The mist before his eyes faded layer by layer, as though space itself were collapsing inward.
Ian's eyes snapped open.
In the cramped little bed, he shifted uncomfortably. Outside the window, the moonlight poured in, casting a silvery haze over the room.
A clock hung on the wall.
The hands pointed to 12:07. The second hand ticked on, steady and unrelenting.
He had been inside a dream so vivid, so surreal—and yet in the real world, only seven minutes had passed.
"Phew…"
Ian exhaled deeply, wiping away a sweat that didn't exist from his brow.
It wasn't physical—it was mental.
He recalled what had happened in the Limbo Mirage and instinctively glanced down at his hand. A faint, pale mark could be seen on the back of it.
The small room, lit only by moonlight, remained dim.
Ian sat up, walked to his desk, opened a drawer, and pulled out a small flashlight from among various handmade tools. Switching it on, he shone the beam on his arm and studied it closely.
"What is this?"
Ian inspected the gift his friend had given him with great curiosity.
A faint mark shimmered briefly before vanishing back into his skin.
He could take physical items into the dream and bring things back out—as he'd done with the chocolate for Ariana.
But what did this mark actually do?
Ian had no idea.
He opened his skill panel to check.
Name: Ian Prince
Class: Bloodline Warlock
Magic Power: Level 4
Skills:
Language Proficiency (Lv. 3): 23/400
Biological Dissection (Lv. 4): 796/800
Free Combat (Lv. 3): 85/400
Psychology (Lv. 6): 42/3200
Psychology Extraordinary Trait: Thought Perception
He felt a flicker of anticipation.
However—
There was no mention of the mark anywhere on the panel.
Then again, it made sense. This was a gift from a friend—it probably wasn't a "skill." Just like how his ability to enter the Limbo Mirage wasn't listed on the panel either.
Maybe he'd have to research it in the Hogwarts library someday? That place was supposed to be the most extensive knowledge repository in the magical world. Thinking this, Ian rubbed his arm lightly at the desk. Drowsiness soon overtook him, and he returned to bed.
Time flew by.
By the time the sun rose the next morning, Ian had already been at his desk for a while, reading through language textbooks.
[Successfully read a French word. Language Proficiency +1]
[Successfully read a Latin word. Language Proficiency +1]
[Successfully read a Latin word. Language Proficiency +1]
"Phew…"
Ian exhaled and rubbed his brows.
Learning languages wasn't easy. Every word had to be phonetically broken down and memorized—both pronunciation and meaning.
Still—
Hard work brought its rewards.
Language Proficiency (Lv. 3): 35/400 (+12)
A morning's practice had netted him 12 points of progress.
He was getting closer to unlocking the skill's extraordinary trait at level 5. Without access to spells yet, his options for useful skills were limited.
He just wondered—what kind of extraordinary trait would language unlock?
Filled with hopeful thoughts about the future—
Ian began his day.
After lunch—
He dragged his little cart to his usual spot and resumed his fortune-telling routine. Call it trickery if you like, but this kind of money-making scheme depended entirely on reading people.
Ian appeared to be fussing with tarot cards, but in truth, he relied on his self-taught psychology and the extraordinary trait Thought Perception to deduce what people were thinking.
To be honest—
Even real fortune-telling probably wasn't as profitable. Sometimes, people didn't want the truth—they wanted to hear what they needed to hear.
With Ian's loud, confident pitch—
Soon enough—
Another woman stopped by, curious and willing to try. Ian studied her clothes, her pauses between words, her facial expressions.
He already had a read on her.
So he said, as though reading her mind—
"Miss, you've been under a lot of stress lately."
His mystic tone made the woman nod calmly.
That wasn't a hard guess.
Ian smiled. "Is it about your academic situation?"
The woman looked surprised. "Oh—you're right."
Ian nodded. "Your advisor's causing you trouble. Graduation is near, but the way things are going, he's not going to let you pass easily."
The woman's mouth fell open. She stared in stunned silence for a moment before finally finding her voice. This time, it trembled with respect.
"Fortune-teller, you're right. What should I do?!"
[Successfully analyzed a psyche. Psychology Proficiency +1]
The skill had gained a point.
But Ian stayed calm. At this point, the customer was already well within his "trap."
With his mind-reading ability, he had a total grip on her psyche.
Still—he had principles.
