Hearth Bay.
He'd heard the name for two years.
Sometimes from guild hunters boasting over ale. Sometimes from foreign merchants' whispers.
The common thread was always the same:
Everyone who mentioned Hearth Bay spoke like it was a place you couldn't help but imagine.
As long as you could pay, you could buy anything there.
Even the "key" that opened the road to transcendence.
Its other name was the black market.
Unfortunately, Ethan had never gone.
The reason was simple—
Hearth Bay didn't have a ship willing to carry him.
The black market required an invitation. A nobody from a border town like Ethan didn't get looked at twice.
But now?
Things were different.
He was no longer who he used to be.
He was an imperial public servant.
White shirt. Gray tie. A broad black coat.
Dressed like a gentleman from high society.
Ethan wasn't unfamiliar with the "gentleman" identity.
Back in university, he'd earned that title once.
No one understood what a true gentleman did better than him.
Step one: download a ZIP file named "Gentleman MOD" from a website.
Step two: leave a comment saying, "Thanks for sharing, OP—good people live a peaceful life."
Step three: share the downloaded file with your roommates.
Don't underestimate these three steps.
They showcased a gentleman's information-gathering abilities, kindness, and willingness to share.
It not only made him a "gentleman" in people's eyes, but for a long time, it also had him playing the role of his roommates' father.
Until near graduation—when his roommates realized the last 30GB archive he'd shared was the complete collection of Society and Law—and stripped him of both titles: "gentleman" and "father."
But Ethan believed that was precisely what made a father truly… weighty.
Graduation meant everyone went their separate ways into the workplace.
People's hearts were treacherous. Never trust anyone too easily.
Even if he was often respectfully called "Father."
That was… the final lesson.
Ethan adjusted the tie in the mirror, studying himself with rare seriousness.
Two years after transmigrating, this was the first time he'd truly examined his own appearance.
Clothes really did make the man.
His old outfits had been too ragged. Even if a movie-star face wore a peasant set, charm would take a hit.
"Mm. Not bad," Ivy said from behind him, arms crossed. "You look… vaguely human, at least."
"If you don't want to compliment someone, you can simply not do it," Ethan said.
Ivy's severe tone made him wonder what kind of creature she'd pictured him as before.
Then again—born to wealth, raised in the capital—she'd probably seen enough beauty that her standards were sky-high.
Ethan was fairly satisfied with his "public servant skin." In a small place like Creekwood, his competitiveness was excellent.
"Take this," Ivy said, handing him a masquerade mask. "And remember—when we get to Hearth Bay, don't let anyone know your real name."
She prepared a fully covering mask for herself, revealing only her eyes.
Her short golden hair was pinned up and tucked into a hat, then she pulled on an oversized black coat—clearly meant to hide her gender as much as possible.
Ethan suspected the coat's size was meant to disguise her silhouette.
Unfortunately, the effect was… limited.
Because even a battle-hardened royal soldier couldn't train chest muscles to that scale.
"Walk and listen," Ivy said as she led him out. "These are the rules for Hearth Bay."
"The person we're meeting is Mugram. A black market merchant who often deals with the Containment Bureau."
"But don't let that lower your guard. And don't be fooled by appearances."
"Every merchant in Hearth Bay will smile while they squeeze every last drop of value out of you."
Ethan nodded.
Swindlers weren't rare.
"And don't speak to strangers there," Ivy continued. "One wrong move, and you'll fall into a fate worse than death."
…?
That felt excessive.
Ethan had to confirm. "We're going to buy things, right?"
It was hard to imagine a marketplace so dangerous that buyers simply vanished.
"Yes," Ivy said.
"So… the security there isn't great?"
"Hearth Bay is the territory of the Lofick Consortium. No one causes trouble there."
Her voice cooled. "I mean you need to control your desires. Otherwise you'll pay for them."
"You can rest easy," Ethan said, relieved. He'd thought Hearth Bay had kidnappers.
As for desire… that was easy to suppress.
"Haven't you heard a saying?" he said earnestly. "Poverty makes the heart pure."
Ivy's expression grew… richer.
Even behind her mask, Ethan could picture it: a look like someone watching a fledgling sparrow—provoked, almost amused.
"So it begins," Ivy said, her voice somehow turning into a wickedly taunting, impish tone. Ethan suspected the mask was making her too comfortable.
"You're exactly the type most easily deceived."
"In Hearth Bay, money isn't the only currency."
"Your eyes. Your blood. Your limbs. Your organs."
"Even you—your whole self—can become bargaining chips."
"And there will be people who lend you money," Ivy continued, savoring each word. "They can easily fulfill the deepest desires in your heart."
"I understand the point," Ethan said, "but what's with your voice?"
He had a different concern:
Compared to him, Ivy herself was the true hazard.
That deliberately teasing tone could provoke desires in other people far more easily than anything Ethan might do.
If she spoke like that in Hearth Bay, things could spiral into unpredictable territory.
"It's disguise," Ivy said flatly.
Ethan wanted to argue, but the scenery stole his words.
Ivy led him through twisting streets and tight turns until they arrived at a place that felt… familiar.
The town was still under the witch's domain. The residents had all retreated home early. They hadn't seen a single person along the way.
Ethan had been here before.
In a dream.
In that dream, he'd stood across the street and watched Zhaocai walk with elegant steps into an alley, disappearing around the next corner.
"Turn left," Ivy reminded him.
The same corner.
The same turning point where Zhaocai had vanished.
When Ethan had followed in the dream, he'd witnessed something uncanny.
He'd seen Zhaocai leap down from a wall—and become a white-haired girl—vanishing by the mailbox in the blink of an eye.
"This place…" Ethan asked slowly, "is…?"
"Hearth Bay's arcane node in Creekwood," Ivy answered.
She approached the mailbox and slid her gloved left hand inside.
"Watch carefully," she said. "I'll only show you once."
She took out a sheet of parchment.
Her finger pressed to the upper right corner, then drew slowly inward.
A faint outline appeared beneath her touch—at first glance, like a coastline.
Along the edge of that "shore," tiny place names surfaced.
When her finger reached the center, the image of an old sailing ship emerged.
Ethan tried to focus—
But something strange drifted out of the parchment.
A tiny yellow mote, no larger than a fingernail.
Ivy seemed completely unaware. The mote didn't care about her either.
Like a firefly, it floated straight toward Ethan.
Ethan couldn't help it—his attention snapped from the parchment to the mote as it settled onto his nose.
Cold as a raindrop. It tickled.
"You must concentrate," Ivy warned, still tracing. "Accuracy is critical. If you deviate and get sent somewhere strange, I can't save you."
"Remember—Mugram's shop is located—"
"Achoo!"
The sudden sneeze startled Ivy so badly her hand jerked.
"You—!"
The curse cut off mid-syllable.
Ethan watched Ivy's body twist and warp—then get sucked into the mailbox's cramped space.
Ethan scratched his nose.
With that earthshaking sneeze, the yellow mote vanished as well.
Clearly, Ivy's teleportation spell had taken effect.
But…
When she vanished—
Did she just curse at him?
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