The more they oppose, the more it shows that I am doing the right thing-Chapter 493 - 283 Miss Enya: Insignificant - 3
The position of Priest is followed by that of District Bishop, also known as Purple Robed Bishop.
In just the span of one year, it was possible to ascend from Quasi-Saint through three tiers, becoming the Radiant Priest An Su at the tender age of sixteen. This meteoric rise could be said to be unprecedented and unrivaled.
A year earlier, the Magic prodigy Ai Xueli, who had proctored his exams, also became a Priest at the age of twenty-one.
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Having donned his new clothes, An Su took the towel from Miss Maid, wiped his face, and prepared to leave the house.
"By the way, young master," Miss Enya suddenly said, "Do you need me to go out and exchange those two bills from inside your shirt yesterday?"
The two bills she referred to were none other than two lottery tickets—one of which bore an enormous face value and was a special custom gold ticket with the words "One Vein Gold Mine" emblazoned on its cover.
This ticket was an artwork in itself, surrounded by a thin layer of gold foil, with a protective Magic Circuit embedded within, and the design of the ticket itself was hand-drawn by the most outstanding master painter in the Imperial Capital, depicting the divine Radiant Grand Cathedral—a magnificent spectacle as if crafted by the gods.
Even if one were not to exchange it right away, keeping it at home as a collectible would still be an eye-catching prize.
The other ticket, by contrast, appeared quite ordinary, its entire body pristine white with a denomination of "Three Hundred Gold Coins". Although this was the highest denomination issued by the public, it seemed meager and pitiable next to the bold letters proclaiming "One Vein Gold Mine".
Its design was also a standard issue, just like those common lottery tickets, printed unanimously by the Magic printing machine, with somewhat blurred colors and a mere small white snowflower as its pattern.
Despite its ordinary denomination and ubiquitous appearance, this ticket was unique. It was the singular ticket out of tens of thousands issued that bet on An Su’s victory.
An Su looked at the two tickets and, after some thought, said without hesitation, "Exchange the golden one."
"What about the white one?" Enya asked, somewhat puzzled, tilting her head, "Do you want me to destroy it?"
She didn’t understand why the young master would buy such a low-value lottery ticket.
If Lord Karlo were to see it, he would probably faint on the spot in anger, exclaiming that our family had fallen to such lows, this wretch’s reading of doctoral-level materials measured in Gold Coins instead of gold mines!
"Give me the other one. I will throw it away myself."
An Su took the ordinary-looking gambling ticket. The design on the ticket was simplistic: a vast expanse of snowy white land cradling a similarly white little flower, its whiteness as if melting into the world itself.
An Su placed the small flower and that piece of the world into his new lining, and after making sure it was secure, he gently pressed down on it and pushed open the room’s door.
The warm light of dawn streamed in, as the Crowing Saintess had already called forth the Sun. The autumnal light spread through the streets, alleys, and buildings of Farol like golden wheat, and An Su squinted his eyes, gazing at the gently hued sky.
Today’s weather isn’t bad, he thought to himself.
Enya watched An Su descend the steps, still not understanding where the young master’s gambling ticket had come from, but she didn’t dwell on it. An Su must have had his reasons for doing so.
She had flawlessly carried out the young master’s instructions, ensuring he got up on time and didn’t miss today’s events—certainly, he must like and trust her more now, with her favorability rating substantially increased.
Miss Enya nodded earnestly, feeling her work had been impeccable, and without further concern, returned to her desk to continue writing her novel. Recently, "Saintess Demon Suppressing Chronicles" had experienced a revival, heating up once more, and she didn’t know who had written it, but it posed a certain threat to her status in the literary world.
But, that was all.
It was merely ordinary toilet paper.
Readers would surely grow tired of it quickly, soon losing interest.
It was utterly negligible.
Enya, supporting her cheek, concentrated on writing, her pen flying briskly across the paper as the orange sunlight filtered through the window bars onto her cool and collected profile. Although she wore no extra expression, Miss Enya’s confidence was palpable.
How could fictional toilet paper ever triumph over the real-life stories she drew from?
Beneath the warm autumn sun, Miss Enya thought thus.
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