Chapter 4: The first customer

Chapter 4: The first customer

After the incident yesterday, I returned home feeling… annoyed.

That was new for me. I wasn't someone who got irritated easily, but ever since I woke up in this body, I could feel my emotions shifting. It wasn't just me anymore—Silas's personality was bleeding into my own.

And I understood why.

Silas, in my novel, was prideful, arrogant, and quick to anger. I designed him that way because he was meant to be a minor antagonist before becoming an ally to the protagonist. His story was one of tragedy and redemption.

Born as a High Human, he should have been destined for greatness, yet his own clan looked down on him. He wasn't weak—not by ordinary standards—but compared to the monstrous talent of his people, his mana reserves were deemed lacking. A disappointment.

Neglected, scorned, abandoned.

His bitterness led him down a path of darkness. To spite his family, he rejected their sacred magic, choosing instead to master the forbidden arts—dark magic.

He sought power at any cost. And he got it.

But none of that mattered now.

He was just a character I had created.

And yet… now, I was him.

I exhaled sharply and leaned back in my chair, staring at the dimly lit interior of my shop. It had been an empty day—no customers, no curious visitors. Just silence.

I need to focus.

Getting a grip on my abilities was my priority. I had inherited all of Silas's knowledge, but my control over his powers was… shaky. I needed to train, to hone myself before any real threats appeared.

A sudden ringing sound pulled me from my thoughts.

The shop door creaked open. Footsteps approached the counter.

I looked up.

It was her.

The same girl from yesterday.

She stepped forward, confidence in her stride, her deep blue eyes studying me with a mix of curiosity and calculation.

"Hi," she greeted with a small smile. "I'm Janet. I saw your… advertisement yesterday, and I was curious if it was true."

Up close, she was striking. Long, dark hair framed her delicate features, and she carried herself with a grace that spoke of wealth and status. But more than that—there was something else.

A strange, familiar energy radiated from her.

I didn't recognize it, yet at the same time, I did.

I quickly pushed the thought aside and composed myself.

"Silas," I introduced myself smoothly. "I am the merchant who sells wonders. What do you desire?"

She hesitated slightly before speaking. "Well, I do need something… but can you prove to me that you're not just some scam ar—"

Snap.

I flicked my fingers.

A small orb of violet fire ignited in my palm, its ethereal glow casting flickering shadows across the shop.

The flames danced hypnotically, their color shifting subtly between shades of purple and blue. Then, with a flick of my wrist, I moved the fire closer to her face.

Janet instinctively tensed, her breath hitching—yet instead of painful heat, she felt warmth. Gentle, almost… welcoming.

Her eyes widened, captivated.

Then, with a simple motion, I closed my hand. The fire disappeared without a trace.

She blinked, snapping out of her trance.

"How was that for proof?" I asked, smirking slightly.

She exhaled, still processing what she had just seen. "…Yeah, that's fine."

I chuckled. "Now, what is it that you need?"

Her expression shifted—confidence giving way to something more vulnerable.

"…My father is sick," she said quietly. "No doctor can diagnose what's wrong with him. He's getting worse, and no one knows why."

Her crystal-blue eyes darkened with sorrow.

Desperation.

Fear.

I didn't know why, but seeing her like this made something in me twist.

"I can help," I said after a pause. "But I need to see him first. If regular medicine isn't working, then there's a chance it's something… unnatural."

Janet nodded firmly. "Then let's go. Right now."

She turned on her heel and strode toward the door without hesitation.

I followed, intrigued by her determination.

The moment we stepped outside, I was greeted by the sight of a sleek, black Maybach 57S parked by the curb.

A chauffeur, an older man in a clean-cut uniform, stood beside it. Seeing Janet, he inclined his head respectfully.

"Lady Janet," he greeted. "Is your business concluded?"

"Partially," she answered before gesturing toward me. "This is Silas. He's coming with us."

The driver glanced at me, his gaze sharp but unreadable. "…Ah, a Latin name?"

I arched a brow at his comment but said nothing.

Without further question, he opened the car door for us. Janet stepped in first, and I followed.

The interior was just as luxurious as I expected—black leather seats, polished wood finishes, and a faint scent of expensive cologne.

As the car smoothly pulled onto the road, I gazed out the window, watching Gotham's skyline shift as we headed toward the wealthier districts.

I rested my cheek against my palm and muttered under my breath,

"Kāda diena…"

("What a day…")

The city lights blurred past, and my mind raced with thoughts.

Something told me that this trip would be… interesting.

To Be Continued...