I Got My First Scroll and A Sweet Little Home

The saying that the world is smaller than you think applies in any world, I guess. Because when Aelira took me to meet the potential landlady… it turned out to be the old woman who sold me bread on my first day.

Aelira introduced her as Marla Mellowhearth.

The same kind soul who'd offered me free soup when I clearly looked like a walking disaster. A pleasant surprise, to say the least.

We stood inside the room I was meant to rent—not fancy or big, but clean and well-furnished. A comfy single bed sat near the corner, with a modest shelf beside it—perfect for books I might someday own. A small crystal lamp sat on the bedside table, glowing gently with warm yellow light.

One thing I'd noticed in my first two days: this world didn't use fire for indoor lighting. Instead, glowing yellow crystals lit homes, shops, inns, and even street posts. Honestly? Smart choice. Less chance of setting your house on fire by kicking over a lamp.

"So, do you like the place?" Marla asked.

"I'd say… I more than like it. So—twenty cens a week, right?"

It was fair. With three or four jobs a week, I could manage both rent and food. We shook on it.

"You can move in whenever you'd like," she said. "And don't worry about tonight—dinner's on me. And you better show up too, Aelira. You've gotten pretty weak."

She held Aelira's hand like a concerned mother.

Weak? I wouldn't agree there—but Aelira didn't seem to mind.

On the way here, she'd told me that Marla had lost her daughter and son-in-law some years ago. She now lived with her only granddaughter, a seven-year-old named Tilly.

Marla looked older than she probably was. Working all day at her food stall and raising a child alone… no wonder. Somehow, it felt good to know my money would help someone like her instead of lining the pockets of those greedy innkeepers.

"Well, I don't really have anything to move… so, consider me moved in. And here's the rent for the first week."

I pulled twenty coins from my satchel and passed them to Marla.

"And I'd love to meet Tilly over dinner."

"She's going to love you, Mr. Kaito!" Aelira beamed.

"Right, Mrs. Marla?"

"She sure will," Marla nodded warmly. "And thank you for the advance, Kaito. But don't worry if it's ever a little late. Aelira's like a daughter to me, and you're her first real friend around here… I'm glad she brought you."

There was no mistaking it—they shared a genuine bond. Probably one of the few people Aelira talked to more than she did me. Which was fine. I figured I'd give them some space to chat while I did something I'd been meaning to.

"If you ladies don't mind," I said, standing, "I'd like to step out for a bit while you enjoy your conversation."

"Yes, Mr. Kaito," Aelira said brightly. "We have a lot to catch up on. I'll help Mrs. Marla prepare the meal too."

"Ahh, you sweet girl," Marla cooed, pinching Aelira's cheek.

It was oddly cute, watching my elven bull of a companion get treated like a wide-eyed baby. But hey, deep down… she really was one.

I stepped outside. Marla's house wasn't far from the main market road, so it wouldn't take long to reach my next stop. The sun had begun to dip, and townsfolk were returning home. A few kids ran across the street, laughing and chasing each other. One of them might've been Tilly.

Hopefully, I'd meet her tonight.

I always liked kids. Even in my past life.

I hope she likes me too.

But for now… there was one last thing to do.

Time to finally visit that scroll shop.

Hopefully it's not closed yet.

***

The shop didn't look like much from the outside. I stood there staring at the faded paint and the worn-out nameplate—Burun's Scrolls and Bookstore—hanging loosely to the right of the entrance. But through the large, slightly smudged glass panes, I could see shelves packed to the brim with scrolls and books.

I pushed open the door, and a little bell chimed above my head. I looked up—sure enough, a small metal bell hung from the frame, still trembling from the impact.

"Welcome to the Burun's Scrolls and Bookstore, sir. My name's Burun. How may I help you?"

The voice came from behind the counter, and it belonged to a towering bear beastman wearing thin spectacles balanced perfectly on his wide snout.

