"So you two just… teamed up like that?"
Elina leaned casually against the rim of the dry fountain in the school courtyard. The fountain only came alive at the start of term—or when government inspectors visited. A cost-saving measure, clearly.
The golden sunlight of an autumn morning cast a gentle warmth across the square, making the clean, sunlit plaza more popular than the shaded lawns. The fountain's stone rim had become a favorite gathering spot for casual chats.
Sitting cross-legged, Lanen explained everything to his friends—the talk with Abel, skipping Magical History class, and the new plan they had hatched.
His friends stared at him in disbelief. So much had happened in so little time.
"Yup. So, since today's a rest day, come with me to file a patent. We can explore the city a bit too. Hale and I have only been to West Street—we're curious about the rest."
"No problem at all," Elina said. "But what I really want to know is—when did you invent this thing?"
"You mean the abacus? Just a few days ago..." Lanen hadn't expected them to fixate on that.
"I did see Lanen carving wood sometimes, but I didn't ask."
"Is it really as amazing as you claim?"
"If it's this fun, why didn't you show us earlier?!"
Lanen: "…"
The day after their discussion, Lanen and Abel finalized their agreement: a detailed investment plan, profit-sharing (55% to Lanen, 45% to Abel), and a draft contract. They agreed to begin production as soon as Lanen secured the kingdom's patent.
They also earmarked a portion of future profits to fund international patent filings—since not all countries recognized each other's intellectual property.
They would jointly find a factory to manufacture and assemble the product, contract printers and box-makers for manuals and packaging, and Abel would handle distribution. Though Abel contributed 60% of the investment to Lanen's 40%, he generously allowed Lanen to pay part of his share later—once profits came in. That gesture won Lanen's respect.
Grinning, Lanen said to his wide-eyed friends, "Good thing I came prepared."
He pulled three finely crafted mini-abacuses from his bag. "Limited edition—handcrafted by Master Artisan Lanen Banneray himself! Signed by the creator and recipient. Priceless."
As he exaggerated proudly, his friends rolled their eyes and made silly faces.
"Come on, I'll teach you how to use it. Then let's head into town." Lanen stood, pulling them to their feet.
The sun was high overhead. Though there were people on the streets, it paled in comparison to the crowds on West Street.
Wearing linen robes and pointed hats, the group stood at a quiet street corner. A tin sign nailed to the wall read: Ox-Tail Bone Street.
"Wow, way fewer people here."
"It's not as lively as West Street," Elina observed. "Most people just pass through. No one lingers."
"Why is that?" Sophia asked, craning her neck.
"Well, aside from a few residential walls, most buildings here are high-end service firms—law offices, studios, data firms, news agencies, printing workshops. Not the kind of places that attract foot traffic. But they generate massive tax revenue—one of the city's top sources."
"My destination's at the end of the street," Lanen said, pointing ahead.
They strolled leisurely, chatting as they walked.
"Did you hear? The headmaster took out a huge loan two years ago and secured a massive plot outside the city to build a new campus."
"Really? With land prices so high now, the school must've made a killing. I didn't think Headmaster Blanc had it in him."
"It's true. They're calling it the West Campus. This one will be renamed East."
"Not that it matters to us. We won't be around by then. And I bet our current budget cuts are linked to that project. Kinda unfair."
"…"
No one had a comeback. Lanen had a point.
"What's going on up there? Why's that line so long?" Hale pointed toward a crowd ahead.
"That should be the city zoo," Elina guessed. "We can't see the sign from this angle, but we'll spot it soon. Weekend crowds with kids, probably."
"Ooh, I've always wanted to visit a zoo, but my father never had time off. Do they have Smyle Beasts?"
"They're common. A crowd magnet for girls, at least. Not like dragons—those are rare. You'll definitely see a Smyle Beast," Elina replied.
"Speaking of dragons—the only dragon organization on the continent hates how so many countries list dragons as protected species."
"Well, they should be protected. I heard they were nearly extinct until recently. I love their prideful nature."
"By the way, I spotted a movie theater nearby—wanna catch a film sometime?" Lanen asked, nodding toward the glittering signage he'd seen before.
"Sounds fun…"
Edgar Law Offices was a small but longstanding practice with over a decade of history. Despite its age, the firm consisted of just the owner and two employees.
In fact, Edgar was the only licensed attorney on staff.
Even so, his days were never busy—because business was scarce.
"Welcome! Edgar Law Offices always offers top-tier service and the most appropriate legal advice, no matter when you visit," came the cheerful greeting as they entered.
Edgar himself welcomed them. After hearing Lanen's request, he called over a clerk and retrieved a stack of documents.
"Let's see—for patent applications, you'll need to fill out these six forms. Three require stamps from different government departments. We offer document processing services—fair rates, all listed clearly on the wall."
"Mr. Edgar, my investor and I agreed to file patents in surrounding countries once we commercialize the product. This could become a big operation. If things go well, I'd like to entrust our contract review and notarization to your firm as well. So—can you offer a discount?"
"Hm. I can do a five percent discount."
Lanen leaned over the desk, hands braced on the edge. "Can't you do a little better?"
"…All right, fifteen percent off. That's my bottom line. Any more and I'd be losing money."
Lanen grinned. Done.
He paid extra for premium services at a discounted rate. After submitting the forms and required documents, Lanen and Edgar agreed that he would return in five business days to collect the patent certificate.
By noon, the group shared a hearty lunch, then parted ways.
The library was crowded for a weekend. Lanen's thoughts drifted, unfocused.
Bathed in sunlight from the large windows, he half-studied, half-fielded questions from classmates while buried in his pile of books.
He usually worked part-time every weekend afternoon, so he had to skip study sessions with his friends. But this quiet time was perfect for more challenging, extracurricular material.
Recently, he'd gained a clearer understanding of Allen Matheson's thesis on Computational Decision-Making in Ambiguous Scenarios. Bits of memory began to resurface, fragmented and scattered—like his mind had once been shattered and was slowly reassembling.
Few borrowed these books. Despite regular dusting (which Lanen himself did while working), the pages smelled faintly of age.
As dusk approached, Lanen closed his book and stretched, blinking tired eyes as he pondered what the cafeteria might serve for dinner.
That was when two girls burst into the library, clambering up the stairs in a panic.
They ran straight to the front desk and asked him urgently—
"Beta is missing. Have you seen him?!"
"What?!"