No Magic? No Problem.

I arrived at the old man's place just as the sun dipped behind the buildings, casting long shadows through the narrow streets. The door creaked as I pushed it open, the familiar scent of parchment and burning candle wax thick in the air. The old man didn't look up from his book.

"You're late," he muttered, turning a page.

I rolled my shoulders, stepping inside. "Didn't realize I was on a schedule."

He snorted. "You're not. But you should act like you are."

I ignored that and dropped into my usual spot. "Mana reinforcement. I need more control."

At that, he finally looked at me. His expression was the same as always—unimpressed, vaguely annoyed, but still watchful. He studied me like I was a puzzle missing half its pieces. "And you think saying that out loud will magically make you better?"

"No," I admitted, stretching my fingers. "That's why I'm here."