Anyone with experience knows that life on the run is tough.

The money is secondary. The main problem is having to sneak around everywhere, making it impossible to do anything conveniently.

He was now a walking 500,000-dollar bounty. In this day and age, that kind of money could buy a luxury villa. What concerned citizen could possibly resist that temptation?

A Witch Potion could solve this problem. He wouldn’t have to change his gender; just altering his build and appearance would be enough. The only issue was that a Witch Potion was an Advanced Alchemy Potion, which wasn’t cheap. Using it long-term would cost a fortune.

It was a vicious cycle.

The Florist Family was truly furious this time. They were dialing up the pressure.

The Witch Hunt Operation, combined with a B-Class Wanted Order, would systematically shrink his world, forcing him to reveal his location.

Sean had previously thought the buzz from his book signing would help him sell more copies, maybe even earn a nice cut. But it turned out he couldn’t afford to have any illusions about his enemies. The capitalists were far more ruthless than he had ever imagined.

He was only half right.

During the three days Sean was unconscious, his book did indeed sell like hotcakes. Many bookstores even ran out of stock. It was a classic case of demand outstripping supply. The publisher was working day and night, running the presses overtime, because the wanted order served not only its intended purpose but also as a brilliant marketing gimmick—

What could possibly drive a writer, who was clearly talented enough to make a living off his looks alone, to become a terrorist and walk the path of no return, forsaking his faith and embracing a life of crime?

The answer, perhaps, lay within his book.

Some said his book was pure wish fulfillment. The protagonist gets everything he wants, which they claimed proved the author had nothing in real life. It was the final fantasy of a shut-in writer before he snapped, a desperate hope for a society that bent to his will. The signs of his extremist personality were there all along.

Others argued he had depicted a beautiful utopia where everyone strived for their ideals and knowledge was Power. This, they claimed, showed the author must be highly educated, hoping to change his fate with knowledge. Alas, reality proved to be the opposite. Through this "utopianist" creative style, the author imbued his work with profound meaning, cleverly satirizing the stupidity and injustice of modern society. This very same disillusionment, they said, pushed him further down the anti-social path until he finally committed his heinous act.

Sean: ...

’Honestly, I didn’t even know my own story was that deep.’

’I bet if the Florist Family ever actually catches and kills me,’ he mused, ’they’ll announce my death, forge a "suicide note" full of repentance, and use the hype to sell another wave of my books.’

In short, money was definitely being made, but none of it had anything to do with Sean himself.

Quill’s death hadn’t stopped his enemies from exploiting him; in fact, it only made them more brazen.

They wanted to kill him, use him as bait to lure out other Wizards, and make money off him all at the same time.

If he could tolerate this, he wouldn’t be Sean.

He’d tolerate it for a little while, at most.

Just long enough to come up with a meticulous plan.

"I want to go for a walk," Sean said.

He liked to think while he walked. He felt, perhaps for psychological reasons, that the rhythm of his steps helped his mind work faster, freeing it from the confines of his immediate predicament.

Elise teased, "Are you sure you’re up for it?"

She was clearly asking a question to which she already knew the answer.

Both she and Elvire had seen Sean’s medical report. Other than "cellular fatigue"—a Wizard-specific term equivalent to "overexertion" in modern vocabulary—there was absolutely nothing wrong with him.

It was truly unbelievable. Judging by the sheer Magic Power that had erupted from Sean that night, he must have used some kind of Secret Spell that drained his physical reserves. He should have been down a kidney, at the very least. And yet, Sean was acting as if nothing had happened after just one night of rest. In fact, his body had already recovered by the next morning, before he even woke up.

Clearly, there was far more to this man than they had initially thought.

This guy was definitely hiding something.

Elvire and Elise both stared at Sean, seemingly waiting for an explanation.

They wouldn’t ask, but if Sean were to offer one, they were certainly eager to hear it.

Sean pretended not to understand the subtext in Elise’s words and retorted, "Whether I’m up for it or not... why don’t we find out?"

Elise’s eyes curved into crescents. "Is that so? Then I’ll have to find a chance to test that theory."

They were all adults, after all. She didn’t mind a bit of playful banter with the mysterious, handsome author.

Elvire, however, just shot him an annoyed glare. "If you fall, don’t expect anyone to help you up."

In truth, her curiosity about Sean ran even deeper than Elise’s. It wasn’t just his completely unscientific constitution, but also the Magic he had used at the hospital that night. The characters he’d formed gave her a strong sense of familiarity, as if she’d seen them a long, long time ago, but she couldn’t quite place where.

But that was fine.

Just because she couldn’t remember today didn’t mean she wouldn’t remember tomorrow.

For a Reshaper like her, past memories would slowly return over time.

Besides, she wasn’t an idiot. If even Elise could see it, how could she, the person at the center of it all, not have noticed?

Elvire didn’t believe that a mere "friend" she’d only met a few times was worth Sean risking his life for. This guy... he most likely wanted to be more than just friends.

Naturally, her standards would rise accordingly. She wasn’t fond of dishonest men.

「A few minutes later.」

Sean pulled out his IV needle and, accompanied by Elvire, stepped outside the hospital.

Elise had taken a call and left, saying she had something to take care of. Whether that was true or not was anyone’s guess.

Elvire didn’t try to stop her this time. Doing it once was one thing, but a second time would have seemed deliberate, as if she were afraid of being alone with Sean. Their relationship was completely innocent; there was nothing to be afraid of.

The two of them strolled across the lawn.

The scene before him was completely different from what he had imagined.

This was a vast farm. The air was crisp, mingled with the clean scent of earth.

The hospital room had looked quite upscale, so Sean had assumed he was in a major city. Instead, he found himself on the outskirts of a small country town. The hospital was a converted residential house.

The farm itself had been preserved. Someone was grazing sheep on the grass, while another person sat on a small stool, painting. The scene exuded a sense of peace and leisure, yet it didn’t feel lifeless. In the other direction lay the town, and a turn of the head revealed the silhouettes of simple, tightly packed buildings.

A young boy was pedaling his bicycle out of town with a satchel slung over his shoulder, rolled-up newspapers peeking out from inside. He grinned as he delivered the day’s morning papers to everyone.

In reality, it was already close to evening. But because the town was so remote—the nearest city being several hundred kilometers away—it took a long time to get newspapers. As a result, everyone treated the outside world’s morning edition as their evening paper.

"Good afternoon, Flame Crow."

"And good afternoon to you too, sir... you look kinda familiar."

The boy greeted them as he passed the hospital, his big eyes blinking as he seemed to search his memory for Sean’s name.

Sean smiled. "Hello. I’m Sean."

"Oh, Mr. Sean, I know you!" The boy’s face lit up with realization, and he cheered, "You’re the newest Wanted Criminal in Siracle State! Awesome!"

Sean’s smile froze. "..."

’I’d rather you didn’t know me.’

Elvire wanted to laugh, but seeing Sean’s crestfallen expression, she suppressed it. She gestured for the boy to continue his paper route, then comforted Sean, "Don’t worry about it. There are a lot of people like you here."

"Are they all Wizards?" Sean asked.

"Yes." Elvire didn’t hide it from him. "This is Alola Town, a physical stronghold for the Dawn Council."

...