Ian picked up the plainly designed black notebook and examined it every which way.
The cover material looked similar to leather.
A slightly rough yet moderately soft texture.
There was no title written on it, and the finish of the corners and other edges was fairly excellent. Its condition was too good to be called an old item.
"That's because it was maintained obsessively, meow. The inside is clean too, so check it out, meow."
Ian didn't bother to refuse Pleas's suggestion.
Rustle.
Carefully turning the cover, he looked at the white paper.
It looked little different from drawing paper. However, when touched, the texture felt very different from ordinary paper.
A rough and coarse texture.
Its outward appearance was almost like wood-based paper, but the difference in texture was quite severe. It seemed like it would be difficult to write anything with a thin pencil or a mechanical pencil.
'It's parchment.'
Ian figured out the material of the pages without much difficulty. All the characteristics pointed to parchment; it would have been stupider not to know.
Parchment is made from sheepskin. The production method is quite complex, and unless an expert makes it, it is difficult to use properly.
It had quite a long history, so there used to be many experts, but that was also a story of the past. After paper was invented, parchment was effectively discontinued.
Still, among mages, parchment held higher value than paper. The process of slaughtering livestock, skinning the hide, and tanning it for a long time was similar to a shamanistic act in itself, so writing magic on parchment was far more efficient than writing it on paper. It wasn't for nothing that modern mages still used parchment as a recording medium.
'I heard some young mages record magic circles using computer function graphs... but it doesn't yield efficiency anyway, and due to the nature of magic circles, digital records disappear quickly, so it's not worth considering.'
Hm, enough idle thoughts.
Ian closed the notebook in his hand, turned to Pleas, and opened his mouth.
"Would it be possible to know the name of the mage who originally possessed this?"
"Well, as far as I know, it was definitely 'Johann Georg Faust,' meow. You must have heard of Faust, meow."
"Isn't that the figure from Goethe's tale? There was a real person who served as the motif?"
"There was, meow. Was it the 15th century? He was a madman who claimed he personally went to hell and came back, meow. But the interesting thing is, this bastard actually set foot in hell, meow."
Pleas giggled while sitting in a loaf position. Perhaps because she had spent so long in a cat's body, it seemed even her brain had turned cat-like.
"Faust was an oddball and a fool who lied constantly, but his magic skills alone were first-rate, meow. Even the Clock Tower tried to recruit him, meow. Well, he refused."
"Why?"
"Why, you ask? Because Faust was a top-tier fool among fools, meow. That old geezer had no interest in success and only liked traveling the world and black magic, meow. He wandered the world like that, and in the end, got torn limb from limb by the demon he had contracted with and died, meow."
"A typical end for a human who contracted with a demon."
"Without the Lemegeton or the Key of Solomon, it's only natural, meow. Even an archmage is no exception, meow."
Leaving her as she stretched out in a yawn, Ian tapped the notebook's cover with a finger.
"The materials used to make this notebook? Do you know?"
"Um... according to my Master, the cover was made using lesser demon leather, and the pages inside were made by killing hell's sheep directly, meow."
"So it's not an earthly item?"
"That's why the performance is very good, meow. The reason the parchment looks so much like paper is also because they used hell's sheep instead of real sheep, meow."
"So it has a characteristic of adapting to the times, it seems."
"Exactly, meow."
Ian nodded and thrust the notebook in his hand toward her.
"I'll buy it. How much?"
"Meow... at full price it would probably be about 500 million, but since I'm in a good mood today, I'll round it down to 400 million, meow."
"That's very expensive..."
"Is that the reaction I get after giving a discount? Should I just charge the full price?"
Pleas hissed. Ian chuckled and paid immediately.
400 million.
It was not a cheap amount. A rather expensive price even for an artifact. However, it was likely to be worth that much. Just by using it as a device to record and as a mnemonic for magics not of the Outer Gods written in the grimoire, he could easily get his money's worth.
At worst, it could be used as a preparatory item for ritual magic. Since it was said that recorded magics never disappeared, testing the instantaneous casting of ritual magic through pre-recorded magic circles wouldn't be a bad idea either.
"Thanks for the refreshing payment, meow. Now that notebook is yours, meow!"
Ding.
She swiped the card through the reader with her small hand and shouted with a bright smile. Ian took the card back and burst into laughter.
"Big brother? Aren't I the younger one here?"
"You wanna die, meow?"
Pleas extended her claws. At the rather sharply filed claws, Ian took a step back.
"I'll buy a few high-purity magic reagents as well. One kerosene lantern, one well-sharpened dagger, and prepare two carcasses of blood-fed rabbits, skinned. One female and one male."
"That's quite hardcore, meow. I'll prepare them right away so wait, meow. Ah, do you have enough money, meow?"
"Don't worry about that. If push comes to shove, I'll just pay in installments."
"Meow-meow-meow-meow. We don't do installments, meow. Beat it, meow."
Pleas wiggled her hips and moved toward the general store's warehouse.
A short while later, she returned carrying a box filled with various items in her mouth.
