Who Is It?
A mage who mistook the room? Exhausted from long hours of research and got the rooms mixed up? Yoahim shook his head. No way.
If it was just a mix-up, they wouldn't move so stealthily and cautiously. Why would someone sneaking into their own room creep around like a thief?
Yoahim slowly rose from the bed and walked toward the door. Judging by the attempt to pick the lock, this was someone with shady intentions. Who could harbor ill will toward him? Gregorius? Had he somehow learned the truth about the book and come to steal it while Yoahim slept?
No.
Ha Meks Han was an ancient grimoire used by black mages. If Gregorius really wanted it, he could've seized it legally using his position as chairman of the Kalsara Council. No way he'd stoop to sneaky rat-like behavior.
Then who?
Yoahim got out of bed and crept slowly toward the door. The clicking grew more frantic. Whoever it was, the door would open soon. He clenched his fists and waited.
The door creaked open slowly, and someone stepped inside. As they poked their head in, Yoahim swung without hesitation.
Crack!
The intruder's head snapped back. Seizing the moment, Yoahim grabbed their collar and hurled them deep into the room with all his might—a feat possible only thanks to his insane strength stat relative to his level.
The intruder flew onto the bed, crashed off it, and slammed their head against the wall. A loud thud echoed, but no one came running. The other mages must be too buried in research to use this area.
The intruder lay sprawled on the floor, utterly still. No twitch. Either knocked out or dead.
"No way they're dead."
If so, he'd have gotten EXP. This one was still alive. Yoahim conjured a flame with mana and lit the lamp. The room brightened, revealing the intruder's face.
"Genie?"
Yoahim blinked in surprise. The face was battered from the punch, but it was unmistakably Genie—Lawrence's apprentice and novice mage. Why the hell would he break into Yoahim's room?
Some urgent message from Lawrence? If so, he'd have knocked. No need to pick the lock.
Genie had ulterior motives. Stealing the grimoire? Nah. No way a punk like him heard about it from Gregorius or Lilith.
"Hm?"
Yoahim spotted something clutched in Genie's hand. A glass vial filled with clear liquid—suspicious as hell. He reached out to check it.
◈ It's diarrhea medicine. The effect is tremendous.
"Ha, what a clown."
Genie, sneaking in late at night with diarrhea meds in hand. His plan was obvious: spike the water pitcher on the table and make Yoahim suffer. So stupid it was laughable. Pathetic people get pathetic revenge.
Yoahim pondered how to punish this idiot. Then an idea hit.
"Yeah, this guy's perfect for..."
He pulled Ha Meks Han from his inventory. Genie was out cold and wouldn't remember a thing. Even if he noticed a missing skill, who would believe him? Not Gregorius, not Lawrence—especially with Lilith around. His words would be dismissed as lies.
Plus, Genie was caught breaking in. If word got out, he'd be the one in trouble. In other words, he couldn't fight back even if Yoahim stole his skill.
"Soul Theft."
Steals one magic skill from target Genie.
Target's possessed skills: Magic Missile, Fire Arrow, Shield…
True to his "talented mage" rep, Genie had a bunch of basic spells.
"Magic Missile? Got the ring for that. Fire Arrow? Staff covers it. Shield's useful, but not essential..."
Scrolling the list, Yoahim paused.
…Sleep, Grease, Blink.
Sleep was a sleep spell, Grease slicked the ground to hinder foes. Blink? Instant short-range teleport. Simple, powerful—especially for a Dark Knight with no mobility, stuck running everywhere. Ranged infantry needed blink.
"This one!"
No contest. Sleep and Grease were handy, but Yoahim was a Dark Knight, melee-focused. A skill to close gaps instantly? Gold.
"Steal Blink."
Acquired target's Blink skill.
Yoahim pumped his fist with a quiet cheer. He scanned for a clear spot and positioned himself.
"Blink."
Whoosh!
