arrival of dark forces!"

"I warned you long ago. The period when this sign was manufactured happened to be during the Demon Race War, when everyone loved things that were grand and filled with a sense of destiny," Mithril said. "It is indeed a bit exaggerated now. Should we take it down?"

Though Mithril said this, it didn't move. It looked at the sign, its gaze clearly filled with nostalgia.

Angell was only venting.

He shook his head with a smile: "Why take it down?"

"This kind of chuunibyou is the most eye-catching."

*

The effect of the Chuunibyou Gear was indeed excellent.

At the very least, Sir Mandela was drawn in by the gears in the sky.

"What is that?" he asked his servant.

His servant hurried off to inquire and returned to report: "That set of gears is located directly above an Alchemy Workshop; it appears to be the shop's sign."

"An Alchemy Workshop?" Sir Mandela shook his head and laughed. "I suppose only in a backwater place like this would such an antique, existing only in stories, still be found!"

But he then asked, "What kind of workshop is it?"

"It seems to be called 'Magic Gear'," the servant hesitated, then cleverly recalled what he had seen in the newspaper a few mornings ago: "The local tabloid reported that this workshop is one of the oldest in the city. It went through some trouble recently, is about to reopen, and has launched new products..."

As the servant spoke, he saw his master ring the bell to summon the maids, ordering them to help him change.

This was clearly preparation for going out.

The servant was shocked. "Sir, are you interested in that workshop?"

It was no wonder the servant was so stunned; his master was notoriously known for hating "old things."

This Sir Mandela hailed from Xiesse, a place known as the "City of Freedom" and a "Trade City." His family once owned "Iron Puppet," one of the top ten old theaters in Xiesse.

But thirty years ago, when Sir Mandela was seventeen, a small, unknown company from the Royal Capital came to Xiesse to recruit actors, claiming they wanted to film something called a "movie." At the time, all the theaters looked down on this company, but Sir Mandela provided help and subsequently acquired them, establishing his own production studio and entertainment company.

By now, "Iron Puppet" was one of the largest entertainment companies on the entire continent.

However, Sir Mandela was clearly not satisfied with his achievements; he felt his influence was not yet broad enough.

"What kind of skill is it to only have influence in cities like Xiesse, Seyekin, and Sensenata? Nowadays, railways are spread everywhere like spiderwebs, and the world is visibly shrinking. It is time to let those bumpkins see a new type of art! Only those who seize the opportunity can win the market!" Sir Mandela declared with great ambition.

He had chosen Cecilia City as his first target.

To the people of the emerging city of Xiesse, every city other than the Free City was a backwater, and the magic city of Cecilia was the most stubborn of all. Yet, this stubborn old relic was extremely influential in the backward and isolated border regions (though to the people of Xiesse, everywhere but Xiesse was a border region). If he could open the gates of Cecilia, it would be equivalent to developing a new market.

Therefore, Sir Mandela had come to Cecilia this time to conduct market research.

He had brought a few carefully selected classic movies, especially the one showing tonight, a big-budget production that cost tens of thousands of gold, and he was prepared to conquer the people of Cecilia on this June Festival night.

But before the movie could even be shown, Cecilia had given Sir Mandela a fright.

"Alchemy workshops or whatever don't matter, but this sign is quite interesting!" Sir Mandela stroked his chin, gazing at the gears in the distant sky. "Buying an antique occasionally isn't bad."

If he could acquire the technology behind this sign, he wouldn't need to fight other entertainment companies for advertising space. He could just toss a trailer into the sky before a movie premiered, and all the theater chains would be his!

But then again, maybe not.

The most annoying thing about magic technology was that its usage was heavily restricted!

If it were a problem that could be solved with just mana or money, it would merely be a matter of cost. But if it involved some hellish bloodline, contract, or conditional restriction, then there would be no need to even apply for a patent; one would simply have to wait for the chosen one capable of pulling the Sword in the Stone to use it.

