"Gacha!" He shouted.

〘Request granted: 12/100. Gacha cooldown: 55 seconds 31 milliseconds〙

『Waiting command...』

"Summon 12."

〘Request denied: Summon limit 10 per gacha...〙

"Summon 10."

〔Initiating...〕

〔Success〕

________________________________

1. ∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎『C』

2. ∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎『C』

3. ∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎『A』

4 ∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎『C』

5. ∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎『B』

6. ∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎『C』

7. ∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎『C』

8. ∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎『C』

9. ∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎『B』

10. ∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎∎"『SS』

________________________________

⟨⟨Guarantee『S』or above: 10/80⟩⟩

Random cards appeared with its own unique glow in front of him, fabricating its definition that was about to be shown. A power that came straight out from a Gacha pull. What could this power mean?

.

.

.

[Somewhere in the bookshop.]

"You said the book was going to be delivered this Tuesday." The old man went back to the bookshop to ask when his book would be delivered. "I never said today, I said this Thursday. Do you want me to consult you to get your ears checked, old man?"

"Huh?" The old man cupped his ears, trying to hear him.

"Nevermind," he muttered, facepalming. He took back what he said.

The multitude of abnormalities never ceased to amaze him in this bookshop. He had worked here for three years, lucky enough to get a decent wage. If facing an old man with hearing problems was troubling enough, you should see how he faced an idiot with attitude problems.

This old-fashioned bookshop was owned by his boss, Balerd. Surprisingly, he was in his seventies and still thriving with life. For an old man, he was also very responsible. Applying for a job here was a lucky shot, after numerous rejections he was grateful enough to work in this bookshop and became his assistant. The wage was fine and the job security was decent.

The bookshop was divided into four aisles, each a of its own subject. One housed the fiction over countless stories and genres. The other was the non-fiction, where history, science, and philosophy pondered.

Despite its age, the bookshop remained fresh. So was the air after the deaf old man left. The air was thick with the scent of aged paper and leather bindings, a comforting aroma that bookloves loved.

Managing the books weren't all that difficult, being born with mana made it pretty handy. With just a swoop of his hand all the books were corrected in the right isle.

The amount of work was minimum, but engaging with the customers were a different story. Many people might know customer service required strong mentality, especially dealing with someone "unique".

"Oh, it's time." He looked at the time and went outside to see that the books were already arrived at the front door, heaps of them coming from the publishers.

"Working hard as ever, Lucas?" The weak-kneed old man in front of him was his boss, Balerd. He took him in, acting like he was his grandson. He never was mad at him, he respected him a lot like his own grandfather.

Oh yeah, he hadn't introduced himself yet, had he? His name was Lucas Oztyre. He had blonde hair, a skinny appearance, and an average figure of 5'8. A vigorous young boy he was, sadly not until he turned 18, now working in the bookshop at 21. He was your everyday average guy.

Lucas sighed, a familiar weariness settling over him. Another day, another batch of eccentric customers. He began unloading the books, muttering curses under his breath. The weight of the boxes was nothing compared to the weight of dealing with certain individuals.

A bell chimed, signaling a new customer. He glanced up to see a young woman with a nose ring and a leather jacket, the epitome of modern youth. She sauntered over to the fiction section, her fingers tracing the spines of books.

"Excuse me," she called out, her voice sharp. "Do you have any books on... you know, like, dark fantasy with strong female leads and lots of angst?"

He raised an eyebrow, suppressing a smirk. "Sure," he replied, guiding her to the appropriate section. "We have a wide selection of dark fantasy, and many of our authors feature strong female protagonists."

As he helped her, he couldn't help but think about the stark contrast between the old-fashioned charm of the bookshop and the modern tastes of its customers. It was a delicate balance, catering to both the traditional and the trendy.

Then another came in, a middle-aged man approached the counter, a look of desperation in his eyes. "I need a book," he said, his voice trembling. "A book that can help me understand my teenage son."

He listened patiently as the man explained his concerns. It was clear that he was at his wit's end. He recommended a few books on parenting and adolescent psychology, offering words of comfort and understanding.

As the man left, he couldn't shake the feeling that he had made a difference, however small. It was moments like these that made the job worthwhile.

Day after day, work had never been different.

He decided to go out to help the poor Balerd in need of medicine. Walking through the crammed crowds, it was quite suffocating but he endured worse. The minute he entered the pharmacy, things gladly took fast enough for him to have his sweet free time. The second the pharmacist gave him the medicine, he left in a flash.

In the busy city of Encentia, people here were common to fly with their broomsticks or a carpet, at least any object to fly. Now with air patrollers restricting the folks to take flight for a moment, the sky were now less with people flying after there were too many people flying, causing unnecessary crashes.

Almost reaching the bookshop, Lucas was jostled by a passerby who unwittingly dislodged an envelope from his pocket. Seizing the fallen item, Lucas called out to the man, "H-Hey, you dropped your..." But the man had already vanished, leaving only the envelope in Lucas's hand.

Puzzled by the sudden disappearance, Lucas pocketed the envelope and continued to the bookshop to deliver the medicine.

"What took you so long, Lucas?" Bareld was flipping through pages of his favourite book, "The Whiskers of Unseen".

"Nothing really worth telling. How're you feeling?" Lucas asked, concerning Bareld's health.

"Tough, but this old man still has it. The spirit to live!" Bareld let out a gentle frail smile, making even more concerns for poor Lucas.

"*Sighs* Someone at your age should already know when to act young and old. Get some rest, gramps. I'm closing the shop early." Lucas said, grabbing the keys. Bareld, understanding the need for respite, agreed.

Before leaving, Lucas secured the mysterious envelope in his bag. Then, with a magical carpet, he soared through the night sky towards his home.