I wasn't trying to be rude, but I froze.

A literal bear. Standing on two legs. Wearing a neatly pressed vest and speaking with better manners than most of my old coworkers. He looked like a walking plush toy version of a luxury hotel butler. Dark brown fur, kind eyes, and somehow… overly huggable.

And yes, this reaction was still after spending two days with an elven girl, being nearly gored by a horned boar, and getting isekai'd by a literal goddess.

But this? This one made to the top.

"How may I help you, sir?"

The voice came again, firmer this time. I realized I'd been staring long enough to make it awkward.

Time to switch on the good ol' corporate politeness or risk being booted out—and possibly sued for interspecies discrimination.

"My apologies, Mr. Burun. Just… taken aback by the professionalism. A rarity around here, I must say."

Nice save, Kaito. Good dodge.

"You may call me Kaito," I added quickly, "and I'm looking to buy some scrolls."

"Oh yes, please come along, Mr. Kaito."

Burun stepped out from behind the counter. I tried not to look, but curiosity got the better of me.

No shoes.

Just soft, furry paws.

Honestly? I approved. Guy was owning the look.

I didn't push my luck further and followed him as he led me through the aisles. And almost immediately—I regretted using the word scrolls in plural.

The shelves were lined with rows upon rows of scrolls. Beautiful, organized, enticing—and each one utterly out of budget. After the meal and rent, I had exactly 15 cens in my pocket.

That wouldn't even cover the dust on one of these.

Even the most common fireball scrolls—stacked like potatoes at a grocery store—cost 350 cens each. The high-tier rare ones, locked behind glass panels, looked like museum pieces, I could afford to see but not touch.

No wonder if people didn't go scroll shopping for fun.

I shifted to looking at the more niche options. Utility scrolls. Support skills. Even those were rough—Perception, Inventory, a literal barber skill scroll—each priced over 200 cens.

So unless this shop accepted human kidneys, I was walking out empty-handed.

"Well, Mr. Kaito… would you prefer any of these, or are you perhaps looking for decorative pieces?" Burun asked once we reached the end of the aisle.

Ah. The decorations.

Most people saw them as fancy paper art. But with Scholar's Insight, I could actually read them.

If they were priced by appearance, not function, maybe—maybe—there was a chance.

"Actually," I said, adjusting my voice into its most scholarly tone, "I'm a student of ancient languages. I'm studying Draconian, and that was my purpose in coming here. But since you led the way, I thought I'd follow."

Crisis management mode: activated.

"My apologies for not asking earlier," Burun said with a respectful bow. "Allow me to guide you to that section."

He led me to another aisle—just as tall, just as long—and filled with elaborate scrolls mounted in polished cases and metal stands.

And there went my dignity.

These scrolls were priced as generously as the rest. Only now, their worth was based entirely on aesthetics. The shinier the ruins, the cleaner the edges, the higher the price.

No one could read them—so people bought them like you'd buy a framed painting.

One scroll with decorative flames and gold lining—probably Fire Arrow spell scroll—was tagged at 150 cens. A simple wood carving skill scroll? 1,500 cens.

They weren't even functional to the average person.

But for me?

They were treasure chests.

That is… if I could afford even one of them.

Time to swallow the pride. Hard.

"Well, I guess they're simply out of my budget. I was hoping to find something to study—and since I'm not a noble collector, I don't think I should be spending so much on them," I said, my tone apologetic. "My apologies for wasting your precious time, Mr. Burun, and thank you for showing me around."

I didn't even wait for his response. I didn't want to see that classic look of a salesman who just wasted fifteen minutes showing off collector's pieces to a broke idiot.

"Wait… Mr. Kaito," Burun called from behind. "I might have something just for you. But only if you answer one question first."

I turned back with a smile. Not too hopeful, but maybe the guy genuinely wanted to help a fellow bookworm.

Sorry if I'm stereotyping a bookstore owner with glasses as a bookworm. Force of habit.