Sir Mandela had his servant prepare the carriage and drove toward the area beneath the giant golden gears.

It was indeed an Alchemy Workshop promotional event.

Petals and colorful bubbles danced along Heroes Street. Colorful parasols and seats were set up by the entrance, and cute Cat Waiters trotted through the crowd on their tiptoes, busily handing out flyers to confused guests drawn in by the gears.

"As expected of the Magic Capital! These waiters are quite a novelty."

Sir Mandela offered a rare word of praise.

Even in Xiesse, known for its tolerance toward all races, one would never see such a fairytale-like scene.

However, the local residents of Cecilia City who happened to pass by Sir Mandela heard this and wore complicated expressions.

A novelty, you say?

We locals of Cecilia find it quite a novelty ourselves!

Even in this Magic Era, it was rare to find a shop that used magical cats as waiters!

Sir Mandela was unaware of the locals' sentiments. To him, while the Cat Waiters were cute, they were merely a gimmick. What truly caught his attention was the golden gear sign hanging above.

Having satisfied his curiosity at the entrance, he headed inside the Alchemy Workshop.

As he walked, Sir Mandela instructed his Servant, "Find out where the Workshop Master is and book a time with him. Tell him we wish to..."

Mandela's words trailed off halfway.

He stared blankly ahead. In the center of the workshop's hall, which was as spacious as a palace, sat a massive arena. Inside, a beautiful girl was locked in a fierce battle with a ferocious White Wolf. She swung her Magic Wand repeatedly, raining down blood-red magical attacks like sharp blades toward the center of the ring. The White Wolf roared, dodging the strikes while firing off beams of white light.

If this were merely a standard fight, Sir Mandela would not have thought twice about it.

In the underground black markets of Xiesse, there were countless bloody and brutal duels where the wealthy waved their money around, treating humans like mere animals for their amusement.

Although Sir Mandela looked down on such behavior, he had long since grown accustomed to it.

What truly shocked Mandela was that neither the beautiful girl nor the White Wolf was real.

Their "art style" differed from that of living creatures; they had been stylized and specially polished, making their movements more aesthetic. They even possessed comical quirks—the girl would pull a disgusted, long-suffering face when splattered with blood, while the White Wolf would let out an exaggerated howl after being injured. This made the struggle seem less cruel and, instead, somewhat ridiculous.

Was this a pre-designed Magic Projection?

A show prepared specifically for the guests?

Sir Mandela wondered curiously.

As he pondered, the White Wolf slammed into the girl's waist. The red bar above the girl's head instantly dropped to zero; she let out a mournful sigh and vanished into bubbles, while the White Wolf struck a pose and let out a victorious howl.

Simultaneous with that howl, a youth's voice rang out:

"I won!"

Only then did Sir Mandela notice two small platforms on either side of the arena, resembling witness stands in a courtroom. Two boys stood inside them; one let out a shout of excitement, while the other protested, "I was just careless! One more round!"

This remark drew a chorus of boos.

Another Youth impatiently pulled the protesting boy out of the position:

"It's my turn next!"

He said this as he pressed his hand onto the buttons, and the beautiful girl who had just exited reappeared in the center of the arena.

"So, it's controlled by the audience?"

Sir Mandela realized with a start. He had intended to offer a few words of praise for this Magic Item, much like he had for the cats, but he paused, suddenly feeling that something was amiss.

Mandela carefully scanned the "audience" gathered around the arena, and his expression turned grave.

"Return to the Cinema at once!" Sir Mandela said solemnly. "While there is still time, have them replace the Hero Leo: Awakening of the Monsters promotional posters with Romance of C, and try to adjust the schedule to show more of C!"

"But, Hero is the one we've been pushing hard these past few days..."

"Do you think any of the men in Cecilia will have the mood to step into a cinema tonight?"

Sir Mandela gestured toward the eager men surrounding the arena and asked helplessly.