Chapter 37: The Heroic Friend and the Timid Girl

"I Could Use the Ethereal Realm for Smuggling!"

Only those who have truly experienced poverty understand the value of money.

That was the first bold idea that popped into Ian's mind. If he could exploit the Ethereal Realm for smuggling, who else could possibly rake in golden galleons like he could?

The Aurors? The Muggle police? Even if they knew he was smuggling, what could they do? It's not like they had the ability to enter the Ethereal Realm and track down contraband!

The more he thought about it, the better the idea seemed! Of course, given that he could only enter the Ethereal Realm once a week, the efficiency wasn't great. He'd have to focus on high-value goods.

Dragon eggs?

Dragon corpses?

Or perhaps… the vaults of Gringotts?

Cough.

That might be a bit too ambitious, not to mention straying off course… As tempting as this money-making scheme was, Ian had enough sense to hold his tongue.

He opened his mouth to speak but quickly reconsidered.

Deep down, he knew that whatever his mentor was hinting at, it had to be something far more significant than this. Sure, Ian saw smuggling as a grand enterprise, but most wizards had little concern for golden galleons.

"It's not about bringing things in here to hide them… but I can't take anything out, either," Ian mused, frowning as he tried to puzzle it out.

And just as he was deep in thought—

"Enough, my apprentice. You are not yet strong enough to stay here for long, and I have no interest in watching you squat there like someone struggling with constipation."

It was hard to imagine that such crude words could come from a woman as poised and regal as Mara. Ian, caught off guard, felt a wave of embarrassment wash over him.

"I was merely contemplating your words, Professor Mara," he defended himself.

"You can ponder all you like when you return to the real world," the witch said dismissively. She raised a hand, and a framed picture on the nearby wall rippled like liquid, flowing toward Ian.

Instinctively, he lifted his hand.

The strange, fluid metal solidified in his grip, transforming into a wooden wand.

"Now then, let's see it in action," Mara commanded.

She turned her gaze toward the kitchen, and suddenly, a roast suckling pig floated into the room—except it was still squealing as though it were alive.

Ian's eyes widened in disbelief.

"I hope you haven't been slacking," Mara remarked lazily, propping her chin on her hand as she lounged on an ornate, gleaming chair.

Her meaning was clear.

Ian immediately raised his wand and aimed at the "living" roast pig.

"Fear Manifest!"

The principle behind this spell was similar to Legilimency, though considerably easier to cast. It worked by drawing out the target's most primal fear from the depths of their subconscious.

Every living being had fears, even if they didn't consciously acknowledge them.

And apparently, that included enchanted roast pigs.

A grayish beam shot from Ian's wand, striking the pig. Instantly, it let out a bloodcurdling screech, shrieking in sheer terror.

The sound was so unnerving that even the surrounding furniture trembled.

"Not bad," Mara remarked, a satisfied smile playing on her lips.

"It's all thanks to your excellent teaching, Professor," Ian said quickly, laying on the flattery.

Mara seemed to appreciate it.

"Runes are not an easy subject to master. The fact that you've learned to cast this spell in just seven days would have been considered outstanding even in my time," she praised.

Mara was never one to be modest with her compliments, something Ian rather enjoyed.

"A great wizard needs an even greater teacher. I'm truly fortunate to have you as my mentor," Ian replied, his flattery both sincere and confident.

From his observations, Mara didn't care much for humility.

And sure enough—

"Naturally," she said, her tone filled with pride.

"When I first learned this spell, it took me only two days. I always knew I was destined to become a powerful witch, and history has proven me right," she added smugly.

Ian opened his mouth… then wisely closed it.

Mara either didn't notice or chose to ignore his reaction.

"The message I left for you contained some subtle guidance. The fact that you could learn this spell means you've at least grasped the basics of rune application," she explained.

"This will save you a great deal of trouble in your future studies."

With a casual wave of her hand, the still-screaming roast pig abruptly stopped. It returned to being an ordinary, delicious-looking meal and floated back toward the kitchen.

Ian watched, once again fascinated by her effortless magic.

"Mastering spells is one thing, but truly understanding the knowledge behind them is what truly matters. Runes are the key to comprehending the very essence of magic," Mara continued.

She paused briefly before adding, "At least, in my view."

It was rare for Mara to show any sign of uncertainty. Perhaps when it came to learning, she allowed herself a rare moment of humility.

"I understand. I'll keep that in mind," Ian said, nodding seriously.

"Now, before we begin your formal training in potions, you must first—"

Before she could finish, a sudden commotion erupted outside the castle.

"He's here again!"

"Sound the alarm! Ahhh! I've been chopped in half again!"

A cacophony of clanging metal and frantic shouting filled the air.

Ian tensed and turned to Mara, only to find her expression had darkened considerably.

Just moments ago, she had been smiling with satisfaction. Now, her face was twisted into something almost comical in its sheer frustration—like she had just taken a masterclass from Severus Snape himself.

Before Ian could cautiously ask what was happening, a familiar voice rang out from outside—

"Pandero, are you sure Ian is here?"

"Trust me, Anna! That evil woman definitely kidnapped him!"

"I don't know… she didn't seem that bad. But those suits of armor… they're terrifying!"

"Don't be scared! These things are basically made of paper. Watch me skewer three—no, four—in one strike!"

"Whoa! You're really strong!"

"Haha! Look, the gate's just ahead! One good kick, and it'll shatter into seven hundred pieces—I tried it last time!"

Ian froze.

That voice. That ridiculous, overconfident boasting…

Sure enough, the castle doors suddenly swung open—clearly not because of brute force, but because Mara had hurriedly flung them open herself.

Ian turned toward the entrance.

"Aww, the gate opened? Damn. Guess you won't get to witness my heroic display, little missy," a voice grumbled.

Standing at the threshold was a boy dressed in simple, ragged clothes. Beside him was a pale-faced girl who clung to his arm nervously.

It was exactly as Ian remembered—bold, fearless Pandero and the timid but sweet Arianna.

Ian stared, caught between surprise and delight.

Mara, however, had the exact opposite reaction.

"You damned butcher!" she roared. "Do you think I'm afraid of you?!"

Yet, for all her fury, Ian couldn't help but notice…

There was a distinct lack of confidence in her voice.