Lanen opened an ordinary-looking wooden box beside him. Though unremarkable, the box was polished smooth and coated with varnish.
Gazing at the neatly arranged relay runes lying on the cheap velvet inside, he reached in and took out two.
The mass-produced runes carried the uniformity characteristic of industrial manufacturing. Whether it was the intricate mechanical structure or the swirling magical patterns, they all exuded reliability.
Lanen pulled out a thin rune substrate, picked up a brown glass bottle of magical potion from the corner of the table, unscrewed it, dipped a pen inside, and began carefully drawing.
Once the drawing was complete, he used a hole-punching tool—a free gift from purchasing student-test relay runes—to make holes at predetermined positions. Then, inserting the two relay runes, Lanen completed a pre-designed magical circuit on paper.
Twirling the substrate with the drawn circuit in his hand and examining his work, Lanen ultimately refrained from violating the rules by channeling magic into it.
Since securing sufficient funds, his private practice sessions during this period had deepened his understanding of magical circuits and runes, but he had also hit a bottleneck.
—Magic power, akin to electricity from another world in its flow properties, was gentler, subtler, and more dangerous.
Thus, overly complex homemade magical circuits were explicitly banned at school. Research and drawing were permitted, but connecting magic power was not. The complexity threshold was set at ten—a simple, blunt rule, harshly enforced.
After all, magical runes remained dangerous.
Fortunately, in modern times, most magic arrays had long been obsolete due to arcane arts, while clearly functional and potent magical runes reigned supreme. Mages no longer needed to shield themselves while drawing arrays; they could simply sketch runes on substrates, then connect energy sources to the circuits under safety protocols for testing, customizing functions as desired.
Yet, incorrect connections or drawings still carried significant risks.
For a laboratory, minor explosions, accidents, or fires were normal occurrences, and injuries to researchers were merely "common minor incidents." The only silver lining was that, due to such circumstances, laboratory management rules and experimental protocols were continuously refined under the Mage Association's push, promising a significant reduction in accident rates in the near future.
Thus, Lanen fully understood the school's zero-tolerance policy, as current conditions couldn't provide adequate experimental spaces. Rumor had it, however, that the newly acquired land by the principal would see a more advanced West Campus: not just labs and a larger library, but also a swimming pool.
For now, further research required safer environments.
It was time to relocate, Lanen thought.
...
From a distance, the cracks between roadside cobblestones seemed tinged with green, but up close, traces of sprouting grass were hard to find.
A gentle breeze brushed against his face, warm and familiar.
Lanen wandered aimlessly down the street. West Street held no answers for him, nor did he wish to bother little Abel, much less seek help from local acquaintances Elina or Sophia. He chose to venture farther alone, hoping for luck while clearing his mind.
Observing the budding tree branches and the gradually thinning layers of passersby, Lanen felt his heart—parched from recent busyness—moistening slightly.
Just then, a group of people hurried past, handing out leaflets while briskly moving along.
The leader looked somewhat familiar.
But Lanen couldn't place him at all.
A leaflet was thrust into Lanen's hands, accompanied by a soft "Thank you."
Shaking open the cheaply printed paper, he found slogans and a notice:
"We work 14 hours, yet barely feed ourselves."
"Our labor's fruits are taken, leaving us with nothing."
"Fellow laborers, unite!"
"Kind souls, raise your voices against injustice!"
"Workers of this city will hold a peaceful strike on February 5, demanding higher wages and reduced workloads—fighting for what we deserve. We urge all to join.
All for one, one for all.
—The Laborers' Party, Lorenzan Branch"
Looking up, Lanen saw the distributors vanish as quickly as they'd appeared, darting away with remaining leaflets.
A glance around confirmed he was near the Solihar Factory—he'd wandered farther than usual, hence the encounter. Sympathy stirred within him; he knew well that gains came only through struggle. A 14-hour workday and wages barely covering a single meal were hardly humane.
Clutching the leaflet, Lanen suddenly smacked his forehead. He turned and bought a newspaper from a stand.
How could he have forgotten to check the papers?
Flipping through, he found what he sought nestled among dense obituaries and job ads in the margins—tiny messages reaching out to every reader:
"Room for rent on Green Parrot Street, short/long term. Contact Mr. Theseus at 5 Henry Street."
"Room for rent on Black Breadfruit Street, long term only. Contact Mrs. Porter at 14 Henry Street."
"..."
Folding the paper into his satchel and adjusting his pointed hat, Lanen shielded his eyes to orient himself before heading toward Henry Street.
The walk wasn't short.
He intended to rent a place and wanted to survey options first.
For first- and second-year students at the初级奥法学校, renting was rare, though more common among upperclassmen.
Henry Street was pristine, sparsely populated, and well-landscaped—clearly a respectable neighborhood where residents were at least middle-class.
Checking house numbers: 1... 2... 3... 4... Next was 5.
Outside No. 5 stood a carriage, from which a well-dressed elderly gentleman was alighting.
Approaching politely, Lanen asked, "Excuse me, sir. Is this Mr. Theseus's residence?"
Leaning on his cane, the man paused, adjusted his bowler hat's brim, and studied Lanen. "I am Theseus. How may I help you?"
"I'm a student at Atlantia Arcane Academy," Lanen replied promptly. "I saw your rental ad in the paper and came to inquire. Do you have a room available?"
Mr. Theseus brightened immediately. "Ah, yes indeed! Welcome, welcome. Shall we go see it now?"
"Certainly, sir," Lanen agreed readily.
"Splendid. The vacant room is just nearby—very close. Let's walk together. Turn right at the intersection ahead, then right again after a short distance."
Propping his cane against his palm, Theseus tapped steadily forward and beckoned:
"Follow me."