Ian carefully examined the quality of the reagents one by one, confirmed they were all fine, and paid without hesitation. Money disappeared from his account in an instant, but money could always be earned again, so it wasn't a big problem.
"Hehehe. Thanks for the payment, meow! Will you take these with you directly? Or by courier?"
"Send them by courier. The address is... um."
Ian had been about to give his address without much thought, but then recalled the Hunt festival Eric had mentioned and stopped.
He didn't think Pleas was a crazy bitch who would show up out of the blue and declare 'I'll kill you' just because he gave his address. But there was always a 'what if,' wasn't there? It was right to avoid unnecessarily stirring up trouble.
So he withdrew his words and took the box directly.
"I'll just take them myself. Can you put them in my bag?"
"You mean the bag you're carrying now, meow? Hmm... I don't know if it'll all fit, but I'll try, meow. Give it here, meow."
So he did. Pleas didn't bother to check the items already in Ian's bag and stuffed the materials from the box inside, cramming them in every which way. Thanks to that, it became quite a mess, but everything did fit.
"Whew-meow... I somehow got it all in, meow... but it's a bit heavy, are you okay, meow?"
"I'm fine. I came on a bike."
"A bike?! Meow... that's a very unsuitable vehicle, meow... you look like you'd drive a sleek sedan..."
"Unfortunately, I don't have a car."
Ian smirked and slung the bag over his back. The heavy weight pressed down on his shoulder. After adjusting the strap length, he looked down at Pleas and opened his mouth.
"Then I'll be going now. If I need anything else next time, I'll come by."
"Don't come during the Hunt period, meow. We won't be open then, meow."
Ian nodded and left the general store without lingering. Then he briefly considered visiting the dressroom—the one Dolores had stopped by—but gave up on the thought.
Unfortunately, he had spent too much money today. Even if he visited with his remaining balance, it would be hard to buy a proper item.
The price of clothes woven through magic was whatever the seller asked; a few hundred million wasn't even close to enough. He'd need to have at least over a billion to make a visit worthwhile.
'I'll have to come when I get the chance next time.'
He plunged his hand into his coat pocket and left the Owl.
Thud, thud.
Returning to the bookstore via the stairs, he found Eric and Amelia sitting at the counter. Eric only glanced at him before focusing on his reading again, but Amelia held up the teddy bear she had found toward him. She didn't approach Ian because she was watching Eric's mood.
Ian smiled softly and stroked Amelia's head. At that moment, Amelia handed him a small note.
[Read this next time. If we meet then, I'll teach you magic!]
It was a note full of clumsy handwriting and typos. Ian laughed softly and put the note in his pocket. Seeing him put away the paper, Amelia smiled brightly.
"I'm going. Take care from tomorrow."
Ian said to Eric. Eric waved his hand roughly.
"Coming from you, it sounds like a murder warning. As long as you're not here, this place is safe, so don't worry."
"Then that's a relief."
Ian roughly ruffled Amelia's hair, then left the bookstore without looking back.
Perhaps because quite some time had passed, the sky was gloomy, unlike before. The sun was hidden behind clouds, and dark clouds pregnant with rain and lightning drifted heavily through the sky as if about to pour down any moment.
"..."
Ian looked up at the sky for a moment, then got on his parked bike and returned home.
The moment he arrived home, rain began to fall little by little. The drizzle thickened in an instant into a downpour, drenching the earth and air.
"I almost came back in the rain if I had been just a bit late..."
Ian took off his helmet, which had a few water droplets splashed on it, and entered the living room. Then he organized the items he had brought.
He lined up the reagents on the desk by category and set aside separately the materials for items that could only be made in the workshop. He spent a total of 30 minutes on this task.
"Phew, it's done. Then now..."
After finishing organizing, Ian took out Faust's notebook and sat down at the desk.
Without hesitation, he took out the grimoire and a quill pen.
Recording itself would probably be possible with an ordinary ballpoint pen, but due to the nature of parchment, it would inevitably come out somewhat faint. So Ian dipped the quill generously in ink and began recording the magics written in the grimoire.
'For now, during the Hunt period, let's focus only on recording in this notebook.'
The magics he wanted to record were all ordinary ones.
For example, 'magic to easily learn foreign languages,' 'magic to find lost items,' 'magic to erase stains on clothes,' and so on. He recorded mainly magics unrelated to the Outer Gods. Among them were also Catholic-type defensive magics, attack magics that varied by day of the week, and utility magics.
They were common magics rarely found even inside the grimoire dominated by Outer God magics, so finding and using them one by one was very difficult. When would he flip through the grimoire, find the magic, and then use it?
Rather than that, it was better to record them in advance, implant them in his memory, and be able to use them without the grimoire.
He had purchased the notebook for this purpose from the very beginning. Ian put on his glasses, dipped the quill in ink, and focused on inscribing magic circles, magic effects, precautions, and so on into the notebook.
[......Hum.]
At that moment, while Ian briefly averted his eyes, the notebook emitted a short vibration.
It was the typical first reaction that appeared when creating a grimoire.