Ethan. I'm going to create a world without you.
It was like he heard that roar in his ears as he got slammed into the floor with a perfect shoulder throw.
Ivy glared down at Ethan, who lay spread-eagle across the cabin boards.
Noble etiquette barely prevented her from stomping her boot onto his chest.
She had always been a woman of manners—
But after that sneeze sent her finger straight into the ocean, she'd still cursed.
Her first swear word in her entire life…
Had been dedicated to Ethan.
After a long stare, she spoke through gritted teeth.
"Next time someone is using a teleportation spell—don't sneeze."
Old Mu recovered from his shock too, and quietly exhaled in relief.
Thank goodness she wasn't here to beat him up.
"Containment Bureau recruited a knight?" Old Mu asked, sounding impressed.
"I'm not a knight."
"What? Only knights have the strength to throw someone that perfectly!"
Old Mu had watched Ethan spin through the air in a flawless rotation and land like a dramatic stage performance at the Imperial Opera House.
Ethan lay there silently, listening.
In truth, Ivy's technique was even more refined than Old Mu assumed. She'd held back so it looked explosive without actually hurting. If Ivy entered professional wrestling, she'd be an all-star.
She wasn't trying to erase him from the world.
She was venting.
And Ethan had learned a new piece of life-saving knowledge:
Sneezing during teleportation could send someone into the sea.
Productive day.
Even if the fall didn't hurt, Ethan didn't get up right away.
A simple rule: if your boss just shoulder-threw you, you don't immediately hop up like nothing happened. That's how you embarrass your boss.
Today she used martial technique.
If he pushed her further, next time she might use something far worse.
Ethan stayed down, quietly observing Ivy and Old Mu's exchange while Old Mu packed the outpost equipment into a crate. Ivy then pulled out a gold-trimmed savings card and slapped it onto the counter like a queen.
Pay and receive. Clean and decisive.
Ethan recognized his cue and finally rose, drifting toward the counter with an almost ghostly obedience and hugging the crate to his chest.
Oddly enough, that ridiculous little act made Ivy's anger ebb.
She was still soaked, uncomfortable from head to toe.
Her original plan—to show Ethan around—was ruined the moment she ended up swimming to shore. A lady did not stroll around with drenched clothing. Absolutely not.
The deck above was noisier than expected. A commotion had drawn a crowd, and people were talking with their arms folded—mostly gloating.
Only fools picked fights on Lofik Consortium turf. This kind of entertainment was rare.
Ethan spotted a familiar face.
The young man who'd been scammed out of a gold lion looked worse than before. Guards held him down by the shoulders, grinding his face into the deck. His eyes were bloodshot, teeth bared in pain, but he couldn't do anything against the strength gap.
Ivy noticed Ethan's gaze.
"You know him?"
"Yes," Ethan said solemnly. "He's my teacher."
"…Teacher?"
Ivy blinked.
The youth wore a mask; she couldn't see his real face at all.
"He's from Brookwood Town?"
"No idea. Don't know him. Never met him."
Ethan shook his head.
"But he taught me, with his own life, how dangerous Wallhearth Bay is."
Ivy's eyelid twitched.
Ethan's brain was not built like a normal person's.
Probably too many years obsessing over mysticism and dark creatures—his cognition might've been warped by evil god influence.
"Good," Ivy said, tone clipped. "Then stay here. Don't run around. I need to go somewhere first."
"Mm."
Ethan set the heavy crate down.
He noticed Ivy carrying a black pouch that jingled with bright, crystalline sounds—very likely stuffed with gold lions.
She headed straight for the captain's cabin, guarded by sailors and armed men—the kind of place free-to-play peasants weren't allowed.
Ethan wisely melted back into the crowd to watch the spectacle.
Boss business was not your business.
That kind of curiosity led to knowing things you should never know.
Advance Chapters available on Patreon
patreon.com/Inkveil_