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Jinseong didn’t possess mana, but he certainly understood how to handle energy.

Energy itself was both a material for magic and the result of magic’s craft.

To wizards, the power they used, which merged science and sorcery, was merely a tool for magic; the energy that martial artists accumulated in their bodies was a natural material for magic flowing all around, while mana was simply a type of energy suitable for magic.

However, regrettably, Jinseong couldn’t utilize this energy as effectively as other capable persons.

To use energy efficiently and in large quantities, it needed to be stored within the body, but that was impossible for Jinseong.

To contain energy, a vessel was required.

But to become a master of magic meant twisting those vessels out of shape.

When the vessels are distorted and broken, it was impossible for energy to be contained within them.

Even if one tried to contain magical power, if the insides were crushed and rotten, the contained power would also become deformed and spill out; even if one attempted to stock Qi, if the Dantian area became decayed or burnt, the contained energy would scatter like a dream.

Even if one tried to harbor life force under the skin, if the skin peeled away and the muscles twisted, that life force would escape; even if someone accrued affinity to control summon creatures, if the body changed and the soul and spirit became reversed, the bonds forged and affinity established would scatter like bubbles.

That was the essence of magic.

You could do a great deal, but you couldn’t possess a great deal.

Neither mana.

Nor prayers.

Nor magical power.

Nor the summon creature that would accompany you for a lifetime.

Nor the focus of transcendent beings that grant unwavering affection to humans.

None could be possessed.

Thus, Jinseong too was unable to hold energy within his body.

He could only move that energy with a mind close to madness.

Like those who reached the high peaks of consciousness and ignited the Samādhi True Fire.

However, abilities borne from the mind were useful yet lacking.

The flames of Samādhi True Fire were smaller and weaker than the flames conjured by fire sorcerers, just as energy manipulated by the mind was an entirely different realm of weakness compared to the energy that other capable persons had processed and compressed.

Even if Jinseong could control energy with his will and mental strength, it could not compare to processed and condensed energy.

While it may seem incredible to wield such skills, its utility, efficiency, power, and scale could never match that.

It was clear which was more remarkable between someone shooting lightning from their hand and someone manipulating static electricity within a crystal orb to create shapes.

Yet, although his skills weren’t extraordinary, they still had their worth.

He couldn’t contain vast amounts of water like a dam, nor pour it down like a rain cloud, but he could dig the earth, creating channels for water to flow.

Jinseong pulled mana from the wooden sword to carve a path, guiding it to reach a destination where it could settle. The mana glowed with a blue light, slithering like a serpent through the air, eventually reaching the gold hidden throughout his bed and beginning to settle within it.

Gold filled with mana.

A splendid material for magic and a finely crafted object was completed.

“Excellent.”

The gold, imbued with mana, radiated brilliantly.

In Jinseong’s hand, the previously dull gold now dazzled with an enchanting glow, captivating hearts and drawing gazes, stirring desires; it transformed into something even more beautiful, glimmering as though adorned with makeup.

That light was enough to stir emotions within people.

The pale, hazy moonlight that flowed through the window shattered upon touching the gold, becoming quivering desires, while the starlight raining down from the sky danced across the gold’s surface, showcasing the fleeting beauty of stars emitting their final light; even the ordinary streetlight seemed to swim upon the gold’s surface as if it mistakenly remained behind when day turned to night.

The shimmering light turned yellow, while the breaking light turned white.

Much like waves crashing and then breaking apart, the light perpetually surged and vanished like an illusion. It was light that melted into the void at a mere gesture, and if you gazed too long, it sparkled so brilliantly that you couldn’t help but be drawn closer.

“You’ve absorbed mana beautifully.”

This was because the gold had become a remarkable magical object by absorbing mana.

The already splendid gold, having encountered fierce mana, gained the strength of a predator, and with the nature of the alluring metal that seduces and captivates hearts, it had transformed into something utterly irresistible.

Gold’s element symbol, Au, derives from the Latin ‘Aurum,’ meaning ‘shining dawn,’ as if it had absorbed the very light of dawn itself.

Jinseong nodded, satisfied, gazing at the golden radiance that seemed to entice even himself, flicking his fingers to slide the gold back under the bed. Then, as if it was finally time to rest, he climbed upon his bed without properly organizing the discarded clothes.

In that state, he casually grabbed the air and summoned a briefcase, checking its contents.

“Hmm.”

The documents inside the bag all pertained to people.

To be precise, they were documents regarding those who would help with the adult ceremony held on the day of becoming an adult, the guests participating in the ceremony, and individuals who had been invited but had yet to respond whether they would attend.

Even if it was a profile, there was nothing particularly special about it.

It noted how each individual lived, which schools they attended, what positions they held, and what work they did. It also included their preferences and the topics of conversation that would be best, and the kinds of relationships they held with others, and so on.

Jinseong’s eyes sparkled as he looked at the documents in his hand.

This was not merely a list of information but a manual for creating connections and building relationships.