His body vanished, reappearing instantly. He nearly faceplanted into the wall from bad distance control, then tilted his head back.
"Ah, so that's the feel."
One try, and he got the hang of it. Mana cost was the issue, though. One use drained a chunk. Manageable with Ha Meks Han and oak staff, but with a sword? Maybe a few casts max.
"Gotta find mana-boosting gear."
He knew where—played this game to death.
"Later. First, this punk."
Genie still out. His revenge was lame, but the intent was real. Yoahim would collect in full. He nodded to himself and dragged the unconscious Genie to the corner. Leave him till dawn, then haul to Lawrence.
"Might as well tidy inventory while I wait for morning."
A few hours left. Couldn't sleep with Genie there—he might bolt. Yoahim sorted items, checked stats, and watched dawn creep in.
Rising from bed, he nudged Genie's face.
"Ugh... uuu..."
"Hey, wake up."
"Wh-what?!"
Genie jolted awake, saw Yoahim, and paled. Instinct screamed trouble.
"Hey, where's your master's room?"
"Huh?"
"Where's Lawrence's room?"
Genie's face went ashen. Freshly chewed out yesterday—another scandal today? Disaster.
"W-wait!"
"Wait my ass. Don't wanna say? I'll ask around."
Yoahim dragged him out. Downstairs, Merilda sorted papers. She beamed at Yoahim, then frowned at Genie.
"Uh... what happened?"
"Nothing big. Where's Lawrence's room?"
"Sixth floor..."
"Thanks. Let's go."
"Noooo! Merilda! Help! Please!"
Genie wailed as Yoahim yanked him along. Merilda tilted her head—definitely not nothing.
Up to six via lift, Yoahim found the door quick. Two knocks; a voice called enter.
"Hm? You? And Genie?"
Lawrence snapped his book shut. He squinted, frowning.
"...Something happened."
Genie flinched at the sigh.
"So, Yoahim. What is it?"
"Simple: this idiot broke in and tried spiking my water with this."
"Is that true, Genie?"
"N-no! I just got the wrong room!"
"You don't pick locks for a mix-up."
Genie's mouth shut at Yoahim's icy tone. No defense.
"Yoahim, I trust you as I trust my apprentice. Can you prove every word true?"
Why's that my job? Yoahim clicked his tongue inwardly.
"See the vial? Tower crest. I just arrived yesterday—no time to get it. Tower stuff isn't for just anyone."
Lawrence nodded.
"Sneaking in at night with that? Suspicious. Even if wrong room, why carry diarrhea meds to drink yourself?"
Another nod.
Yoahim drove it home: "Great mages discern truth with mystic power, right? Use it on us if you doubt."
Lawrence groaned, sighed habitually.
"No, I believe you. Genie's been my disciple since childhood—talented. But it poisoned him. Arrogant from his gifts. I knew it'd bite him someday. Like now."
Genie couldn't meet his eyes, ashamed.
"But as master, I must scold harshly and protect with mercy. So, let's keep this our secret. He's a green punk, but my disciple. Sounds ridiculous, but raising him right is my duty."
"And my compensation?"
Favors go both ways. Yoahim deserved his cut.
"This."
Lawrence opened a small wooden box, pulled out a plain silver ring, no frills.
Yoahim hadn't checked stats yet, but good options for sure.
"That's the price?"
"Yes. Looks ordinary, holds mystic power."
Could push more, but enough. Corner a rat too hard, it bites the cat. Lawrence was a tiger—push too far, get eaten.
"Graciously accepted."
"Keep today's secret till death. Anyone else know?"
"Merilda saw us together, but not details."
"I'll handle her."
"Understood. Sorry to bother early."
"I'm the sorry one. Farewell."
Yoahim bowed and turned. He shot Genie a glare. The pale punk didn't notice.
Punk, thank your master you're breathing.
Now, out and check the loot.
Post-haul steps always light. Yoahim grinned, leaving Lawrence's room.