Witch, Fireball and the Evil God of Steam-Chapter 37: "Human

Mr. Marshall ultimately couldn't make it through the fall, leaves from the trees outside the hospital room drifted to the ground with the wind, and the doctors announced his death.

In fact, when he was brought to the hospital, anyone with eyes could see he was already dead. Despite this, the hospital still mobilized all medical resources, gathering top doctors to brainstorm and exhaust all means in an attempt to snatch this lost life from the hands of the Death God.

The Imperial Reserve issued them a death order—the only hospital in Ximu Town was naturally funded by the Lofic Consortium.

Though their efforts ultimately ended in failure, it wasn't entirely fruitless.

At least Mr. Marshall's neck, twisted at a right angle, was straightened. Unfortunately, he could only lie flat on the bed, or else, without cervical bone support, his head would droop in a bizarre manner if he changed position.

Ethan was pushed outside by the medical staff and didn't even get to see Mr. Marshall one last time.

He stayed in the hospital corridor until evening, finally relaxing after the doctors announced the death information.

Employees of the Imperial Reserve passed him, gently patting his shoulder.

"My condolences."

Everyone said this to him.

In their eyes, Ethan was so overwhelmed with grief that he was unable to speak.

So young, yet he had to face his close friend's tragic death before his eyes, and he was still a Reception Bureau investigator. They could easily imagine that deep sense of powerlessness.

Indeed, Ethan's eyes were filled with sorrow.

The main reason was that he was idling in the corridor, silently studying Ice Magic, and was influenced by the elemental elf's emotions.

Mr. Anonymous mentioned in "The Magic Power of Fireball Ice Arrow" that the ice element corresponds to humanity's lowest emotions, and after today's event, he had a deeper understanding of the book's depiction of "people," gradually comprehending why the author believed ice arrows were more suited to resolving disputes between people.

Compared to the fire element, water and ice are more low-key and hidden.

The ability to write such words on parchment means Mr. Anonymous must have used Ice Magic to handle many disputes between people.

However, the ice arrow is not omnipotent; it cannot sever the countless causal chains pulled by a ledger. Ethan knew that at this moment, somewhere unknown to him, another Mr. Luoxang would be walking apprehensively into the Imperial Reserve, taking out a large sum of money amidst the staff's caring smiles.

What he could do was only eliminate some specific person in front of him.

In this world, harm doesn't come only from dark creatures and Evil God's followers. Vigilance in practice is paramount; he must catch up with Mr. Anonymous as soon as possible.

Ethan made up his mind.

Of course, in the eyes of the Imperial Reserve's staff and medical personnel, Ethan's resolute gaze represented another scene—the young Reception Bureau investigator witnessing his friend's tragic death decided to commit himself even more fervently to his work, vowing to uncover the truth of his friend's demise.

The good news was that Ethan accidentally found a more suitable place to practice ice arrows.

Under the guidance of good leader Ave, Fireplace Bay finally had a boat ready for him. Beyond the dock was the endless Black Sea, where identities were irrelevant, and naturally, no one would stop him from tossing ice arrows into the sea.

Practicing ice arrows by the Black Sea had triple benefits: accidents causing injury were less likely, he didn't have to worry about identity exposure, and he could conveniently look after the store.

Meanwhile...

He increasingly wanted to learn teleportation magic.

Every night he sneaked out of the apartment under cover of darkness, always feeling nervous and guilty. Coupled with the uncertain working hours of an investigator, if Ave came looking for him at midnight due to work and found him absent, it would spell trouble, even if he could use his part-time job at Fireplace Bay as an excuse. But that's not a long-term solution.

He only found basic introductory magic in the Mystical Bookstore, and advanced magic like teleportation involving space couldn't possibly be recorded there.

Moreover, even if someone sold such high-level magic, with his 20 gold lions of savings, it would definitely be unaffordable.

From his observation of merchants in Fireplace Bay, bargaining tactics like "I'm an apprentice, sell it cheaper" or "20 gold lions, let's be friends" would likely be unfeasible.

Ultimately, he needed to save money, and his custom service business had to start soon.

But before that...

Ethan took Miss Keroy on a trip outside the town.

It seemed like no one had visited here for some time; the earth mound was particularly barren. Holding hard bread, Miss Keroy with a wreath on her head, they walked along gravestones for a long time, finally stopping at one engraved with "Luoxang."

The tombstone simply bore three characters without any epitaph or additional information.

Ethan bent down, dusting off the dirt and grime from the tombstone, placed the hard bread on the empty altar, and Miss Keroy also lowered her head, placing the wreath there.

He stared at the tombstone for a long time.

"Goodbye, Luoxang."

...

Returning to the apartment, Ave saw Ethan looking troubled and advised him to have a good sleep. She would stay in the apartment and send the report on the Luoxang case back to the Reception Bureau in Gear City using a falcon.

Ethan couldn't help but feel grateful for having such a good leader; if it were his past life, he would have received orders like "Finish writing the case summary ASAP and send it to me by 7."

He began preparing dinner for Miss Keroy, making a pot of tomato and potato soup with some pork belly, his mood easing as he watched Miss Keroy devour it so eagerly she almost seemed to bury her head in the bowl.

He considered that now Mr. Marshall's family must also be preparing the funeral, his body would be sent back to Gear City, then surrounded by flowers and a priest's eulogy.

Despite Mr. Marshall resembling a dead fat pig, only providing 1 point of ice arrow proficiency, he still made some contribution, giving Ethan a deeper understanding of the transformation between ice and water.

Ethan filled the potato pork soup into a clay pot and knocked on the door of the apartment next door.

Ave looked exhausted, her golden hair drooping listlessly over her head, appearing deeply sleep-deprived with heavy dark circles.

"This is the meat soup I prepared; I used to cook this often for hunters at the guild. The taste should be acceptable."

"Oh, put it on the table."

Ethan felt that Ave walked as if drifting; she seemed to have just sent the case summary, as a feather pen and letter paper remained on the table.

Ave leaned back in the oak chair, the fragrance of the meat soup spreading through the room, relaxing her tense nerves. She gazed at the soup, her vision gradually blurring, food forming double images in her eyes.

Just as she was about to close her eyes, a pat from the golden hair atop her head startled her, straightening her reflexively, appearing like a student suddenly called upon by a teacher while sleeping in class.

"Choose option C."

After this irrelevant assertion, the living room plunged into an awkward silence.

Ave offered no explanation; she simply picked up the clay pot, about to bury her face in it like Miss Keroy.

"Hmm, tastes pretty good."

Moments later, she gave her verdict.

"That's good, I was worried it might not suit your taste."

Ethan said, after all, he used only the cheapest ingredients, "It's getting late, you've been busy all day, you should rest early."

"Ethan."

After only a few steps away, Ave suddenly called him.

"Hmm?"

"Not all nobles are like that."

Ave's voice weakened as she continued, almost inaudible, "At least... I'm not."