Andre's expression subtly shifted. A trace of wariness flickered in his eyes before quickly giving way to his usual calm demeanor.
As a prince raised within the palace and well-versed in political intricacies, he immediately understood the hidden meaning behind Ron's words.
"You're trying to get involved with the Black Market?" Andre's voice lowered slightly. "That's not a wise move, especially considering the current situation."
Ron didn't answer directly. He remained silent, patiently waiting for Andre to continue.
Andre let out a long sigh. "If it's just for research into Magic Potions, I can give you some guidance."
He walked over to the window, subtly checking for any unusual magical fluctuations nearby. Confirming the surroundings were safe, he spoke again.
"Underground transactions in the Black Mist Forest primarily take place in three locations:
"The safest is the special exchange held at the Sunset Tavern. The guards stationed there ensure a secure and discreet trading environment.
"Next is Lizard Lane. It doesn't offer additional protection, but the variety of items available far exceeds those at the Sunset Tavern.
"The third place is Blackwater Bay. It's the most dangerous of the three. Rumor has it that even Formal Wizards sometimes find valuable items there."
Ron carefully took note of the information, but what stood out more than the words was Andre's familiarity with these places. Clearly, this wasn't mere hearsay.
"There are a few things you must be very cautious about when making transactions," Andre continued, his tone laden with the weight of experience.
"First, never reveal your true identity. Second, bring enough magic stone shards, but don't carry all of them on your person. Third, it's best to have a trustworthy middleman introduce you—the first transaction is always the riskiest."
He paused, then looked directly at Ron, his gaze meaningful.
"And above all, don't be greedy. Only purchase what you absolutely need—and leave immediately."
Ron nodded. "It sounds like you're quite familiar with these dealings."
Andre offered a complex smile. "In the Black Mist Forest, survival often demands... special methods."
He didn't elaborate further, but Ron understood. In this harsh world, everyone had their own way of getting by—even the noble-born Thirteenth Prince.
"Thank you for your advice," Ron said sincerely. "I'll be cautious."
The two chatted for a while longer, discussing their recent circumstances. Eventually, Andre bid farewell and left.
Now alone, Ron began to reflect on everything he had just learned.
Oliver's sudden visit, the changes in the underground potion trade, and Marcus's malicious gaze—all of it seemed to converge into a looming sense of foreboding.
But Ron was no longer the timid, fragile apprentice he used to be.
His recent mental breakthrough had given him the strength to rival higher-level apprentices. Moreover, the career linkage system hidden within him was a trump card far more powerful than anything others could imagine.
"No matter what Oliver's plotting," Ron muttered, clenching his fists, "as long as I'm given time to grow, everything will be resolved."
He pulled out Darrend's notebook and resumed his research into the Conception of Sonic Spells.
Since Oliver had shown interest in it, the spell could very well become a pivotal key in the coming confrontation.
His research stretched over several hours, and before he realized it, the sky had begun to darken.
Ron rubbed his eyes, stood up, and made a decision. He would pay a visit to the herbal shop.
First, he needed to inform Mrs. Ellen that he had been released from confinement ahead of schedule. Second, he had questions for the experienced old pharmacist—especially regarding Oliver and high-level meditation techniques.
As he made his way toward the shop, the sun cast a reddish glow over the Black Mist Forest, dyeing the entire scene with an eerie hue. The market had grown quiet; most of the crowd had already dispersed.
Arriving at the herbal shop, Ron was surprised to find the door tightly shut. The familiar vines that acted as the magical door sign had coiled together to spell: "Shop Closed."
Ron frowned. It was unusual. Mrs. Ellen's shop typically stayed open later.
Just as he was about to turn and leave, he stopped in his tracks.
With the heightened perception brought on by his advancement to apprentice, he detected an unusual flow of magical energy behind the door.
It wasn't threatening, but it certainly wasn't the kind of calm that should be present after closing hours.
After a moment of hesitation, Ron knocked gently on the door.
"Who is it?" came a weary voice from inside—an old, familiar voice.
"It's me, Ron," he replied softly.
There was a brief pause. Then, an almost inaudible sigh came from within.
"I'm very busy right now. If it's not urgent, come back tomorrow morning."
Ron could sense the subtle irritation beneath Mrs. Ellen's words.
He didn't want to disturb her. As an adult with basic emotional intelligence, he understood when to withdraw.
"I understand, Madam. Then I'll come again tomorrow," Ron said politely, already turning to leave.
"Wait…"
Mrs. Ellen's voice suddenly changed. This time, there was a note of hesitation in her tone.
"Come in. Since you're already here…"
With a soft metallic groan, the enchanted door opened automatically.
Ron stepped cautiously into the dim shop. The familiar aroma of herbs filled the air, but this time, it was laced with a fragrance he didn't recognize.
It was similar to tuberose but richer, almost overwhelmingly sweet and cloying.
The interior lighting was dim. Only a few weak magical crystal lamps were lit, casting a soft haze throughout the shop.
Then he saw her.
Behind the counter stood a young woman organizing ledgers.
She had stunning long, wavy hair—pinkish-purple in hue—cascading like a waterfall, shimmering under the faint light like something from a dream.
Her side profile was exquisite and delicate. Porcelain skin glowed with health, and her large eyes sparkled like precious gems.
But her most striking feature was her high, elegant nose bridge. Its noble, sculpted curve made her already-beautiful face nearly flawless.
"You are...?" Ron asked, confused. He scanned the shop, searching for any sign of Mrs. Ellen.
The woman wore a loose silken nightgown. The wide neckline and sleeves had slipped slightly, revealing stretches of fair skin and a breathtakingly curvaceous figure.
What was more unsettling than alluring was the natural way she stood—completely unaware of the visual impact she had. It wasn't deliberate seduction, which only made it more dangerous.
This was entirely unlike the image Ron had of the elderly herbalist with a hunched back, wrinkled face, and hooked nose.
"What's wrong, little fellow? Don't recognize me?" the woman asked, turning slightly.
Her tone—familiar and scratchy—sent chills down his spine.
Those eyes.
They were unmistakably dark green—Mrs. Ellen's eyes.
"Mrs. Ellen?!" Ron stared in disbelief.
The woman laughed softly. That laugh—it was the exact same raspy chuckle Ron knew so well, except now it came from the lips of someone who looked barely eighteen or nineteen. The contradiction was eerie.
"It seems my transformation shocked you quite a bit."
She set down the ledger, leaned forward over the counter, and unknowingly loosened her gown's neckline even more.
Ron tried not to stare.
"How... how did you become like this?" he asked, still in disbelief.
Mrs. Ellen's lips curved into a smile. "A little alchemical experiment, combined with some rare herbs and a special secret technique. Temporary, of course—but useful."
Ron was speechless.
To think the seemingly frail old woman had such a trump card up her sleeve.
"I was going to wait until tomorrow to explain, but I suppose now is as good a time as any," Mrs. Ellen said casually. "There are many eyes watching this forest lately. You must be more careful, Ron."
Her tone had regained its serious edge.
Ron nodded. "Understood."
Whatever was coming, one thing was now clear—Mrs. Ellen was far more than she appeared to be.
And from now on, nothing in the Black Mist Forest could be taken at face value.
t.
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