[Calm Down a Second].
Yep. That was the skill Rita had just used to light the fishman’s cigarette.
Its only real quirk was that it didn’t cost mana—just a bit of emotional energy. And for a few seconds after using it, Rita would feel unusually calm.
Which was probably why she didn’t laugh just now.
Still, no matter how you spun it, it was basically... a magical lighter.
What kind of concept was this?!
And she got... a lighter!
When she complained about it, Lightchaser told her she didn’t know a good deal when she saw one.
Rita disagreed. Every time she remembered that class, she lost her appetite.
After that, she got smarter.
She figured it out. Lightchaser wasn’t shelling out this kind of money so she could learn flashy skills. If Lightchaser wanted to teach her those, she could’ve done it herself.
What she really wanted was for Rita to pick up experience—the kind only true survivors had.
Everyone in Garbage Street, every one of those "evil" divine talents who’d lived long enough to earn a spot in Asaein, had one hell of a life behind them.
Lightchaser wanted Rita to take in their stories and draw her own lessons.
As for why Lightchaser never shared her own stories—Rita had the sense not to ask.
Just like Lightchaser never asked why Rita, a kid who clearly came from a loving home, had ended up wandering Gilane.
Just like Lightchaser never asked what those two magical artifacts on her hand were, or what they could do.
It definitely wasn’t because Rita was scared to ask.
A puff of cigarette smoke drifted toward her.
Today’s teacher had been quiet for a long while before finally saying, "Alright, kid. I’ll teach you how to lie."
He clarified, "I mean the kind of lies that can fool even S-rank lie-detection skills."
Then the fishman curled his thick lips into a grin. "Well? You in?"
Rita raised her hand and shouted, "I want to learn the art of lying!"
The catfish-headed man leaned back and laughed the rich man’s laugh. "Good. Then your first lesson: whenever you want to lie, you need to craft a story—**in your own head—**that makes the lie true."
That was always how it was. The moment Rita stopped asking for skills and just wanted to hear about life, these powerhouses would talk for hours.
Sometimes Lightchaser would disappear for a day or two. Rita would wait for her at the tavern after her shift until 3:30, and if she didn’t show, Rita would fly a few blocks to the West District library to read.
Worth noting: Burrowbug Tavern was in the West District. When she and Lightchaser had entered Asaein, it had also been through the west gate.
So in over half a month... she hadn’t even finished exploring a single district.
The Asaein public library offered free access to anyone under 15. A soul-age detection array sat at the entrance, and no ID was needed.
Though at the moment, Rita was still learning to read.
Back on Earth, she’d only been a grade-schooler. Her vocabulary wasn’t that deep. Here, in this new world, her entire education level was basically her Earth knowledge, converted into another system.
So aside from reading the occasional comic book, she spent most of her library time learning how to read and write properly.
Trying to connect her speaking and listening skills with reading and writing.
That day, she was hunched over her notebook, writing bad things about Lightchaser one stroke at a time, when a mini white kiddie motorcycle rolled up beside her.
It stopped with a soft click and spoke in a childish mechanical voice:
"Is this seat taken?"
Rita blinked for a full three seconds before stammering, "Uh... n-no. Please sit."
This world was too free.
To her astonishment, the mini motorcycle transformed just like a Transformer—becoming a child-sized humanoid made of countless little mechanical parts.
He looked about her height. Probably also a kid.
After the brief interruption, Rita went back to her studies.
At 8:00 PM, she would pack up and head home. On the way, she’d grab some takeout from a food stall or diner—something for Lightchaser.
That glutton of an elf could eat enough in one meal to feed Rita for three days.
She only did this because Lightchaser had promised to send her to Moonlight Marsh for school.
...Though she’d been forced to sign a massive IOU.
The tuition for a single term at Moonlight Marsh, the cost of living, all the tutoring in Garbage Street, plus past "travel lesson" fees, and more and more and more...
Add in inflation, magical interest, Lightchaser’s "emotional investment"—Rita had interrupted with an "Ah?!" at that part and earned a kick.
All things considered, the total came out to one conclusion:
Once Rita graduated, she’d owe Lightchaser 50,000 gold.
And according to Lightchaser, that was just the starting point. First-term tuition was "cheap" because young kids didn’t need expensive learning resources.
In other words: the bill was only going to grow from here.
Rita curled into a ball on the couch and wailed, "I should’ve just let Mistblade adopt me! She said she’d pay my school fees!"
Lightchaser, waving her meter-long itemized bill, snorted coldly.
"Too late. You’ve accepted my investment. There’s no turning back now."
Seeing Rita sprawled on the couch like she’d lost the will to live, Lightchaser gave her a kick to the foot and tried to be "encouraging."
"Chin up, kid. When you grow up, you can take on your own apprentice to pay off your debts!"
She panicked. Really panicked.
After all this time with Lightchaser, she knew exactly how fast her teacher could make money.
"I mean, you’re already rich!" she grumbled. "Why are you charging me interest like a loan shark?! Give me a deadline and I’ll double it! Why does the amount just keep growing?!"
Wait, what?! That sounded important!
And... did she just say also?
Dead-eyed, Rita lifted her head from the couch and asked, "Wait... you too? Did you go to school thanks to your teacher’s ’support’ and end up with a mountain of student debt?"
Lightchaser stared out the window.
For the first time, she looked... almost sorrowful.
"Yeah," she said. "I still owe 500,000."
Rita inhaled sharply. "How long since you graduated?!"
Lightchaser: "Thirty-five years."
Before Rita could recover from her shock, Lightchaser flashed a bright, utterly insincere smile and delivered what she claimed was "good news":
"Don’t be so down. There’s one great benefit to being my apprentice."
Rita raised her head again, hopeful. "What is it? Connections? Magical tools?"
"If I die, my debt passes to you. My teacher will come find you."
Rita’s expression went blank as she tried not to look like a future supervillain. She asked cautiously, "How old is your teacher now?"
Lightchaser was far more honest. "She’s got about 700 years left."
Rita grabbed the nearest pillow and shoved it over her head, trying to smother herself.