The Eternal Wager 9

As the saying went, from Muggles he came, and to Muggles he returned.

Ian was exactly like that.

He had originally lived in a Muggle orphanage, and in his previous life, he had been a genuine Muggle too. His understanding and acceptance of the Muggle world were frighteningly high.

One could even say—

Judging by his way of thinking—

Ian was simply a Muggle who could do magic.

So—

Naturally, he fit right in.

He paused for a while in front of a stall selling old cassette tapes. The vendor was a young man in a leather jacket with messy hair, bobbing his head to punk music playing from a portable recorder. Ian was not particularly picky about music, but he felt that this raw energy had a distinct sense of the era. "They're all antique treasures. You won't see much of this in the future." Feeling a little thirsty, Ian's sharp eyes spotted a cart selling hot chocolate and hot cider.

So the boy went over and bought himself a large cup of hot chocolate.

The thick, sweet drink warmed his hands and drove away the chill of the flea market. He continued to wander leisurely as he took small sips.

"I think I finally understand how those protagonists feel when they browse street stalls and stumble upon hidden treasures." In a corner of the market, an especially crude, even somewhat shabby little stall caught Ian's attention.

It was nothing more than an old blanket, washed nearly white and worn around the edges, spread neatly across the cold ground. On it lay a carefully arranged collection of handicrafts. Their materials were simple, even rough—little animals such as rabbits, bears, and puppies knitted from colorful yarn. Their shapes were clumsy, but they had an undeniable charm.

There were also pictures