"Miss, you may have to spend a bit of money. Try smoothing things over with the dean. It won't be easy, but… if you have a lucky charm with you, the Goddess of Fortune might smile upon you…"
The woman already trusted him completely. She looked at the many charms laid out before her and asked, "How much are they? Can I buy them all?"
She looked wealthy—more than he expected. A jackpot.
Ian answered smoothly, "Certainly. Each charm is just five pounds."
He laid out twenty hand-made charms on the table.
"I'll take them all! Twenty times the luck!"
After she bought all twenty charms and handed over a full £100—
Ian knew he'd hit the jackpot.
Those twenty so-called charms? Nothing more than slips of yellow paper with gibberish "lucky" words scribbled in English—basically the Western equivalent of talismans.
Still, Ian put on a solemn face and told her, "May the Goddess of Fortune bless you."
"Thank you!" the woman replied, hands clasped with devotion.
After she left—
Ian finally smiled.
"Looks like luck's on my side too. I'm done for the day. Might as well head home early."
One hundred pounds—real paper money with real value. That was a big deal in 1990, enough to cover nearly two months of living expenses.
"Time to pack up early…"
He stashed the money, folded up his stall, and on his way past a restaurant, went in and bought several servings of hot soup.
And just like that, pushing his cart, he returned to the orphanage.
"Wow, Ian, what's that?"
As soon as he arrived, the kids spotted all the food and began to drool.
Not just the little ones—even the older kids ran over.
"Hey, Ian!"
They greeted him, eyes locked on the hot pots, visibly holding back their desire to dig in.
Ian grinned, set the pots on the table, and said—
"Alright, everyone, grab some utensils—and wipe that drool off your faces!"
The group burst into laughter.
Soon, following Ian's instructions, they found plates and bowls and descended like a horde of locusts.
As they ate, someone said—
"Ian, I'm so jealous. You're going to a noble's school. Ms. Elena said the headmaster himself invited you!"
"Wow, I want to go too!"
"Tom, give it a rest. Ian studies on his own every day, reading all kinds of books! Do you?"
"A noble chose Ian because he's so smart!"
Hearing the conversation—
Ian was stunned for a moment. Noble school? But then he realized—this was the Confundus Charm at work.
He simply smiled and listened, replying now and then.
But then—
A girl's voice suddenly whispered beside him.
"Ian, I know you're not going to a noble school. You're going to Hogwarts. The white-bearded man said it's a school for magic that can turn things into fruit."
Ian froze, his thoughts scrambled.
He turned to look at the blonde girl beside him.
She looked conflicted and, when the others weren't watching, spoke to Ian in a pleading tone.
Her eyes were filled with longing.
Suddenly—
It was as if a switch flipped in Ian's mind. His ears buzzed, and in that hum, he heard the girl's desperate inner voice:
"I want to go to Hogwarts too! I want to learn the magic that makes fruit appear! Then I'll be the Fruit Princess!"
Ian shook his head.
The voice vanished.
That was the power of Thought Perception. Occasionally, he could hear someone's deepest, most urgent desire.
At that moment—
The children were all happily eating, but the girl's eyes still burned with longing.
Ian quickly realized—this girl might have magical talent. The Confundus Charm hadn't affected her.
That had to be it. Otherwise, Dumbledore's magic wouldn't have slipped up.
"Can I go too, Ian?"
The girl's voice trembled with hope.
Ian finally recovered from the shock and smiled calmly. "Of course, Catherine. But you'll have to be good—and keep it a secret for now."
"Hogwarts only accepts well-behaved children."
The blonde girl named Catherine was thrilled and looked ready to cheer.
Ian quickly stopped her. "Catherine—remember, this is a secret."
Catherine immediately covered her mouth. "I'm a good girl! I won't tell! Even if Matron breaks my legs, I won't tell!"
Ian: "..."
Later that night—
In the orphanage kitchen—
Ian was at work with a knife, cleaning and preparing chickens and ducks.
Two chefs beside him kept praising him. "Thanks for helping out again, Ian. You really save us so much time."
The kids needed protein. Meat was a must.
Ian came to help every evening.
That was how—
[Successfully butchered a chicken. Biological Dissection +1]
[Successfully butchered a duck. Biological Dissection +1]
[Successfully butchered a duck. Biological Dissection +1]
—that skill had progressed so steadily.
But tonight—
[Ding! Congratulations, Biological Dissection has reached full proficiency and leveled up.]
[Biological Dissection (Lv. 5): 1/1600]
[Congratulations, skill has reached level 5. Extraordinary Trait unlocked…]
(End of Chapter)