Mage Manual

Chapter 1622 - 1190: Drama Poet

"There’s another heartbroken little girl in this world."

As the rain pattered down the stone steps, the neon lights of the street signs painted the water’s surface in vibrant colors, the splashes bouncing off the maid’s calves. They weren’t using an umbrella, but the rain naturally avoided them. Vishi followed closely beside Ash, bending over and tilting her head to look at him. Her long heavy hair swung in dazzling arcs as she said with a playful smile, "I think what you’re doing should be made illegal. Otherwise, those girls stepping into trash cans are too pitiful."

Ash retorted irritably, "I didn’t, I didn’t, stop making stuff up."

"Don’t pretend you didn’t notice. You’re acting so innocent that not even a Witch would buy it," Vishi shot him a sideways glance, "Now when they bat their eyelashes, you know exactly what they’re insinuating."

"And I see you’re quite pleased with yourself. If I wasn’t here, wouldn’t you sneak off for a midnight snack?"

"Isn’t it normal for me to be pleased?" Ash chuckled. "If someone likes you, wouldn’t you be happy too?"

"Of course not." Vishi acted as if she’d heard the biggest joke. "I’m not trash like you. How could I be happy about such a thing? It’s more likely that people fear me."

Ash glanced at her and said, "Anyway, she’ll soon forget us, and that bit of affection comes and goes quickly. It’s not like a soap opera. Who would carry a torch for someone they only met once for years?"

Vishi studied him seriously for a moment, ensuring he wasn’t joking, then turned her head to mutter quietly, "This loud mouth really has no self-awareness..."

"What did you say?"

Vishi gave a thumbs-up, "I said, Master, wise word."

"You reminded me that I haven’t settled accounts with you yet," Ash said, "You promised me you wouldn’t harm the innocent, but now you dare to conduct entrapments?"

"You called it entrapment, so it doesn’t count as harming the innocent!" Vishi argued. "You never said I couldn’t do entrapments, and I didn’t catch anyone before you stopped me!"

"But you knew I would never allow it."

"How am I supposed to know if you don’t say anything?!"

"Because you’re the Ghost Prophet; you know everything I’m thinking!" Ash said obstinately. "And your attitude... daring to talk back, unrepentant, doubling your punishment!"

Vishi was in awe, "Ash, you and the Sword Maiden really are a match made in heaven."

"Saying nice things won’t help."

"No, I mean you both have double standards and are shameless and unreasonable."

"Thank you." Ash accepted the evaluation with confidence, extending his hand to Vishi: "Give me your hand."

Vishi confusedly placed her hand, and Ash slapped it down, making a crisp sound. The two looked at each other for a moment. Vishi blinked, questioning with her eyes, ’Is that it?’

If the punishment for testing boundaries was just a hand slap, it was like encouragement. Vishi wouldn’t flinch even if he slapped her on her fleshy parts.

However, Ash then grabbed her hand in reverse and led her towards their hideout. The maid took a few steps before realizing something was amiss and struggled to pull her hand away, "Let me go!"

"Why are you so tense?"

"What if the others see and misunderstand?!"

Ash couldn’t help but retort, "They’ve even seen you bite me. What’s left to misunderstand?"

"This is different!" Vishi huffed, tugging to hold him back like a tug-of-war, "Anything goes in negotiations, but this isn’t part of that! Let me go!"

Watching the anxious Ghost Prophet, Ash blinked, feeling he’d triggered her ultimate attack routine with a casual strike. He suddenly realized that they’d accomplished most things except hand-holding.

So he tried it tonight, and Vishi’s strong reaction made him curious, "We’ve already been intertwined so many times. Why do you care about hand-holding?"

Vishi pressed her lips tight and suddenly said, "Fine, I admit it. I won’t fish anymore!"

Ash’s eyes lit up and he shook his head, "Not enough."

"...For anything you might not allow, I’ll ask you first if it’s okay. Is that enough? Let me go!"

"Still not enough."

"What more do you want?" Vishi, frustrated, pulled his hand to bite, sulkingly saying, "In transactions, I let you bully me; do you really need to humiliate me over this little thing!?"

Looking at the ferocious snake biting his arm, Ash chuckled and said, "I also want you to hold my hand all the way back until the door, then let go. How about that?"

Vishi cautiously watched him for a moment, then released her bite and asked, "Really let go at the door?"

"Really."

"Promise?"

"How could I dare lie to the Ghost Prophet?"

Reluctantly, Vishi gave up her struggle and led him forward, "Then let’s hurry back."

Only when passing through the bar street did Ash suddenly understand why Vishi was so against hand-holding. Clearly, they were concealed by a Miracle shield; ordinary people couldn’t notice them. But as they passed through the scattered crowd outside the bar, he found both his and Vishi’s palms were sweaty.

Hand-holding is the most fundamental yet obvious act of intimacy. You can’t always hug or kiss, but you can walk holding hands with your lover from street to street, to the ends of the earth.

Nothing conveys to strangers that you’re a couple more than holding hands. A hug might just be friendship, a kiss might be polite, but interlocked fingers only mean, I like you.

No wonder Vishi is so resistant; she could use insincerity as an excuse for anything she did with Ash, but hand-holding truly had no other explanation.

