By the time Gut and the others, chatting as they walked, arrived at the city's night market, the festive atmosphere had just reached its peak.
The once spacious streets were now narrowed by the tide of revelers. Yet this wasn't a bad thing. It was precisely this closeness that brought once-distant strangers into a warmth akin to friends and family—allowing them to feel each other's emotions.
In such an environment, the joy of the festival spread like ripples on water, passed from person to person. Shared delight sparked connections, weaving a collective memory of celebration.
Even Lernen, with his usual solemn demeanor, wore the faintest smile.
This was how a festival should be—full of joy for everyone.
Gut, too, wore a grin. While passing a street vendor, he pulled out some coins and bought two amusing little accessories.
He hid them behind his back and hurried to where Serie and Gumi were walking. Just as they were about to question him, he revealed the accessories and placed them atop their heads.
"Senior, what did you put on my head?" Gumi asked, not removing it, but feeling around—seemed like a headband?
"You can take a peek at Master. You two have the same one."
"Oh really..."
Following Gut's cue, Gumi looked toward Serie—and gasped.
"Wow! Master, you look so cute!"
At that moment, Serie wore a resigned expression as two pure white cat ears perched atop her head. The adorable accessory contrasted hilariously with her annoyed face.
"Hmph."
"Just a silly toy," Serie scoffed in disdain.
But right after brushing off the cat-ear accessory, Serie turned to glance at her disciple Gumi, who also wore the same—her expression froze.
She really was cute.
BOOM!
Just as Serie was dazed, a loud crack echoed through the dark sky. A dazzling firework burst overhead, and the crowd erupted in cheers.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
A cascade of fireworks bloomed, illuminating the deep night sky as bright as day. Cheers mixed with bursts of color filled the air with the festival's climax.
Gut scanned the scene: Serie, Gumi, Lernen, and the crowd of strangers—he etched the moment into memory.
Perhaps this... was the true meaning of festivals.
The original purpose of a festival might be long forgotten. Even written records would twist over centuries.
Festivals were just illusions. What was real—were the people who gathered to celebrate.
...
After the fireworks show, Serie led them to the city's liveliest plaza, where the night market's best food stalls gathered.
Gut patted Gumi's shoulder, and with a shared glance, the two smiled knowingly—and launched their full-on feast raid.
Meanwhile, Serie and Lernen wandered into stores selling magical artifacts.
Before long, the night grew late, and with the crowd thinning, the group reconvened.
Gut and Gumi had clearly eaten to their heart's content. The smoky, down-to-earth cuisine of the night market had a way of healing the soul.
And Serie and Lernen had their share of harvests too.
Gut eyed the jar cradled in Serie's arms with a puzzled look. After some hesitation, he finally asked:
"Master, that's not a magical artifact, right?"
"No, it's not," Serie replied. "But look at these markings—it has a very ancient design, predating the Unified Empire period. You could call it a relic. So I bought it."
"Hmm…"
Gut hesitated again, then continued, "Master, can I take a closer look?"
"Sure."
Serie handed over the jar, proudly noting she only spent five Strahl silver coins for it.
But as Gut examined the jar, his expression turned... odd.
He muttered, "That's not right... That's not right..."
Serie's excitement cooled as she asked, "What's not right?"
Gut returned the jar, coughed, and said:
"Master, you shouldn't have been fooled by this."
"Even if this thing were real, you're probably older than it, right? So how could you be the one misjudging?"
"?"
Serie's brow twitched. "Explain. How do you know it's a fake?"
Gut's gaze was serious. If it were any other item, he wouldn't speak so definitively—but a jar? Come on. In the abandoned monastery he once lived in, he copied four or five books on the history of human ceramics. In this field, Gut could rival an expert scholar.
He confidently explained:
"Master, the pattern on this is indeed pre-Unified Empire—that's true."
"But the issue lies in the jar's style, material, and crafting technique."
"This style mimics designs popular during the Empire's peak—but the position of the handles is wrong. And this inlay technique? It only became mainstream in the past 200 years."
"Finally, the jar's build: clear ringing when tapped and a smooth, dense base—those are results of kiln techniques only developed in recent decades."
"So this is most likely a fake."
"Master, looks like you'll have to go reflect for a bit."
"Ugh... How could this happen…"
Serie slumped. Gut's detailed breakdown left her deflated—especially his earlier remark, "Even if it were real, your age should exceed it," which landed like a direct hit.
Pffft—
Someone nearby burst into laughter.
Still wearing the cat-ear accessory, Serie's cat-like pout scanned for the culprit.
Gut? No—her first disciple just stared with intrigue. Not laughing... but his expression wasn't exactly innocent.
Gumi? Also no—she had her arms clutched, lips pressed tight, face red from holding back laughter.
That left only one.
Lernen.
Still smiling, without the slightest attempt to hide it—until Serie's gaze locked onto him. Only then did the socially unaware Lernen start to realize... maybe he wasn't supposed to laugh that loudly.
Beside him, Gut patted his shoulder.
No wonder this guy got shunned in the Imperial Capital...
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Powerstones?
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