Monday evening.
Beta Town, Number 97, Pedestrian Street, D&K.
The shop door was half-closed, and through the clean glass window, the flickering light and a few blurred figures could be vaguely seen inside, confirming the presence of people.
Dong, dong dong!
The knocking sounded hesitantly a few times, and moments later, the shop door was rudely pulled open. A red-faced, stocky warlock shouted, peering out halfway: "Why so late... um... who are you looking for?"
Outside stood a witch dressed in a gray robe, with a light veil tied across her forehead, faintly revealing the tadpole-shaped black spell mark underneath, and a strand of silver hair drooping at her temples. This was the favorite fashion of Northern District witches in recent months.
Seemingly frightened by the warlock's violent movement, the witch outside gasped softly, stepping back several steps in a row, one hand reaching into the pouch tied around her belt, and the other clutching a worn law book.
