Chapter Thirty-Eight: Aren’t You Afraid of Pricking Your Feet?

“I know, you are the universe’s most unbeatable and best leader.”

Ethan gave Ivy a sincere thumbs-up. His previous life’s workplace experience had led him to believe that such a good leader might only exist in illusions—many people’s last fantasy before dying from overwork.

“Well… it’s not that exaggerated.”

Ivy averted her gaze from Ethan. Her golden-haired companion’s reaction was more direct; it shyly covered its face with its hands and twisted its body bashfully.

“Time’s almost up, I should head back to rest.”

Ethan said.

Having completed this friendly neighborhood exchange, his impression in the leader's mind should have improved a few points, bringing him closer to his ideal transfer to the headquarters of the Containment Bureau.

Of course, sleeping was out of the question—how could someone his age fall asleep so easily?

Before heading to Hearthbay, he needed to perform basic disguise.

A simple gray mage’s robe, a worn wizard’s hat, a wooden staff, and an essential mask. Ethan examined himself in the mirror. Aside from the slightly tattered outfit making him look somewhat battle-hardened, overall, he still looked quite good—handsome even—and, most importantly, obviously a professional elemental spellcrafter.

News of a mysterious elemental spellcrafter arriving at the docks spread through the tavern. This newcomer specialized in high-end custom magical scrolls for clients.

Yet, the foot traffic was disappointing.

Such calls for business were common in Hearthbay; anyone knowledgeable knew that the spellcrafter named Heisenberg likely couldn’t afford a stall on the deck. And when they learned that a single custom order cost 30 gold lions, they immediately dismissed it as a scam.

The kind of scammer hoping to get rich overnight.

Ethan paid no mind to the gossip. As the saying goes, all beginnings are difficult. He was confident that after completing a few orders, more clients would come to him because he could offer custom services beyond what a magical scroll shop could provide—people of this era simply didn’t understand the true value of “customization.”

Until then, he just needed to stay by the sea and quietly practice his Ice Arrows.

Watching his skill proficiency steadily increase, this fulfilling night made Ethan feel as if he had returned to the past. He even found joy in the monotonous practice. When he accidentally discovered that his Ice Arrows could skip across the water’s surface, things quickly became uncontrollable.

At first, the Ice Arrows only splashed two or three ripples on the water, but after relentless practice, Ethan felt his connection with the ice element growing tighter. When his final Ice Arrow left twenty icy marks on the surface, he and the ice element raised their arms in excitement and leapt up.

We are champions!

Although Ethan was the sole contestant in the first-ever “Ice Arrow Skipping Competition,” it did not stop him and the ice element from basking in the glory of victory. It is well known that the champion of the inaugural competition holds a unique place in history.

Ethan could feel that today the ice element was no longer downcast; it was excited after a long time.

They smiled at each other, everything understood without words.

Sometimes, a man’s joy with the ice element is just this simple.

Passersby and guards near the shore all expressed their opinions on the matter—insane!

Even in Hearthbay, such craziness was rare.

A message quickly spread.

There’s a madman by the beach who shoots Ice Arrows—stay away or risk getting hit in the face.

[Ice Arrow (Mastery): Proficiency 21/150]

Ethan checked his panel with satisfaction; today’s training had come to an end. He noticed the ice element seemed about as tired as he was.

As skill proficiency rose, gaining more proficiency became increasingly difficult. At the third mastery level, it was no longer possible to increase proficiency with every Ice Arrow shot. Nearly 20 points gained in one evening was like riding a rocket, far faster than when he used to practice Fireball.

It seemed destined that he would become a master of the ice element.

The sky in Hearthbay never brightened. Many guessed the place existed in some special space outside real-world dimensions. The Lofic Consortium had invested heavily to commission the world’s top mages to create this dimension. It was both the consortium’s trade hub and their sole domain of law.

Day one: zero customers.

At Creekwood Town, dawn was likely approaching. He would return to get a good night’s sleep.

Ethan had planned his next steps, but as he turned around, his plan was disrupted—just as the Old Forest Magic Scroll Shop was about to close, he received his first customer.

Ivy?

Ethan stood frozen.

The customer was a woman wearing a swirling mask almost identical to Ivy’s, but with subtle differences upon closer inspection.

She had waist-length white hair, the swirling mask revealing only her red eyes.

White hair and red eyes—features that would excite countless gentlemen.

Ethan had read in a book about a special tribe living in the empire’s north, known for their white hair and red eyes. Upon seeing that description, he had already planned a future journey to the northern empire.

He should have greeted her warmly, but he couldn’t smile.

This was the first time since his transmigration that he felt pressure from another person.

Just their gaze made his hands and feet cold.

So cold!

Not just a drop in temperature, but a chill that seemed to seep from the depths of his soul.

The white-haired woman calmly watched him. Her exquisite deep blue satin robe clearly indicated noble birth. Ethan also noticed a bracelet emitting faint blue light on her right wrist.

Below, her slender, well-shaped legs were bare, her crystal-clear toes visible.

“Do you like feet?”

The white-haired woman glanced down following Ethan’s gaze, considering.

“No, I just suddenly thought of a question.”

Ethan frowned. Even after she spoke, he didn’t avoid the topic but instead looked even more closely, resting his hand on his chin as if admiring a work of art.

Her skin, flawless like porcelain, seemed smooth and soft even without touch.

“What question?”

As she asked, the white-haired woman raised her right foot, voluntarily showing the sole to Ethan.

Ethan ended his admiration and posed the thought-provoking question: “You walk barefoot—aren’t you afraid of stepping on a nail?”

Such delicate, tender feet would surely hurt for a long time if accidentally pierced by a nail, right?

He was genuinely worried his client might be ambushed by the sharp objects that littered the beach, nails among them.

“No.”

The white-haired woman calmly placed her foot back on the ground and said, “I heard from people in the tavern that Hearthbay has a mysterious elemental spellcrafter who offers high-end custom magical scroll services.”

“That’s right, that would be me.”

To confirm his identity and gain trust, Ethan showed her the wooden staff symbolizing the mage profession.

“Anything you want made?” she confirmed.

“Of course.”

“Then, I would like to consult about something related to love.”