The adventurer at the bottom is fantasizing again.

The next morning, Lorraine was awakened by the little dwarf's pig-like snoring.

He lay on the bed for a while, feeling utterly hopeless, and when he realized he couldn't fall asleep again, he reluctantly turned over and got up.

The sun outside the window had not yet fully risen; only a faint, hazy glow could be seen floating on the city wall.

The tavern was nearly empty in the early morning, with only a few merchants on their way gathered together, listlessly eating their breakfast.

The old bartender, Gustave, had gotten up even earlier than him and was meticulously wiping up the mess left by the guests after they had been drinking. As he saw him coming down the stairs, Gustave greeted him.

"Good morning."

Good morning, breakfast is served, thank you.

Lorraine yawned and casually found a seat that wasn't too dirty to sit down.

"Hold on."

The old man nodded gratefully to him, went back to the kitchen, brought out breakfast, placed it on Lorraine's table, and said, "Please enjoy."

Black bread, fried eggs, cheese, and a bowl of hot, thick soup.

Lorraine quickly finished her breakfast, still thinking about her plans for the day.

Eileen reluctantly allowed him to go to learn spellcasting in the morning.

After completing his studies, he planned to go to the Adventurers' Guild to get the rank he longed for, and then see what kind of work he could do there.

A message came from the temple yesterday evening, saying that Anya had many church matters to attend to recently and there was nothing they could help with at the moment.

Now that he was about to become a "formal" warrior, in addition to learning spellcasting, finding new combat skills also needed to be put on the agenda.

Lorraine plans to go to the market area again when he has time to see if there are any combat skill manuals, or to post a bounty on the Adventurers' Guild to find a teacher.

Frost Valley wasn't a small place like Shallow Beach Town; he believed that warriors, the most numerous professions, would be easy to find.

Unfortunately, the seemingly fierce Ryan couldn't talk much with people he didn't know well, so he couldn't provide guidance.

Thinking about it this way, there are still many things to do, each of which will probably cost a lot of money, not to mention accommodation later...

He rubbed his temples, feeling that his savings of less than fifty gold coins were just a drop in the ocean.

After finishing breakfast, Lorraine ordered an extra portion, then carried the tray upstairs to Eileen's room.

It should be morning now... he thought.

He looked at the rising sun outside the window, hesitated for a second, and then freed one hand to knock on the door.

"Knock knock knock—"

No response.

"Is he still not awake?" Lorraine thought, forcing herself to knock twice more.

"Um......"

A muffled murmur came from inside, followed by rustling sounds: the blanket was pulled back, bare feet stepped on the floor, a staff accidentally knocked something over...

"squeak--"

Eileen opened the door sleepily, still rubbing her eyes with one hand.

She was wearing a loose-fitting white cashmere robe, the neckline of which was open, revealing a section of her collarbone and fair shoulders.

"I told you to come this morning, and you're here this early?"

Her eyebrows furrowed slightly, and she glanced at the tray in his hands with half-open eyes, muttering:

"...Come in."

Lorraine followed her in with the tray, placed the breakfast on the table, and glanced at the room's furnishings.

This room was similar to his, except that there were several unfolded parchments and a thick book on the table.

The pages of the large, open book were covered with numerous ink markings, giving it a distinctly scholarly feel.

Eileen yawned as she walked to the window and reached out to pull back the curtains.

The morning sunlight rushed in, enveloping her entirely in its light.

Her long red hair seemed to be burning in the sunlight, with every strand clearly visible.

She squinted slightly, as if adjusting to the intensity of the light, then reached out and picked up a hairpin from the table, biting it in her mouth. She then gathered her loose hair behind her head with both hands and neatly pinned it up.

After quickly tidying herself up, Eileen seemed much more awake.

She turned and walked to the table, picked up a piece of dark bread, took a bite, then frowned, chewed it a couple of times, and swallowed it with the thick soup.

"Sit down, what are you looking at me for?" She pointed to the chair.

Lorraine withdrew her gaze from her face and sat down.

Eileen sat down opposite him, tossed the thick, annotated book in front of him, pointed to the words on the cover, and asked, "Can you understand it?"

"Malcolm's Beginner's Guide to Spellcasting? I just don't understand spellcasting, not that I'm illiterate," he said irritably.

"For a spellcaster, what's the difference between not knowing how to cast spells and being illiterate?"

Eileen made a flippant remark, then continued:

Do you know what magic is?

Lorraine had originally intended to discuss his understanding of magic, but when he looked down, he saw the densely packed annotations on the pages of that massive book, so he honestly shook his head.

"Some simple tricks can be performed using the mana stored in the person, but most formal spells require a huge amount of mana."

Even the simplest first-level spell is rarely cast by someone using their own magic power, so people need to rely on something else.

Eileen's slender fingers lightly brushed across the air, as if touching something invisible to the naked eye. She said:

"There is a magical web in this world that is invisible and intangible, but it truly exists."

Those who can perceive this net possess the talent to become a mage and can use it to cast spells.

Its name is—Magic Net.

"Of course, with so many people in this world, there will always be some lucky ones."

They are born with the ability to cast spells, perhaps from their bloodline, or perhaps they simply regard weaving magical nets as an... instinct, just as a newborn baby can cry.

They were collectively known as sorcerers.

However, most warlocks are bloodline warlocks like the former, relying on their bloodline to cast spells, while those with the innate talent to manipulate magic networks are extremely rare.

The lucky person pursed their lips guiltily, hesitated for a few seconds, and said, "What if I can't feel this magic net?"

"Either you are one in a million with exceptional talent as a sorcerer, and manipulating the magic network is too easy for you, which is why you don't feel anything."

Eileen glanced at him, then remembered what the short, fat man had said yesterday:

"But that's obviously impossible, because in that situation you would quickly stand out from the crowd and wouldn't end up as a porter."

"What about the other situation?" Lorraine asked humbly.

"Because your bloodline is too sparse, it might give you a few minor tricks, but not enough to change your appearance."

Could it be that the original owner really had some kind of bloodline? But in his previous memories, there was absolutely no trace of him being related to sorcerers... Lorraine thought with a headache.

"Don't worry, bloodline warlocks can also manipulate the magic network, and it's easier for them than for ordinary mages. Try closing your eyes and sensing your surroundings."

Eileen said indifferently.

She did not show any envy or jealousy.

Having grown up in the capital, Eileen had long since seen countless geniuses of all kinds.

Lorraine's talent, which would make most mage apprentices envious, simply means that he can spend fewer years experiencing and understanding the magic network, or that he was born with a few minor spells.

And she accomplished all of this in just one month.