ᛖᚡᛖᚱᚤ ᚲᛚᛟᚢᛞ ᚺᚨᛋ ᚨ ᛋᛁᛚᚡᛖᚱ ᛚᛁᚾᛁᚾᚷ

Chapter 6

    For as long as he could remember, he had always felt like he was searching for someone. It lingered deep within him—a feeling he could not shake. He did not remember who this person was. He did not remember where they had met, or even why he was searching. He only knew that he missed them terribly. And every time a flash of that person’s image crossed his mind, a tight ache gripped his chest, leaving him on the verge of tears. He did not know where this torment would ever end.

    He even went to see a psychiatrist to find a way to heal. The doctor diagnosed him with a psychological phenomenon called déjà vu. The word déjà vu, from French, meant ’already seen.’ Scientists believed it was a brain phenomenon, not something supernatural. The decision-making part of the brain constantly reviewed memories, looking for inconsistencies when recalling them. When it detected something out of place, that was when the déjà vu sensation occurred.

    He tried going to doctors, seeking a cure for this déjà vu because it sometimes interfered with his life. But nothing worked. Until one day, it was as if fate smiled upon him. At a red carpet auction of ancient artifacts, a painting by a legendary artist from the year 1403 was put up for bid, starting at five million pounds.

    Jaden was not particularly fond of paintings. He had intended to pass on this piece since he had already won the bid for an ancient ruby-studded crown he planned to add to his collection. But what made him unable to look away from this painting was the figure the artist had brought to life on the canvas.

    The painting’s title was: The White Wizard of the Muguet Forest. A ginger-haired man, his eyes shimmering with colors, standing amidst a herb garden, with a plump black cat nestled close by his side. It pulled him in, compelling him to raise his bidding paddle, going head-to-head with billionaire art collectors.

    “Fifteen million.”

    “Sixteen million.”

    “…Twenty million.”

    It was a fierce bidding war, drawing the attention of numerous media outlets. For the first time, the name Jaden Shakur appeared in the news—as the young billionaire art enthusiast. In the end, the painting was hammered down at thirty million pounds.

    The fifteen-hundred-year-old painting was placed in a secure frame and delivered to the Shakur family estate the next morning. According to the painting’s history, the person depicted was a close friend of the artist who had created it.

    Back in those days, hiring someone to model for a painting came with considerable cost. The man in the painting had volunteered to pose to help raise money because both he and the artist were broke.

    After acquiring the painting, Jaden’s restless yearning began to ease. Until one day, an antique dealer—knowing his interest in this kind of artwork—offered him two similar paintings at prices so high they bordered on extortion. And what was even more chillingly coincidental was that the person in the paintings was the same man—the only difference was the time periods and locations of the artists who had painted them.

    The painting Jaden had won at auction was created in Italy in 1403. One of the dealer’s pieces was painted in Romania in 1515, while the other bore no artist’s name, but had been painted by a Chinese artist during the Han Dynasty, 202 BC.

    Jaden had never thought he could be someone who would get so attached to anything—until he owned these paintings. They sparked something inside him, leading him to pull strings and travel the world searching for any artwork connected to the man in these paintings. To this day, he had collected over a hundred pieces from every corner of the globe.

    The muscular man sat, hugging his knees on the bare floor of an empty room in the Shakur estate. His sea-blue eyes scanned the artwork he had spent nearly ten years collecting—from ancient paintings to black-and-white photographs—of the ginger-haired man, his opalescent eyes shimmering with color.

    He had invested massively in this. So much money that anyone who knew about it thought he was crazy. But who could understand… These paintings filled a void inside him, something missing that they somehow completed. In the end, maybe fate took pity on his persistence, granting him the chance to meet someone exactly like the man in the paintings—through streaming.

    The other party was a mysterious magic user, likely a direct descendant of the man in the paintings. The oldest recorded age for a magic user was 210 years. In two hours, it would be time for his meeting with the streamer at a café in Richmond. He was excited and anxious, filled with questions. He hoped this meeting would finally give him answers about what had haunted him since the day he could remember.

    On Joel’s side, he woke up early to gather herbs from his garden at the first light of day. He collected thyme and sage into a basket, then quickly moved to the flower bed to gather dew from Toulouse Lautrec roses, bottling it carefully.

    Today, he would brew a luck potion as a gift for Daddy J. Even though the man had asked for nothing in return except to meet and have tea together for an hour. Miguel had told him that, if he had found himself a golden-legged donor, he should hold on tight. Bring him a gift—it would stop the guy from overthinking when it came to hitting that donate button again. Which was exactly why Joel had dragged himself out of bed before dawn to prepare the potion.

    He really just felt indebted and wanted to repay the other party—absolutely no hidden intentions at all. Seriously. Totally seriousssss.

    The slender wizard walked back into the house, heading straight to the potion supplies room. He placed the basket of herbs on the table before turning to gather the various ingredients needed to brew a luck potion, piling them onto the island in the center of the room. After grabbing the cauldron and his wand, Joel set everything up and got to work immediately so as not to waste time.

    He poured dew water into the cauldron, then cast a spell to light the fire because he could not be bothered to fetch charcoal. He turned back and finely chopped thyme and sage leaves. Just as the herbs were ready, the water in the cauldron began to boil. Joel lowered the heat and added gold powder and dragon belly scales, followed by the sage and thyme.