I waited for the question. And it wasn't what I expected.

"If I'm not stepping out of line," Burun said, adjusting his glasses, "may I ask where you're from, Mr. Kaito? I can tell you're not from Eastmere."

That was a first. No one had asked me that since I landed in this world.

The goddess had made it very clear: never reveal your origin. So no honesty here, even if I wanted to.

Good thing I remembered a few city names from the kingdom of Elarwyn…courtesy to the guidebook. And with my Corporate liar instincts to the rescue…

"I'm from a small farming village called Ravenswood," I said smoothly as I played naked in that imaginary village. "Just northeast of the city of Myrdale."

"Very well then. Please wait here for a moment."

He didn't explain why he asked. He just turned and walked into a back room behind the counter. Probably a storage area. When he returned, he carried a small wooden box and placed it gently on the counter.

"Come closer, Mr. Kaito," he said, dusting off the lid. "And forgive me if I came across as unprofessional. While I never mind a curious scholar or a paying customer… I would never step out of my way to help an Imperial bastard. Hence the question."

"No need to apologize," I replied, stepping closer to the box. "I dislike them myself."

Not that I fully understood why we were supposed to hate the Varelyon Empire, but if a polite, well-mannered shopkeeper like Burun used the word bastard—they must've earned it.

Anyway, I was just happy to still have a chance at walking out with something and I had zero concerns for the Empire lore…at least as of now.

Burun lifted the lid and set it aside. The box was stuffed with worn, rolled-up scrolls. He picked one up and carefully unrolled it.

It was Draconian, no doubt. The runes were faded, the parchment edges frayed and discolored. No shimmer, no enchantment. Just old, dull paper.

But I could read the words.

And I wasn't planning to frame them in a gold-trimmed palace—so these were exactly what I was looking for.

Assuming they didn't cost more than the rest of my budget—which, spoiler alert, wasn't much.

"Looks fine to me," I said cautiously. "But I'll be honest… I don't have much to offer."

Better to come clean now than suffer another embarrassment later.

"Well, good news for you," Burun said with a warm chuckle. "As you've likely guessed, these aren't usable scrolls. Nor are they pretty. I never get buyers for them. I'm not even sure how long they've been sitting in this box—or how many are inside. But I'll let them go for five cens. That's really just the value of the wooden box itself."

He smiled. "Not a profitable business move, but I like the look of a curious scholar in your eyes. Better to let someone use them than keep them gathering dust. Not like anyone can make sense of Draconian."

What the hell. I'd just hit the jackpot.

Part of me wanted to ask if I could return the box and get the scrolls for free… but best not to sound like a total leech.

Burun didn't have to do this. He probably thought I was just another young fool dreaming of deciphering the unreadable. He could've easily charged me more. I would've paid fifty or even hundred cens easily for that many—even if it meant waiting a few days.

But maybe… maybe the goddess had blessed me with another miracle: kind people at every turn.

Maelion. Lisa. Aelira. Marla.

And now Burun.

I could've cried if I wasn't keeping up the professional façade.

"Thank you so much, Mr. Burun. I truly appreciate the kindness. And trust me—I'll pay you back for this in the future."

"No need for all that, Mr. Kaito. You seem like a good young man. Who knows—you might just end up doing the impossible. And if you ever write a biography after finally achieving your goal, a small mention would be enough for me."

He laughed—a soft, honest laugh.

Beneath that sharp business look, he really was a teddy bear. I couldn't tell if he really thought I would be able to make use of them, or he just took pity. But he saved me a great trouble and a lot of cens for sure.

I handed over five cens. He packed the scrolls carefully, closed the box, and wished me good luck as I stepped outside.

I left the shop practically beaming, pacing toward home with light steps.

An entire box of Draconian scrolls for less than what we paid for two people's lunch.

Yeah.

I couldn't wait to go home and learn all kinds of skills and spells there are in that box.

****