"Miss Lovegood! Are you saying you want to be my first investor?!"
Letting a ten-year-old girl fund his art… wasn't that just a bit too embarrassing…
"I'd be delighted, Miss Lovegood," Ethan said, eyes sparkling.
He had considered submitting his artwork to magazines and journals before.
But the issues were always the same—he didn't have professional materials, he was too young, and no one had the discerning eye to appreciate his art.
One rejection letter had even read: 'You should compensate me for the psychological damage caused by viewing this piece.'
Bloody hell!!
It was a biology journal! What was wrong with submitting professionally drawn anatomical illustrations?!
But now, at long last, Ethan had found a kindred spirit.
Even if she hadn't seen his art yet.
He wouldn't let her regret it.
Luna blinked, a little confused as to why the boy had suddenly started calling her "Miss Lovegood."
But for reasons she couldn't explain, she was absolutely certain—if he could talk with her like this, his drawings must be wonderful.
"Alright, it's settled then."
Luna nodded, giving Ethan a small, pursed smile.
"I'll talk to my dad when I get home. Oh, right, he's the editor of The Quibbler."
"Hmm… I think we still haven't found a suitable illustration for the article 'Prolonged Broomstick Use and Broom Rash.' You see, everyone's still flying around on broomsticks. And those who've got it never let anyone see their buttocks."
She said it with a completely straight face.
Ethan suddenly realized—
The reason he could carry such a smooth conversation with this ten-year-old witch was that Luna actually spoke in a very organized, logical way.
Especially when she had a lot to say—she always made her point clearly.
Most kids just blurt out whatever comes to mind, one sentence at a time, often resulting in a chaotic mess.
…Maybe that's why people found Luna's words so bizarre—because they could actually understand her.
"I'll make sure people understand just how serious 'broom rash' really is. You have my word," Ethan replied confidently.
He flashed a bright, self-assured smile.
With his material problem solved—and even a magazine willing to publish his work—Ethan's mood instantly brightened like a cloudless sky.
Luna's pale gold hair shimmered in the sunlight, her fair face glowing with a warm halo in Ethan's eyes.
Luna, you little angel!
At the same time, Ethan made a silent vow to himself.
He would use his extraordinary art to bring The Quibbler into the public spotlight.
Take down the Daily Prophet!
Meanwhile—
Back at the offices of The Daily Prophet, someone suddenly felt a chill run down their spine.
As if they were being watched by something evil…
Tsk. Must be their imagination.
After all, the greatest terror—the "Dark Lord"—was already gone… wasn't he?
—
After buying all his school supplies, Ethan stopped by the bookstore to gather reference materials. He flipped through titles like Complete Punishments of the 16th Century, Common Magical Injuries and How to Treat Them, and Witch-Hunting Truths You Never Knew.
It was incredibly fruitful.
By the time the sun set and the crimson glow dyed the sky, Ethan parted ways with Luna.
"I'll write you when I get home," Luna said. "It's a shame, really. I would've invited you over if it weren't for the freshwater colorfish flood in our house lately."
"I'm looking forward to it," Ethan replied with a smile.
The wind brushed against his cheek, tousling his black hair. His cobalt-blue eyes curved gently as he smiled, and his long, inky lashes cast a delicate shadow below.
Even in his thin, worn-out clothes, his striking presence couldn't be hidden—he drew attention wherever he went.
Luna stared at him dazedly, only snapping out of it when his figure disappeared around the street corner.
"…I made a new friend. Dad's going to be so pleased."
She mumbled cheerfully to herself, then—without a care for what anyone thought—bounded off like a little deer toward her father, who was already waiting for her.
—
Spinner's End.
When Ethan got home, it wasn't long before a grayish dawn rolled in, blanketed in fog—and with it, an owl from Luna's house.
It brought an entire set of painting supplies.
Included were: a 12-color set of oil paints, a bottle of turpentine, a pad of oil painting paper, and three paintbrushes of different sizes.
They weren't high-end tools—just the basics.
Compared to the "heavy artillery" of his former life's art studio, this was barely a corner of the gear. Even the canvases back then came in ranked tiers.
But now, Ethan cradled the materials in his ink-darkened fingertips like they were treasures.
In this simple, drab room—covered in black-and-white sketches—these were the only splashes of vivid color.
Also delivered was a letter from Luna:
[To my dear friend Ethan:]
Dad and I talked it over—he's very happy to publish your work and is looking forward to seeing what you'll create. I think we should illustrate "Broom Rash" in our first issue together. Here's the draft.
Once you've finished the drawing, please give the original to Carrot—the owl who delivered this letter.
We'll make copies at my house, then send the original back to you to keep.
Looking forward to your reply,Luna
P.S. I hope I didn't pick the wrong art supplies. They're made from "naturally derived, animal-based raw pigments." I thought it sounded really fun.
By the time he finished reading, a smile had unconsciously spread across Ethan's lips.
He looked up at the gray-blue owl perched on his windowsill. The owl looked back at him with bright golden eyes.
"Hoo?"
The owl tilted its head a full ninety degrees and blinked at him.
Idiot.
Ethan chuckled softly, waved it over, and poured it a dish of water.
As for food…
This was Spinner's End. There was no shortage of trash to scavenge from.
Without delay, Ethan began preparing to draw.
He scrubbed his hands clean at the sink, carefully dried them, then opened the sketchpad.
Running his fingers over the cream-colored texture of the paper, Ethan felt the flames of his artistic spirit flare to life.
An illustration of broom rash, was it?
Perfect.
He would make sure no one could ever dismiss the article as some ridiculous joke again—not after seeing this.
His excitement soared. Inspiration surged like a fountain, gushing through his mind.
Ethan picked up his brush—he still couldn't transfigure his wand into his personal paintbrush yet.
He dipped into the red pigment and began painting with full concentration.
Gradually, the faint scent of blood began to permeate the air.
By the time the sun had risen and fallen again, leaving the room dim, Ethan finally set down his brush.
He was pale and breathing hard.
Yet his cobalt-blue eyes shone like starlight, wide and entranced as they stared at the painting.
From an outsider's perspective, he would've looked… strange. Even a little disturbing.
The once-white canvas was now completely saturated in red.
[Extraordinary Artwork Detected — Automatically Added to Gallery]
[Title: Broom Rash]
[Type: Painting]
[Grade: Tier One – White Rarity]
[Description: "Check out this article—'Broom Rash'? What the hell? Hahaha, ridiculous!—Wait, what part of your body is talking to me?!"]
[Effects:① Causes intense discomfort in viewers, may trigger broomstick-related PTSD;② When used, may cause mild rashes to appear on the touched body part]
[Note: Can be upgraded further if used in combination with suitable spells]
[Current Gallery Count: 2 Paintings]
[Newcomer Gift Pack Progress: 2/5]
It was done!