    The slender figure continued stirring the mixture non-stop for an hour, counterclockwise, infusing it steadily with magic until the liquid began to glow golden. With a flick of his wand, Joel extinguished the fire and added a pinch of golden fairy dust. Instantly, white specks with a golden shimmer burst from the cauldron. The little white wizard folded his arms, smiling with pride. The SSS+ grade luck potion was complete.

    Romeo, who had come to sit and offer moral support, raised his front paw and batted playfully at the swirling golden specks. Today’s brew should yield about three bottles. One would go to Daddy J., another for Miguel for emergencies, and the last bottle he planned to give to the staff member who had helped him choose a camera that day. This time, he would also pick up a V-liveBox.

    Joel busied himself around the house until noon before heading to the bathroom again to freshen up and get dressed. He was about to meet the golden-legged follower that Miguel had advised him to hold onto tightly. He chose to wear an oversized white shirt paired with gray cargo pants, secured with suspenders, and a gray knit beanie that matched the pants.

    “I’m heading to Miguel’s shop, Romeo. Want to join me for some tea and snacks?”

    Meowwwwww.

    The plump cat brushed his soft fur against Joel’s pale legs before leaping onto the stair railing, signaling that he did not feel like going out today and would stay to watch over the house. Joel nodded in understanding, put on his shoes, and stepped outside.

    “Oh... I’ve got important errands today. Please don’t mess up my clothes.”

    The little wizard said as he walked off the porch toward the storage shed where the broom was probably hiding. The drizzle falling from the sky did not wet Joel as it should have; in fact, the rain seemed to avoid touching him altogether. But today, the broom was sulking and refused to come out of the shed because of the damp weather. So, Joel opted to take the free public transport to Miguel’s shop in Richmond.

    He arrived at Miguel’s place at two in the afternoon to discuss and prepare in case Daddy J. tried anything sneaky or untoward. The little wizard opened the door to the shop, which was adorned with wood and stone, and walked straight to the office without asking anyone’s permission. After all, everyone working there knew him well.

    “Oh, you’re here already.”

    “Mhm! I brought you a luck potion too.”

    Pale, slender hands extended a small paper bag to the woman sitting on the sofa. Miguel let out a delighted squeal and hurried over to accept it with reverence. The potion Joel had brewed guaranteed a 98% effectiveness rate. If one were to buy it from a potion shop run by wizards, it would easily cost over a hundred pounds depending on its potency.

    “So, what’s the plan? You are staying in here or waiting outside?”

    “I think I’ll sit outside, have some tea, and try out social media.”

    “Old man… just go. I’ve set up a little date spot for you already. I guarantee it’s got a great view and total privacy—certified by the shop owner herself.”

    “What date are you talking about, Miguel!”

    A small fist playfully thudded against the woman’s upper arm. Miguel chuckled and shooed the little white wizard outside, while she headed into the kitchen to order his favorite fruit juice and some light snacks to be served at Joel’s table. The full tea set would wait until Daddy J. arrived at three o’clock.

    Joel was thoroughly enjoying exploring this new world of the Swallow app. On this app, he could post messages and pictures, so he registered a new account under the name Joel’s Cauldron, just like on UCL. He snapped a photo of the snacks and juice that had just been served and posted it. Not long after, many of his channel’s fans quickly followed his account.

    He had several recipes for restorative drinks that ordinary people could make and had been thinking of sharing them. But showing the recipes and making them on stream seemed a bit boring. He figured it would be better to post the ingredients on SL so everyone could make the drinks together.

    Exactly at three o’clock sharp, not a minute early or late, a tall, broad-shouldered man walked into the shop. He wore a long-sleeved white dress shirt with the sleeves casually rolled up to his elbows and a pair of navy blue slacks. In his hands were a minimalist bouquet of lilies and a paper bag carrying a jewelry box. His style was simple and clean, but anyone familiar with high-end brands would know that his entire outfit, from head to toe, totaled close to twenty thousand pounds.

    Sharp blue eyes, the color of the sea, scanned the shop until they landed on the person he had asked to meet—someone sitting in the innermost corner, a private spot. Red ginger hair and pale skin stood out strikingly against the natural materials decorating this tea café.

    Jaden swallowed hard, a wave of nervousness washing over him. But along with it surged a mix of overwhelming emotion and yearning so intense it made him want to cry, the feelings left his chest ache. He did not understand what was happening to him. His long legs carried him steadily toward the table—neither too fast nor too slow.

    Joel lifted his gaze from his smartphone when he heard footsteps approaching. As he looked up at the newcomer, the moment his opalescent, pupil-less eyes met the man’s deep blue sea gaze, the memories he had locked away in the depths of his mind resurfaced like a film playing on repeat.

    ‘There, there, don’t cry, little one. Your cries will attract predators. Would you like a candy?’

    ‘Lost again? What a poor, unlucky child you are. Come, I’ll take you to the edge of the forest.’

    ‘I... I l... love you!’

    ‘Why won’t you speak to me anymore? I can hear now. My ears have healed—I can hear again.’

    Amidst the faint drizzle outside, the nostalgic scent of muguet lingered at the tip of his nose, vivid and unmistakable. It mingled with the scent of firewood smoke, the charred smell of burning flesh, and the searing pain of flames licking at his skin. The man approaching him resembled that man so closely that Joel instinctively recoiled, pressing his body against the back of his chair.

    That man—he was like the red string of fate that tied their love together.

    And Joel had been the one to cut that red string with his own hands.