The figure beneath the cloak leaned behind the counter, the quill in its fingers scratching softly across the parchment.
The quill that called itself the “Accounting Pen” seemed to possess a spirit of its own, its tip hovering half an inch above the page.
Ink-black words appeared by themselves, each stroke carrying an ancient rhythm, as though it were writing some unknown contract.
The air felt like amber frozen in place.
Even the sound of the rain outside seemed to drift farther away, leaving only the faint rasp of the pen against the parchment echoing again and again through the silent shop.
Luna stood rooted to the spot.
The cold sweat seeping from her palms had soaked through the crumpled flyer in her hand.
Her pale gray eyes stared fixedly at the darkness beneath the cloak, and her heart pounded so hard it felt as though it might shatter her ribs.
She could feel it.
Something was quietly changing.
On one of the shelves, a chipped tin teapot suddenly glowed with a faint golden light around the family crest engraved on its body.
In the corner, an old roll of sheet music trembled slightly, as though invisible fingers were plucking at its strings.
Even the scent of old wood in the air grew richer, carrying a strange sweetness, yet also a hidden trace of bitterness.
Tap.
The quill was suddenly tossed onto the counter, making a light sound and snapping Luna out of her thoughts.
She abruptly raised her head and saw the figure beneath the cloak slowly stand.
The figure was tall, the hem of the cloak dragging across the floor like a pool of flowing ink, swaying gently with each movement.
The other party turned and walked toward the shelves behind the counter.
Its movements were slow, yet they carried an undeniable dignity.
The antiques on the shelves seemed to respond to some invisible summons.
They moved aside on their own, revealing an unremarkable wooden box on the highest shelf.
The box was dark brown, its surface covered in fine, dense patterns, as though it had been carved from an entire old tree root.
It had no lock, yet it radiated an aura that warned strangers to keep away.
A hand beneath the cloak—if that could even be called a hand—stretched out as a blurred shadow from within the darkness.
With a gentle sweep, the wooden box flew through the air and landed in the figure’s grasp.
“Take it.”
The androgynous voice sounded once more, carrying a metallic chill, yet strangely soothing to the heart.
The wooden box was pushed in front of Luna.
Even across the counter, she could feel the faint vibration coming from it, as though some living thing had been sealed inside.
Luna’s fingers trembled so badly she could barely hold anything.
She carefully reached out.
The instant her fingertips touched the surface of the box, a cool sensation spread up from her fingers, as though she had grasped a piece of jade freshly taken from an ice cellar.
The feeling was peculiar.
It was cold, yet not biting.
Instead, it carried a warm, gentle strength that allowed her tense nerves to relax ever so slightly.
She took a deep breath and opened the wooden box.
Inside, the box was lined with black velvet.
Resting quietly in the center of the velvet was a wand.
It was a completely black wand, about ten inches long.
Its body was smooth, without the slightest trace of grain, yet it shimmered with a dark luster, as though it had been carved from solidified night.
Near the wand’s core, a faint dark-red glow could vaguely be seen, like an imprisoned spark, flickering in and out of existence.
It had no unnecessary decoration, yet it exuded an indescribable pressure.
Just looking at it made Luna feel as though her breath had caught in her throat.
“This is… a wand?” she murmured, her voice filled with disbelief.
She had seen her father’s wand, made of walnut wood, with a sapphire embedded at the tip.
She had seen her mother’s wand, made of hawthorn, slender and delicate.
She had also seen Jonah’s brand-new wand, with its unicorn hair core.
But never had she seen a wand like the one before her, radiating a mysterious power that seemed capable of swallowing everything.
The figure beneath the cloak did not answer.
It merely uttered two words softly:
“Try it.”
That voice seemed to carry some kind of magic.
Almost unconsciously, Luna reached out.
The instant her fingertips touched the wand, a strange current shot up her arm and coursed through her entire body.
She held her breath and carefully grasped the wand, lifting it from its velvet lining.
The wand felt slightly cool in her hand, and the curve of its body fit perfectly against her palm, as though it had been made especially for her.
The moment she fully wrapped her fingers around it—
Boom!
An indescribable power suddenly surged from the tip of the wand, rushing through her arm and flowing into every part of her body.
The power was warm, like melting snow in early spring, yet vast and surging, like a roaring river.
It carried a familiar yet unfamiliar throb as it raced wildly through her veins.
Was this… magic?
Luna’s eyes widened, and tears instantly blurred her vision.
She remembered this feeling.
When she was still a child, she had once accidentally knocked over her mother’s favorite vase.
In her panic, the vase had floated back into place by itself, and the cracks along its surface had even healed on their own.
Back then, her mother had smiled and said, “Our Luna has talent.”
But later, that feeling disappeared, as though something had brutally severed it.
Until this very moment.
As she held this pitch-black wand, that power which had slept for so long finally awakened once more.
Trembling, she raised the wand and imitated the way her father looked in her memories, softly reciting the simplest spell.
“Lumos.”
The instant her voice fell, a faint white light appeared at the tip of the wand.
The glow was very dim, even somewhat unsteady.
It could not compare to the bright halo produced by Jonah’s wand.
Yet to Luna, it was like a thunderclap exploding through her entire world.
She had done it.
She had really done it!
Her tears could no longer be controlled.
They poured down her cheeks and dripped onto the black velvet, spreading into a small, dark stain.
She stared at the swaying white light at the tip of the wand, then at her own slightly trembling hand holding it.
A muffled sob escaped her throat, like a bird that had finally broken free from its cage and seen light at the end of despair.
“It seems it has accepted you.”
The voice beneath the cloak interrupted her excitement.
Luna suddenly snapped back to her senses and saw the figure snap its fingers.
The sound was very soft, yet it carried an irresistible force.
The wand in her hand abruptly broke free from her grip and flew back into the wooden box on its own.
With a click, the lid closed, returning everything to its original state.
Luna’s heart clenched instantly, as though an invisible hand had gripped it.
She stared at the closed wooden box and anxiously took a step forward.
“It…”
“Is the guest satisfied with this item?” the figure beneath the cloak asked, holding the wooden box in its hand.
Its voice remained calm and without ripples, revealing no emotion at all.
“Satisfied!
I’m very satisfied!”
Luna hurriedly nodded, her head bobbing like a rattle drum.
Tears still filled her pale gray eyes, yet they shone with astonishing brightness.
“May I ask… how much does it cost?
No matter how many Galleons it takes, I’m willing to pay!
If I don’t have enough right now, I can serve you as a slave or a servant.
I can work.
I’m willing to do anything!”
She spoke incoherently, terrified that the other party would take back this sudden hope.
For the chance to hold magic in her hands again, let alone serving as a slave or servant, she would be willing to pay an even heavier price.
The figure beneath the cloak fell silent for a moment, seeming to examine her.
The air in the shop grew heavy once more.
The antiques on the shelves let out faint hums, as though whispering among themselves.
After quite some time, the androgynous voice sounded again, carrying a strange echo, as though it had come from somewhere very far away.
“This shop sells its goods through equivalent exchange.
We do not offer credit.”
The wooden box was gently placed on the counter with a dull thud.