Lucien pulled open the drawer beneath the counter and took out the old ledger.
The pages were worn, corners folded, numbers written in different inks—some neat, some rushed. It didn't take long to find what he was looking for.
Six months of unpaid rent.
He let out a quiet breath.
The previous owner had clearly been on good terms with the landlord. Anyone else would've been thrown out long ago. Still, goodwill didn't last forever. Debts were debts, and Lucien had no intention of living off someone else's patience.
Now that he finally had money in hand, this was the first thing to settle.
He closed the ledger, grabbed his coat, and headed out.
The streets were as lively as ever.
Tourists moved in groups, cameras flashing, voices blending into a constant hum. Shops buzzed with activity, and security guards stood watch at nearly every corner. It was busy—but not exactly safe.
Lucien didn't linger.
At the bank, he withdrew just enough cash to cover the rent, transferring the rest into his account. Carrying too much money around here was just asking for trouble.
By the time he stepped back outside, nothing unusual had happened.
Which, in itself, was good.
Back at the shop, he flipped through his contact book and found the number he needed.
The phone booth outside still worked, thankfully.
After a short wait, the call connected.
"Hello?"
The voice on the other end was gentle.
"Ms. Kate? It's Lucien… from the shop."
There was a brief pause, then recognition.
"Oh—yes. Mr. Su's son, right?"
"Something like that," he replied calmly. "I'm calling about the rent. I'd like to settle it."
For a moment, the line went quiet.
Then her tone softened.
"That's good to hear. Things must be going better for you."
"They are."
"Well, we're home today. Come by anytime."
Lucien nodded, even though she couldn't see it.
"I'll be there this afternoon."
As he was about to hang up, there was a slight hesitation on her end.
"…Take care."
Something about it lingered.
Not fear.
But… distraction.
Lucien frowned faintly after the call ended.
Something was off.
Still, it wasn't his problem.
At least, that's what he told himself.
Back inside, he reached for a different book this time.
Not the one he'd been studying before—but another.
The Complete Guide to Talismans.
The title was… underwhelming.
Compared to the other texts on the shelf, it lacked any kind of presence. No grand name. No sense of history. Just a simple label, like something mass-produced.
But it was all he had.
And after the fight with Mary Shaw, one thing had become very clear—
His methods were limited.
Outside of brute force and raw ability, he didn't have many options. And relying purely on energy-consuming techniques wasn't sustainable.
Talismans, though… those were different.
They required preparation—but once made, they could be used anytime.
Lucien opened the book.
It didn't take long for him to realize something.
This wasn't simple.
Not even close.
Every step had requirements—materials, timing, control. Even the way the brush moved mattered. One wrong stroke could ruin the entire thing.
It wasn't just drawing.
It was precision.
Discipline.
Understanding.
Lucien leaned back slightly, rubbing his temple.
"So this is why not everyone can do it…"
Still, he didn't stop.
If anything, it made him more interested.
Because if something was difficult—
It meant it was worth learning.
Time passed quietly.
The shop fell into a comfortable silence, broken only by the occasional turning of pages.
About an hour later, Lucien finally closed the book.
Not because he was done—
But because he had reached a limit for now.
Even so, he could feel it.
A faint sense of progress.
Small.
But real.
He checked the time.
It was already afternoon.
Without wasting another moment, he gathered the money, locked up the shop, and hailed a taxi.
The city gradually gave way to quieter roads.
Tall buildings turned into houses. Noise faded into something softer. Cleaner.
By the time the car stopped, it was close to four.
The neighborhood was… different.
Spacious.
Orderly.
The kind of place where nothing seemed out of place.
Lucien paid the driver and stepped out, his gaze settling on the house ahead.
A large villa, neatly maintained, with a quiet presence that matched its surroundings.
He walked up to the door and rang the bell.
A moment later, footsteps approached.
The door opened just a crack—
Then wider.
A teenage boy stood there, looking him up and down.
For a second, neither spoke.
Then the boy's expression changed.
Subtle.
But obvious enough.
"You're here to borrow money, right?" he said bluntly. "We're not giving any."
Lucien raised an eyebrow.
That was… unexpected.
He didn't respond immediately.
Just looked at him.
Calm.
Steady.
And for some reason—
The boy stiffened.
Something in that gaze made him uncomfortable. Enough that the next words he wanted to say got stuck in his throat.
Before things could escalate, another voice came from inside.
"Who is it?"
Quick footsteps followed.
A young woman appeared, brushing past the boy—and the moment she saw Lucien, her face lit up.
"Hey, Lucien. It's been a while."
Her tone was warm.
Genuine.
And just like that—
The tension at the door shifted.