Richard stood up and stepped out of the library without paying much attention to the others.
He had forgotten about Olivia, but suddenly remembered Mr. Joe—still tied up.
Even so, as he walked along the road back to Mr. Joe’s house, the desire for more Aether overwhelmed him. He couldn’t resist drinking from the Aether Bottle. The energy merged with his body effortlessly.
[Aether: 876/1000 ] +6
[Aether Accumulation: 876 ]
"Closer to the target," he murmured happily.
When he entered Mr. Joe’s house, it was already dark—the torch had clearly run out of oil.
But from his own hand, a flame appeared. It was no larger than a ring hole, yet brighter than ten torches combined, illuminating the entire room. A simple thing for him to create, though he rarely bothered to use it.
In truth, that flame consumed barely a tenth of a single Aether.
Its brilliance came from his 90% affinity with the Fire Element, enhanced by the fact that it was born of Tier 3 Aether.
Even a flame that small could threaten an ordinary human.
That was why Richard dared to wander so freely. He knew he was not weak, even though he had yet to reach the Realm of Aether Will.
He tossed the flame toward the torch, and it blazed again—even without oil—lasting for several hours, though dimmer than it had been in his hand. Then he carried the torch into Mr. Joe’s room.
The old man was still bound, his mouth gagged with cloth.
His eyes were open, yet vacant—blinking only now and then.
When he saw Richard standing at the door, fear flickered in his gaze. Only now did he seem to realize the cruelty of the boy’s punishment: tied for nearly twenty-four hours, without food, without even the chance to breathe properly through his mouth.
Richard, however, felt no need to apologize.
He had explained once. He would not explain again.
He pulled the cloth from the old man’s mouth, then loosened the ropes.
Mr. Joe exhaled in relief the moment he was freed.
"Young Boss, I was wrong. Please... don’t punish me again," he begged, tears spilling down his cheeks.
His voice was pitiful.
An old man, his spirit broken, tied for nearly a day straight—he now seemed more like a frightened child.
Richard was reminded of the times he had subdued the other orphans until they bowed to him. Now, he had done the same to Mr. Joe.
If someone treated him as a subordinate, he would naturally act as their superior.
"Do you have money? I want us to have dinner—at a restaurant," Richard said.
"Yes, yes, of course... we’ll have dinner at a restaurant," Mr. Joe replied quickly.
And so, they left the house together.
Richard led his horse by the reins without riding it.
Since night had just fallen, Apple Town was at its liveliest. Work was done, but it was far from bedtime.
He saw many restaurants along the roadside, offering foods he had never seen before.
Richard knew well that he and Mr. Joe did not belong in a luxurious place, so he searched instead for something modest.
Though his appearance was unusual, his clothes were far too plain.
At last, he chose a corner restaurant with only one customer. It sold a dish he deeply missed—noodles in broth with boiled meat. To his delight, this world had its own version.
Richard said nothing as he entered, leaving Mr. Joe to order and pay. He simply waited, then began eating when the food arrived.
A look of satisfaction spread across his small face at the flavor.
While he ate, his attention was caught by another boy who entered the restaurant.
An indifferent face, messy brown hair, a tattered robe, strikingly handsome features marred by half-healed wounds, and a broken sword strapped to his back.
He looked utterly exhausted. He ordered two bowls of noodles and two cups of juice.
When the food came, he devoured it even more hungrily than Richard.
He seems just like me, Richard thought, sensing the hundreds of Aether accumulated within the boy’s body.
At fifteen years old, for Apple Town’s standards, he was a remarkable genius.
Richard’s unrelenting stare eventually drew the boy’s irritation.
"What are you looking at, brat?" he asked coldly, his sharp eyes narrowing.
He had every right to call him that—Richard wasn’t even half his age.
But Richard didn’t look away. From the beginning, he hadn’t cared if the boy grew angry.
"I want to know something..." Richard responded.
"What?" the boy muttered, frowning, clearly not expecting such a reply from a seven-year-old.
"You seem to have just returned from a battle. Was it against humans or beasts? Where do people of your level fight?" Richard asked casually, his curiosity unhidden.
When he had spoken with Olivia, he had focused on the world at large, not Apple Town itself—thinking of it as only a brief stop.
But now, this boy seemed like a direct source of the knowledge he sought.
The boy seemed caught off guard by his words.
Then he gave a cold sneer.
"What’s it to you, brat? Do you want to fight too?" he mocked.
"No. I only want to see others like you suffer wounds from their weakness," Richard answered calmly.
The boy’s face darkened, clearly feeling mocked.
"Young Boss, I know where he fights," Mr. Joe suddenly whispered into Richard’s ear. "But it’s not a place for mere spectators. Best not to provoke that boy—he may be a Magus."
Richard stopped paying attention to the boy altogether. With his new source of information secured, he simply returned to his noodles.