Ethan listened to Oliver's words and went quiet.
Sorcerers were selfish. Artificers could change how everyone lived.
For a fourteen-year-old brat, that was a pretty good way of thinking.
He looked at the lake and sank into thought.
'This world has magic, and I am a sandal,' he thought. 'If I want to stop being a sandal, I need a partner.'
His soul stirred.
'Alright,' he told himself. 'From now on, I have to act like a proper old master.'
He cleared his throat.
"Kid," Ethan said, "how about we make a deal?"
Oliver was still looking at the lake. He paused, then turned his head.
"A deal?" he repeated.
"Yes." Ethan tried to make his voice calm and mysterious. "Don't you want to become the greatest artificer in the kingdom? I can guarantee it"
Inside, he grinned.
'I will not make the same mistake again. Fake it till you make it.
In my old life I got rejected left and right, while my friend with fake portfolios got hired and learned the skills after.
In the end I got fired, and that bastard got a permanent job offer.'
Oliver frowned a little. "How?"
Ethan had been waiting for that question.
"I am not a normal soul," he said. "I am a person from another world. Where I came from, We made machines that could think on their own.
Machines that could learn, answer questions, even talk to people. We had metal beasts that moved by themselves without horses.
We had lights that never needed fire.
Weapons that could destroy a continent from so far away you would not even see the attacker."
In his heart, he coughed.
'Alright,' he thought. 'Technically I don't lie.'
He continued speaking smoothly, mixing his bait with Ethan own way of thinking.
"Just like what you say Your sorcerers train themselves for battle. That is fine, but it is for their own strength.
My world focused on tools. On things that anyone could use.
Even a weak person, if given the right tool, could do the work of ten strong men."
His tone grew a little more serious.
"If you learn to combine my knowledge with this world's," Ethan said, "you can create artifacts no one has seen before."
He paused for a breath.
"Other artificers here are walking on paths your predecessors already paved," Ethan said. "I can show you a better road."
Oliver's brows furrowed slightly. He did not speak, but he did not scoff either.
He lowered his head and looked at Ethan again.
It really was just a sandal. No rune circuits, no magic circles. He could not feel a trace of mana coming from it.
If he threw it into a pile of old shoes, no one would find it special.
But it was alive.
"And what do you want from me?" Oliver asked.
"It's not hard," Ethan said. "You carry me, follow my orders, and keep me safe. And…"
His tone lowered.
"You help me find a way to get a human body. Or at least something close. A body that can walk on its own and wear shoes instead of being one."
Oliver stared at him, speechless.
The condition sounded simple, but for some reason it felt like the sandal still hide many things.
He could understand the desire, though. If he woke up one day as a shoe, he would also want to stop being one.
"What kind of order you will give me?" Oliver asked.
Ethan was silent for a moment.
"I will not order you anything weird, I will just give you guidance on how to be the best artificer, as for you follow it or not that will depend on you, but don't blame me if you failed."
Inside, he muttered, 'I will just mix some impossible task later, this way he cannot blame me when he fail.'
Oliver did not answer right away.
He lifted Ethan with both hands, turning him around, checking the sole and the straps again.
"Are you sure you are not just bragging?" Oliver asked.
Ethan did not even flinch.
'Of course I am bragging,' he said in his heart. 'If I do not brag, why would you help me, kid?'
On the surface, his tone stayed calm.
"Of course not," he said.
"I have seen this world. My world is far ahead in technology.
Do you have machines that can think?
Do you have weapons that can blow up a whole continent from anywhere, no matter who presses the button?"
"No matter who? You mean even I could do it if I had this weapon?"
"Of course you could."
'As long as you have the nuke trigger, even a monkey could launch it,' he thought to himself.
But what he said was different.
"But I cannot give you a ready made recipe," Ethan continued.
"I will only give you the direction and the knowledge. How much you can achieve depends on your own hands."
This line, at least, he believed in.
Oliver stayed silent.
The wind moved across the lake again. Somewhere, a bird called and flew away.
In the end, Oliver exhaled.
"Your offer sound too good to b true," he said.
"I cannot prove I am telling the truth," Ethan said aloud.
"You also cannot prove I am lying. So we can only test it.
You try using my ideas. If they help, you keep going. If they ruin everything, you throw me into a ditch."
"Or sell you to the highest bidder, I'm sure many Master artificer will spend ton of money to dissect you" Oliver added.
Ethan's sole tightened.
"…cough," he said. "For starter, how about I give you a idea to made up with Fiona."
Oliver looked at him for a while, but before he can answer a calm voice came from behind.
"So you are here, Oliver."
Oliver turned his head.
Viscount Harrow stood a short distance away, hands clasped behind his back, looking at him with a gentle expression.
Oliver hurriedly stood up. He was about to bow, but a hand lightly pressed his shoulder and stopped him.
"No need for that kind of formality when no one else is around, Oliver," Harrow said. "You know I think of you like my own son."
Oliver straightened and looked up at him with respect.
"Uncle Harrow," he said softly. "Sorry for the mess I made."
Harrow smiled, a warm but tired smile.
"I should be the one saying sorry," he replied. "I am the one who made your path intersect with Fiona's in that way."
A hint of confusion flashed across Oliver's eyes.
"Uncle?" he asked.
Harrow looked over the lake for a moment before speaking again.
"Oliver, I really do not want to interfere between you and Fiona," he said slowly. "But you know this. She only reacts to you and that fox. She even ignores me like I don't exist."
His gaze darkened slightly.
"And you know the reason why. So I hope you can be more understanding toward her."
Oliver's hands clenched into fists.
The moment he was reminded of that day, anger rose first. Then guilt washed over it, heavy and cold.
"I am sorry, Uncle," he said through his teeth. "I will do my best."
Harrow shook his head.
"I still do not understand," he admitted.
"What happened between you two that made you like this?
After that tragedy, I thought it would bring you closer. Can you really not tell me?"
Oliver lowered his head.
"I am sorry, Uncle," he said quietly. "I promised her I would not tell anyone."
The scene from that day was still clear in his mind. How things had gone out of control.
How one incident had twisted the relationship between him and Fiona into what it was now.
Harrow let out a long sigh.
"You should go back," he said. "It will be night soon. If you want to stay here, you are always welcome. You know that."
"I think I will return, Uncle," Oliver replied. "If I meet Fiona again today, we will just end up fighting."
Harrow gave a small nod.
"Very well," he said. "Be careful on your way."
He turned and walked back toward the mansion, his back looking a little heavier with each step.
Oliver watched him until his figure disappeared among the trees.
Only then did he slowly unclench his fists. His gaze turned firm.
"Senior Ethan," he said, looking down at the sandal in his hand. "Can you really help me made up with Fiona?"