Ash originally thought holding hands was no big deal, but Vishi took it so seriously that even he felt a bit shy. When you think about it, it’s rather odd—a seasoned dumpster diver and a totally Evil Ghost Prophet, yet they were all innocent over this rookie level of intimacy like hand-holding...

The two hurriedly walked through the bar street, and after passing through the crowd, they instinctively sighed in relief, raising their heads to meet each other’s gaze, and couldn’t help but laugh out loud.

They didn’t rush to return; Ash held her hand and chose a secluded path. Vishi said nothing, as they took a slightly longer detour, quietly walking into a summer night filled with drizzle.

Will Vishi be willing to remain under someone’s control forever? Can Ash really keep her in check indefinitely?

Even they probably don’t have an answer.

But at least for now, they are willing to let the path be a bit longer, to allow this moment of Serenity to last a while longer.

Until the end, until forever.

"You’re cheating!"

In front of an all-day convenience store ahead, three children were crouching down play cards with a young man. The youth wore an eye-catching tall round hat, a flamboyant black and gold formal suit, and under his arm was a cane, with a pair of gold-rimmed glasses perched on his nose. He looked like a street-performing illusionist.

Faced with the children’s accusatory fingers, he wagged his finger, making a very obnoxious clicking sound, "Can’t win and so accuse others of cheating. With that attitude, no one will play with you. This time I forgive you, next time be more mindful."

"But you are cheating!" Another child said, "This card isn’t in the Weaving Card set, it’s one you made up yourself!"

"Evidence? Accusing someone without evidence is illegal!"

"The ink on it hasn’t even dried!" The third little girl took the card and wiped it, "It came off as soon as I wiped it!"

The youth quickly grabbed the card back, "What are you talking about, don’t smear my Rare Collectible Weaving Card! If you can’t bear losing, so be it. Would I, as an adult, bully you little brats?"

The three kids were so angry they ignored the physical disparity and directly rushed to hit him. Ash knew they were playing Weaving Cards, a tabletop game unique to the Kingdom of Gospel. He previously had played it with Banjee and Liss, but due to the card descriptions being vague and the improvisational space being huge, it always ended with him cheating, making them not want to play with him anymore.

He thought this tabletop game would fall out of favor sooner or later, but unexpectedly a year passed and it’s still thriving, with kids playing cards late at night.

"Alright, alright. If you admit I won, I’ll give you a Rare Collectible Card, how about that?" The youth, beaten so badly his hat fell off, had no choice but to compromise.

The children exchanged glances, unable to resist the lure of the Rare Collectible Card, "Alright then."

The youth quickly stuffed all the yogurt beef jerky that was laid on the ground into his satchel, casually opened an ice cream box, and began eating. It seemed like their card game involved a wager. Then he sat on the steps, took out a box of Weaving Cards, and laid them on the ground, "Each of you pick one card, but only one, okay?"

The boy on the far left flipped over a White Wolf Card, the youth said, "Drawing this card suggests that you might turn gray-haired due to Miracle in the future, then join a sorcerer group dedicated to slaying demons and monsters, being sterile all your life and only adopting a noble-born daughter, even though knowing many Female Mages you’ll end up with only one bard as a companion."

The boy in the middle drew a Dragon Card, the youth said, "Oh, you’ll become an inheritor of the ancient Sound Technique Faction and Dragon Roar Faction, joining warrior, thief, assassin, and magic factions successively, then slay several mighty dragons."

The little girl on the right drew a card with a burning candle, the young man said, "Your life will be exciting, exploring numerous mysterious ancient tombs, solving puzzles left by ancient mages, although encountering many dangers, you’ll always turn peril into safety, and grow increasingly beautiful."

The three children exchanged glances and rushed forward again, kicking and punching.

"How can we play with such cards!"

"These cards don’t say the things you just said!"

"All these cards are drawn by you, even I could draw better ones! Give me my yogurt back!"

The youth, as stubborn as a pig, remained undaunted by the beating, refused to return the stakes, and even accelerated his eating of beef jerky and yogurt. The kids were so aggravated they cried, wiping their eyes as they tearfully went home. This night saw three kids getting scolded for not going home due to playing cards.

Ash and Vishi watched this amusingly from the side, at this moment the youth tidied up his hat and clothes, took a hefty bite of beef jerky, then turned his head to look at the two of them. Noticing them holding hands, he couldn’t help but whistle.

"Good evening, Final Observer, Ghost Prophet." He laughed and asked, "Fancy a card game?"

Vishi froze, then her pupils contracted abruptly—they were under Miracle’s cover; even legendary mages might not necessarily detect their existence!

She was just about to erupt, but Ash blocked her, giving her a glance and shook his head ever so slightly. Vishi contained her hostility and quietly stood behind him.

"Although it was anticipated, seeing such a compliant Ghost Prophet still makes one marvel; if you live long enough, you might really see anything." The youth said with a grin.

"Who are you?" Ash asked.

"I have no name; this isn’t deliberately concealing anything. My name was lost a long time ago, as you know." The youth chuckled, "But surely you know who I am."

We all know...

A power stronger than a demigod...

Not swallowed by Level Six of Hell...

Neither a Divine Lord nor resembling an Angel, yet freely appearing in reality...

Most importantly, he lost his name.

A universally known entity among mages simultaneously emerged in Ash and Vishi’s minds.

The Drama Poet!

(Quick! Quick, give me! Hand over the monthly ticket or it’ll be too late!)