Chapter 69: The Crucial Point Is the Internship Certificate

Merlin looked down at Jean, who was bawling his eyes out, tears and snot running everywhere. The fellow clung to Merlin’s hand as though it were his last lifeline, gripping so tightly that Merlin couldn’t even pull free.

Good grief… this guy’s going to wring my arm off.

“No,” Merlin muttered under his breath, his tone cool and dismissive. “You’re giving me too much credit. I’m not some benevolent saint—I only wanted to save a few gold coins from hiring you lot of cattle and horses.”

The truth was simple. On the open market, top-quality fresh tea leaves went for eight silver coins per pound. If he were to pay Jean and the others fairly, he’d have to part with at least six silver coins per pound, and more realistically seven, once he factored in reputation, transportation, and the organizational costs of gathering and processing the leaves.

But instead of following that costly route, Merlin had raised the price just a little—up to a single gold coin. That alone was enough to make these students, who were eager to earn and eager to please, willingly throw themselves into the painstaking task of tea frying.

Tea frying was no simple chore. Every step—wither, roll, ferment, dry, refine—demanded precise labor and skilled hands. The craft was intricate, and every stage ate away at costs. Merlin had weighed it all carefully, crunching the numbers in his head. One gold coin to cover all the processes and end up with finished product in hand… it was obvious he’d profit.

Yes, he thought with satisfaction. It’s a clean deal. They think I’m generous. I think I’m clever. Everybody’s happy.

For now, the most urgent task was to build the tea-frying workshop. The sooner it was up, the sooner the coins would start rolling in.

“Where’s Gallant? Where the hell did he run off to?” Merlin snapped. “Stop whatever else you’re doing and get me a temporary workshop set up—now!”

Almost instantly, Gallant came running, a bit breathless. He had been paving a path just a moment ago. Yesterday, he had managed to recruit two fourth-tier intermediate earth mages—senior students from the academy. The moment those two heard there was work here, they had rushed over eagerly. The real bait? This job could stamp an internship record!

At the Arcane Academy, by the fourth year every student was required to complete an internship. Unless you were one of the rare, outstanding few chosen by the academy itself, you had to fend for yourself, finding a placement wherever you could. The rules were loose—it didn’t matter what the internship involved, so long as it was legitimate and could provide an official seal.

Usually, such opportunities came from noble estates, mercenary groups, trading guilds, or the Imperial court and military. But the seal was the crucial part. Only six major empires, the Arcane Academy, or certain certified racial authorities could issue valid ones.

Merlin, of course, had no problem there. On his last trip to the tavern, he had conveniently brought back his father’s family seal—the insignia of House Leo. Anyone working under him was technically serving House Leo, which meant getting a stamped internship record was as easy as breathing.

In truth, for most fourth-years, unless you had connections or noble blood, it was nearly impossible to secure an internship. Most Arcane Academy students didn’t have high mana levels; without resources or backing, how much could they improve with just study time? The two seniors Gallant had recruited were living proof—four years in, and they were still just intermediate fourth-tier mages.

Merlin himself, on the other hand, was already a third-tier novice mage.

When most students entered as freshmen, they were only first-tier apprentices. The talented might reach second-tier trainees, but only nobles—those with wealth, resources, and influence—could rise to third-tier like Merlin.

And Merlin, before he ever crossed into this world, had been the hardworking type, diligent in study and practice. Among first-years, third-tier novices were rare indeed—Merlin could rightly be called a genius, no matter how much he downplayed it.

“Boss Merlin,” Gallant’s voice broke through his musings. He had jogged over again, dust clinging to his sleeves. “There’s something I need to report.”

At that moment, Merlin was reclining lazily on a deck chair, sipping a glass of freshly mixed blueberry juice. He tilted his head, one brow arched. “What is it?”

“It’s about the tea workshop you planned. There’s… been a small problem.”

“Oh?” Merlin tapped the rim of his glass thoughtfully. “I remember placing it across the river, not far from your tea mountains. What’s gone wrong?”

Gallant hesitated, then sighed. “Boss… it’s the elves. You’d better come see for yourself.”

“Elves?” Merlin’s eyes narrowed. He turned his head toward Stacie, who stood quietly at his side. Her face was unreadable, showing not even the faintest flicker of surprise.

“Fine. Let’s go take a look.”

A fourth-year water mage from the Beast-Taming Academy—one of those desperate for an internship stamp—stepped forward with obsequious eagerness. He conjured a sphere of water, wrapping it around Merlin, Gallant, and Stacie, then strode across the rushing current, carrying them to the far bank.

Even before they landed, Merlin heard raised voices echoing across the riverbank.

“I told you not to touch this place! Do you humans not listen? This land belongs to the elves!”

Merlin frowned, following the sound. Sure enough, his construction crew was locked in a tense standoff with a cluster of elves.

“What’s going on here?” Merlin strode forward, brows knit. His eyes fell upon one familiar, unwelcome figure—Stacie’s older brother, the insufferable Kaelos.

“Well, well, well. Isn’t this a surprise,” Merlin said dryly, crossing his arms as he faced him. “Kaelos. Only been a few days and you’re already looking worse for wear?”

At the sight of Merlin’s face—handsome enough to outshine his own—Kaelos’ temper flared instantly. His eyes blazed as he jabbed an accusatory finger toward him. “You! It’s you!”

“Yes, yes, it’s me,” Merlin replied, his voice thick with mockery. “So, tell me—what, this place is your territory now?”

He cast a glance at the ground around them. The area was blanketed in lush green vines, thick and tangled, weaving a dense carpet of foliage. The sight stirred an odd sense of familiarity in him.

Kaelos’ gaze flicked to Stacie, standing calm and composed behind Merlin. His brows furrowed. In the past, the girl had always shrunk from him, timid and fearful. But now? Now she met his eyes with a steady calm, even a faint smile playing on her lips.

Something’s changed with her… Kaelos thought uneasily. But Merlin’s voice cut in, snapping his focus back.

“Kaelos, why are you blocking my construction crew?”

“You talk of being blocked?” Kaelos sneered, his voice rising. “Merlin, I should be asking why you barged into elven territory without permission!”

“Elven territory?” Merlin’s tone dripped with disdain. “The academy’s back mountain has always been a public area. Since when did it belong to your kind?”

“The noble elves do not stoop to live among filthy humans,” Kaelos declared, chest swelling with arrogance. “We fear your tainted souls would defile us.”

Merlin waved a hand dismissively, utterly done with the pompous rhetoric. “Speak in human words.”

Kaelos’ eyes reddened, fury sparking. “You dare insult me?!”

Merlin tilted his head, feigning innocence. “Insult you? All I did was ask you to speak plainly.”

“We elves are noble beings!” Kaelos thundered. “We speak the common tongue of the Federation. Do not lump us together with your filthy human rabble!”

Merlin’s fists itched. He truly wanted to plant a few punches across that smug face. Talking with elves—especially this elf—was exhausting. Every sentence seemed to demand that humans be belittled. Who had the time for such nonsense?

“Shut your mouth, Kaelos,” Merlin said coldly, his patience at its limit. “We’re starting construction here. We’re building a tea workshop. If you’ve got nothing better to do, then get lost. Don’t waste my time—or delay my profits.”

There was steel in his voice now. Merlin had no time to bandy words—he had a business to run, money to make, and a future to secure.

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