Bracken Veil (2): Bloodlines and the Back-Alley Deal
Wizards. Born with immense magical power, granted from birth the insight to read the flow of all things and pierce the secrets of the cosmos. Their origins are unclear, but in the modern magical world, they are thought to descend from the nephilim—hybrids of ancient gods who once walked the earth and humans.
Back in the era when this land brimmed with vital energy, even as countless people wielded that energy and displayed their valor, only a rare few could perform miracles that shook the laws of the world. They firmly believed their innate power stemmed from their bloodlines.
The Great Ten Families. Descendants of the most powerful wizards. Ancient noble houses that have preserved their lineage unbroken even after the gates of heaven closed and the world's energy grew scarce.
Unlike other families whose wizard blood had thinned to near-transparency, the Great Ten had never once let their bloodlines die out. While wizards distinguished themselves from ordinary folk by calling themselves nobles, in this diluted age, only they could truly claim the title.
And among them stood the Spencer family.
Having long infiltrated normal society, learning its culture and ways, and leveraging their abilities to amass vast power, the Spencers had risen high. Foreseeing the potential of the New World, they abandoned lands held for centuries and migrated to America, diving into usury and banking—fields traditionally scorned in magical circles. Now, they towered as a financial dynasty owning countless businesses and assets.
Even among the Great Ten, stripping away the power of their bloodlines left most as mere influential European nobles amid the magical society's decline. Yet the Spencers overturned evaluations of their inferior talent, boasting the greatest prosperity.
Born the cherished daughter of such a family, Ariana grew up in luxury, harboring immense pride in her house from a young age. Always striving to carry herself in a manner befitting her lineage, sparing no effort from childhood to hone her exceptional abilities. To sum her up in a phrase: standing, she was a peony; seated, a peony; walking, a lily.
Naturally, only the finest luxury brands adorned her body.
With Eldmier's enrollment approaching, Ariana made a scheduled stop at Clavis, the premier enchanted goods shop run by the world's top enchanter, to stock up on essentials.
Entering Clavis, Ariana fixed her gaze on the Eastern boy rudely blocking the aisle.
Having seen countless fools lose their minds and act stupidly before her radiant beauty—like the sun itself—she waited silently for him to step aside.
"Uh, yeah. Go ahead."
I sidestepped casually, a question mark popping over my head.
The hallway's so wide—can't she just go around?
Her demand was so brazen my body moved on autopilot without a second thought.
Watching the girl glide straight down the center—posture perfect, elegance personified—I suddenly recalled a famous meme.
Western kids look like living dolls as children, but damn, the vibe's totally different.
She moved like a bisque doll come to life; I was almost startled. To think kids like her would, in a couple years, outshine even full-grown 20- and 30-somethings in raw looks... what a depraved world.
I headed to the desk to find a clerk. The girl I'd let pass was being led deeper inside by a staff member with her entourage.
Spotting a familiar face—the clerk who'd guided me first—I spoke up.
"Excuse me."
"Yes, sir? How can I help?"
I explained my situation honestly and asked about cheaper wands and grimoires.
"Do you have any wands or grimoires within 20 solas?"
The clerk looked troubled.
"Every piece in Clavis's collection undergoes rigorous appraisal to ensure only proven masterpieces. Even for those unskilled in magic, they draw out more than one's latent talent—true 'artifacts', we proudly claim. The section I showed you is our exclusive line for new students, the most accessible benefit in our brand."
"Be... benefits, what?"
At my blank look, the clerk smiled and clarified.
"We have nothing cheaper in our store."
"Ah!"
Damn, screwed.
Shuffling out, the clerk's words echoed in my head.
'Wands and grimoires use special materials verified for mana conductivity, so production sets an unavoidable floor price. Below 20 solas, you couldn't even guarantee basic stability as an artifact. No shop offers less—it's simply unrealistic.'
An unexpected roadblock.
I stewed in frustration—Does this mean poor kids can't even go to school?—when the clerk kindly offered an alternative.
"Eldmier provides basic learning items free to new students via affiliate shops. Wands and grimoires are included, so the academy covers the cost at affiliates."
She sketched a map on a scrap of paper.
Why hadn't the school mentioned this? Apparently, it's bare-minimum stuff—low quality, so few wizards actually use it.
"Guess I'll grab some food first."
I dropped my cart of luggage at the inn to handle lunch.
Menu: fish 'n' scream. Stabbing the wriggling fried fish with a wooden fork drew a squealing urgh before it went limp. Dipping the brutally shredded flesh in lemon sauce and swallowing it whole, chasing with sweet grape wine... kyaaah.
"The juice beats the food, honestly."
Belly full, I followed the map to the affiliate, feeling a twinge of doubt.
Is this legit?
The clerk's nuance said it all—hesitant expression, visible conflict, like debating whether to tell a kid.
Basically, parasite treatment, huh?
In a place full of self-proclaimed nobles, using freebies because you're broke? Obvious what she held back.
After trekking busily, past the city outskirts down a deserted path, I reached the alley entrance.
"Huh, this alley..."
Everyone's wandered an old market once. Buildings crammed haphazardly over ages, sky blocked, paths tangled—dark even in daylight. Crowded yet narrow; lose focus, and you're lost.
Exactly that vibe, but dead silent. I double-checked the map, thinking I'd goofed the spot.
Business here?
But no turning back now; I stepped in to confirm.
Most shops: dusty windows, empty interiors—closed for business. A quick turn, and there was the one the clerk mentioned. No fancy signboard—just faded letters spelling "Enchanted Goods Shop."
Peeling paint on worn wood, but a tiny candle flickered behind the grimy glass, hinting at human touch. At a glance, it screamed history and tradition—in every sense.
Anyone inside? Should I just go in?
Awkward to loiter, so I cautiously pushed the door.
"Excuse me."
The hinges creaked; heavy, stagnant air whooshed out, displacing the draft. Sun-bleached wood and cool mold mingled with thick dust, tickling my nose.
"Whoa—"
This was it. Straight out of a movie magic shop—expectations rose.
"Anyone here? Hello?"
Raising my voice, I heard rustling from the back, then dry coughs.
"Cough, cough. Who's there?"
A raspy voice; a side door opened, revealing a white-haired geezer.
"Here for a wand and grimoire."
"Wait a sec."
Cough, cough—he shuffled to the counter-like spot, every move punctuated by hacks. The weight of ages hunched his shoulders.
"I'm a new Eldmier student, and I heard I can get a wand and grimoire supported here..."
"Cough! Already that time, eh?"
The shopkeeper rummaged behind the counter, slid out a ledger.
"Date, birthdate, name—write 'em here."
Oh, quill pen time?
Taking the ledger and pen, I filled date and birth, pondered the name, then wrote it in Korean.
"I've seen a few Chinese and Japanese kids, but a Korean one's a first. Cough, cough!"
I nodded along.
"Then I'm customer number one? The first Korean wizard?"
"Heh heh, could be. But our shop's always empty, so hard to say if you're truly the first Korean wizard. Cough, cough."
He cracked a faint smile.
"A real cute girl stopped by a few hours ago—first customer in years."
"Ahaha... right..."
I scratched my head at his words.
This place really okay?