Shabby Shop

The interior of the shabby shop was a stark contrast to the bustling, well-lit streets of the Tatum Kingdom's city. Dim lighting, partly from flickering candles and small, dirty windows, barely illuminated the space. 

The air was thick with the musty smell of old books and the earthy scent of ancient scrolls. The shop was a disorganized labyrinth of shelves and dusty tomes, and the shelves were heavily laden with books, scrolls, and mysterious artifacts.

The shop's furniture was as shabby as its exterior, with rickety wooden tables and chairs that seemed on the verge of collapsing. The once-vibrant colors of the upholstery had faded into a dull, worn hue. 

Piles of dusty old books and parchment were scattered haphazardly across every available surface, creating an atmosphere of chaos and neglect.

Cobwebs hung in the corners, and the creaky floorboards complained with each step. 

It was evident that this place had seen better days and had been largely forgotten by the world outside. The only source of light came from the dimly glowing crystals embedded in the walls, casting an eerie, ethereal glow on the ancient knowledge and curiosities it held.

And if one actually paid attention to these details, Lawrence had to commend that for being such a no-life person.

"A shabby shop is a shabby shop." Lawrence mused, glancing at the interior, not for the furniture, but for a person. 

"Old Fool, I know you're here, so show your ass before I– never mind. This garbage shop can't get any worse."

Who was he kidding?

Threaten to thrash this shabby shop further? 

Was there even a need to do such a thing when it was already in such a pathetic state? 

Suddenly, Lawrence's mouth curled upward as he grinned somewhat sinisterly. Maybe all of the interior was in terrible condition, but there was one specific area that was always neatly clean.

The booze shelf.

These old fools are always high and drunk in their booze.

"Not showing up huh. Then don't mind me taking some of the interest." Lawrence circulated his mana core to generate particles. 

As Lawrence's mana core emitted its soft, ethereal glow, he glanced at the booze shelf. 

The rest of the shop may have been a haphazard jumble of disorganized knowledge and musty times, but the shelf of spirits was immaculately clean. 

Rows of gleaming bottles, some so old their labels were barely legible, stood in perfect order.

Grinning wickedly, Lawrence shot his mana particle at one of the bottles. 

"How dare you!" 

A voice suddenly resounded from somewhere and Lawrence sensed a strong magic particle emitting. 

The magic particle seemed to be intercepting his very own magic particle, except it missed and Lawrence suddenly shattered one of the bottles on the shelf.

As the bottle of glass shattered and fell to the floor, creating an eerie sound, Lawrence's ears were nearly violated when he heard a tearful scream. 

"Noooooooo! Not my boooooze!" 

Having heard the tearful scream, Lawrence immediately halted his mana particle attack, his eyes narrowing as he looked around the shabby shop. 

It was at this moment that the mysterious owner of the shop chose to reveal themselves.

From the shadows emerged an elderly figure, their face hidden beneath the hood of a tattered, dark cloak. The cloak was adorned with symbols and sigils that seemed to pulse with an eerie, otherworldly light.

Alas, the elderly figure ignored Lawrence's presence completely as he went near the booze shelf, dropping his knees to the floor. 

"Why did you destroy my booze? Did my booze offend you? Did my booze steal your wife? Did my booze ever ruin you?" The elderly figure's entire body trembled in shock, questioning Lawrence's action.

"My bad, Old Fool." Lawrence placed his hands on his hip and said softly. 

"I didn't know you were that trash to not even be able to deflect my magic particle. I didn't even use 2 percent of my power and was merely trying to make you reveal yourself." He added, admitting that he had underestimated the elderly figure.

"Destroy my booze, and now even degrade me? How could you?" The elderly figure said pitifully, tears seemed to be seeping out of his eyes. 

He was astounded by the audacity of the young man's action. 

"Hey, it's not my fault that you are drunk as hell and stopped your training. If you were still in your prime time, then the magic particle of mine would have dissipated before it could even get near the booze shelf." Lawrence defended himself, not planning to admit it was his fault. 

He made sure to calculate everything, but it seemed like he was wrong about one thing. 

The current Old Fool in front of him had not yet regained his courage and motivation. Thus, he was unable to block his insignificant magic particle. 

Remember, the keyword was insignificant!

The magic particle he sent out was truly insignificant, so the fault lies in the Old Fool for being so unreasonably incompetent. 

"My booze!!!" 

The elderly figure ignored Lawrence and bawled out. The precious booze that he didn't even dare to drink because of its scarcity, was now completely ruined. 

"I only dare to take a sip of this every week. Of all the boozes here, why must you destroy my most precious one." The elderly figure continued to bawl as if he were a little kid who just got his favorite toy smashed into pieces.

Lawrence facepalmed when he witnessed such a disgraceful scene.

Precious booze my ass!

That was low-grade rank 2 booze at best. Go to any high-quality bar and you could easily get booze way better than that.

What a fucking drama queen this man was acting!

Booze had a total of 5 ranks, with each rank separated by low, mid, and high grade. With that simple information, the low-grade rank 2 booze could only be considered below-average booze. 

It can't even be counted as precious! 

And don't anyone dare to say that maybe the booze was truly the best quality one he had! 

Because next to the supposed "precious booze" was a high-grade rank 2 booze. 

If you got deceived, then slap yourself ten times in the face for being so naive and falling for such a childish trick. 

'Fucking hell, you might as well become a theater professor!' Lawrence cursed silently, wanting to smack the Old Fool and his overdramatic act.