A look of genuine shock finally surfaced on the Master's face. This was the second time Ganin had used that specific term, and he noticed that William had yet to offer a single correction.
The Master found it deeply puzzling. In the academy, being called a "porter" was a grievous insult to a spirit master's dignity—it was an attack on their very identity. Yet, for some reason, William accepted the title with a calm that bordered on the unnatural.
For a split second, the Master felt a strange sense of deja vu. The situation—the calm youth, the arrogant rival, the unconventional request—felt hauntingly familiar, like a story he had heard long ago. Yet, the memory remained just out of reach, obscured by the immediate chaos of the classroom.
"Fine," the Master sighed, his curiosity finally outweighing his irritation. As a senior member of the alchemy department, his storage ring was essentially a mobile warehouse of botanical rarities. "Tell me what you require."