“A significant gift indeed.”

This was a present.

A congratulatory gift from Lee Yang-hoon for the adult ceremony.

“Hmm.”

Jinseong could read Yang-hoon’s intentions through the document in his hand.

From the ‘manual’ he held, he sensed Yang-hoon’s sense of obligation, affection, and a touch of guilt.

The guilt was simple.

Yang-hoon’s blunders had caused a butterfly effect, leading to Park Jinseong’s parents engaging in unsavory acts, ultimately resulting in their death.

Simply put, Yang-hoon could be seen as the enemy who had caused Jinseong’s parents to perish. No matter how intertwined chance might be, it was undeniable that the human heart couldn’t easily sever ties.

Yang-hoon would think he bore some responsibility for Jinseong’s loss, and he would feel that if Jinseong resented him, he couldn’t remain silent about it.

Yet, Jinseong himself harbored none of those feelings.

“If so many coincidences overlap, it would be no different than fate. Could a butterfly truly know that its wingbeat would become a hurricane or that such a hurricane would harm lives? All of existence is intricately linked, and little things can dictate life and death, so it’s not strange to call it fate.”

However, human emotions were often not so easily made or unmade.

Every time Yang-hoon looked at Jinseong, he would probably unconsciously or consciously recall his past mistakes, along with slight feelings of guilt towards him.

And this sense of obligation likely stemmed from that guilt as well.

That’s why when the Patriotic Corps and the National Defense Council asked Yang-hoon to take Jinseong under his wing, he readily accepted.

What they requested was ‘to ensure that Park Jinseong would receive ample support until his coming of age,’ and simply providing a large sum of money, good lodging, and golden opportunities was likely sufficient.

And thus, while raising a boy who was as good as a stranger in a household without a son, bonds would naturally develop. Because Jinseong couldn’t fill the void of a son, Yang-hoon might have projected that onto Jinseong, or he could have felt familial affection watching Jinseong get along with Iserin and Iarin. Or perhaps Jinseong’s antics lessened the invisible barrier between them bit by bit.

After all, humans become closer through encounters.

And what emerged from those accumulated feelings was now the manual in his hand.

It couldn’t create familial ties, but it was certainly an item filled with Yang-hoon’s goodwill, wishing for Jinseong’s bright future.

Jinseong graciously accepted this ‘deep favor.’

There was no reason not to accept it.

To build connections and step inside that world, transforming himself through magic, this gift would be a great help.

That’s why Jinseong gladly accepted the gift.

Before regression, when he was little, he had run away saying it was burdensome…

Yet, the Jinseong back then was far different from the Jinseong of now.

In terms of age.

Thoughts.

Experiences.

“Receiving is fine, and later I can just return the favor.”

And this gift from Yang-hoon wasn’t solely beneficial to Jinseong.

Yang-hoon, too, could boast about having ‘a shaman who is a rare gem in the magic desert that is Korea,’ and leverage the advantage of being closer to such a rare native shaman to build connections and cultivate good ties with the government.

With the right timing and fortune, he could cover up the relatively weak connections and light image that would become a vulnerability given how newly formed they were.

“It’s possible he could climb the corporate hierarchy.”

The Gwangyang Group was a conglomerate that reached out in many directions, as its name implied.

It was only natural that Yang-hoon was referred to as a chaebol head.

But not all chaebols were the same.

There was a clear difference between those chaebols who had steadily expanded their power since the founding of the Republic of Korea and those who had rapidly risen to prominence due to favorable circumstances. Especially since Yang-hoon gave off a strong “new money” vibe, he wasn’t greatly respected.

In the gap between mockery and respect.

In places where martial artists or wizards, who valued practicality over showmanship, held the keys, Yang-hoon would be respected and treated favorably; conversely, in realms heavy with politics, power, or media where showmanship was essential, Yang-hoon would be covertly dismissed.

No matter how well he earned money or expanded his business, it was said that he lacked the sophistication that should accompany it.

Perhaps the discord created by the expensive items scattered carelessly throughout his mansion was a reflection of Yang-hoon’s trauma.

“It might be severe, but still. Tsk tsk. Everything has its proper measure.”

But if Jinseong were to make an appearance, the situation would change slightly.

A shaman, nearly nonexistent in Korea.

Not simply an unknown needing credibility, but a figure connected to the massive Patriotic Corps and National Defense Council, considered akin to a son nurtured by Yang-hoon himself.

Having lived together for a long time, verification had been completed.

He was of a certain status, reliable, validated, and having been raised under a chaebol, he undoubtedly would have a pro-powerbase disposition. Moreover, he even bravely fought alongside other shamans in Russia to save lives, showcasing outstanding skills.

The connections, of course, would flow naturally.

In this process, not only would the target, Jinseong, be approached but also Yang-hoon, leading to the formation of golden connections.

“The mere act of giving gifts is tied to mutual benefits; truly, a born merchant.”

Jinseong chuckled softly as he began to examine the documents.

 

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