At this moment in the hot air balloon, Ray was returning home with his father, Robert; mother, Diana; and his third mother, Selene—all of whom were brimming with pride for him. The balloon drifted lazily above the glowing horizon, the golden sunset painting their faces in warmth. The wind whispered softly against the fabric of the balloon, carrying a faint scent of pine from the forests below.
Ray quietly took his pills, feeling the faint hum of his healing energy circulate through his body. The medicine tingled down his throat as it worked to mend his wounds and replenish the soul cultivation he had burned protecting himself through the formation.
When he was finally done, Robert leaned forward, curiosity gleaming in his eyes. "So," he asked, "how did you make all the inventors go and surround the whole Montclair family so quickly?"
Ray looked at his father with a cheeky grin, the corners of his lips curling upward. "I didn't," he said, chuckling softly. "I bluffed the whole time while removing the network from Duke Montclair and his family."
The air inside the balloon seemed to freeze for a heartbeat. Robert blinked in disbelief, and it wasn't only him — Diana and Selene's eyes widened as well, their mouths parting in shock. The realization struck them all at once: he had made it so convincing that they truly believed the inventors had surrounded the Montclairs, ready to destroy them.
Seeing their stunned faces, Ray burst out laughing. His laughter was contagious—Robert and his wives exchanged glances before joining in, their laughter echoing above the clouds, carefree and unrestrained.
Still chuckling, Robert wiped a tear from the corner of his eye. "What would happen if Duke Leonardo Montclair finds out about this?" he said between laughs. "I'd love to see his face when we meet at the next meeting."
The family broke into fresh laughter, amused by the very thought. For a few long, precious moments, all worries and politics vanished, replaced only by joy and the gentle rocking of the balloon beneath them.
After some time, the hot air balloon descended gracefully, landing near their estate. The familiar scent of blooming lilies and the rustle of night insects welcomed them home. Together, they went inside to rest, their laughter still lingering faintly in the evening air.
One Month Before Going to the Academy
When morning light filtered softly through the curtains, Ray stirred awake but didn't train that day. Instead, he lay on his bed, hands resting behind his head, his eyes tracing patterns on the ceiling as his mind wandered. He was thinking about his future—what he had to accomplish before leaving for the academy. Only six months remained.
He had achieved a major breakthrough with his creation, the Crystal Vision, yet he hadn't managed to produce a truly popular show since the one he made for Alice's birthday. All the devices had sold out, and restocking would be needed to restock them soon.
Though he had gathered a roster of actors and actresses to perform daily shows, the scriptwriters and directors he'd chosen were clearly amateurs. Their stories lacked spark, their direction was clumsy. The only thing that consistently drew attention was the news. People craved it—daily updates about their world, trivial or not. But to Ray, those were minor things. He needed content, vision—someone who understood the art of entertainment. Perhaps, he mused, he might find a reincarnate from Earth at the academy… someone who had once worked in television.
He shook his head, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. Another idea flickered to life. If he couldn't rely on the scripts, he'd turn his actors and actresses into models—dressing them in his newest fashion designs. It would captivate the public, he thought. Once people saw their favorite stars wearing his clothes, trends would ignite like wildfire.
What Ray didn't realize was that those "boring" dramas he dismissed were already immensely popular outside. People were obsessed—they watched every episode, eager to know what would happen next. To Ray, they were outdated and plain compared to Earth's modern art, but to the people of this world, everything they saw and heard through Crystal Vision was new and wondrous.
That month, Ray began establishing clothing shops in nearly every city—all except those under Montclair control. He wanted nothing to do with them; the enmity between them ran too deep.
When he returned to the Inventor Guild, he gathered his five vice leaders—Ricky Martin, Agatha Wrenford, Albert Reginald, Felix Gearhart, and Ophelia Cogswell—to discuss what had happened. Upon hearing the story, Ophelia's temper flared instantly. She cursed her sister Barbara and demanded they declare war on the Montclairs. The other four agreed, their faces cold with anger. But Ray, calm and resolute, rejected the idea.
"Not everything needs to be solved with violence," he told them. His voice was firm, yet not unkind. He explained how he had already received compensation from the Montclair family. The vice leaders, though dissatisfied, relented—but they didn't forget. Prices for Montclair orders rose by twenty percent overnight. Rumors began to circulate—whispers that Duke Montclair had tried to harm one of the Inventor Guild's members. Soon, other merchants followed suit, raising their prices as well, fearful of drawing the guild's ire.
Amid all that chaos, Ray turned his focus back to fashion. He launched his clothing brand under the simple name Ray's Shop. It wasn't the grandest name, but it stuck—and within days, every store was packed. His advertisements—actors and actresses modeling his designs on Crystal Vision—captured the hearts of men and women alike.
Ray himself even starred in an ad for children's clothing, while Alice modeled for one of the women's lines. The results were astonishing. Within days, the designs went viral. Ladies who once wore silk now wanted to sleep in Ray's soft new pajamas or dazzle in his gorgeous dresses. Men envied the comfort of the clothes they saw on-screen. Demand exploded, and his inventory emptied faster than he could produce.
To keep up, Ray handpicked skilled sewing women from the villages—those who worked from home, their hands already deft with thread. He sent them to work under Granny Theresa's supervision. His shadow guards helped him identify trustworthy artisans, investigating each quietly. Day by day, the operation grew, and Ray's Shop became a phenomenon.
Watching it all unfold, Ray felt a rare sense of peace. His ventures—the crystal mines, the inventions, the shops—were finally yielding fruit. Perhaps he could even fill his vault with enough profit to satisfy those "greedy vampires" he called inventors.
But his optimism was short-lived. The more crystals he mined, the faster the inventors drained the vault again, their hunger for resources endless. They were working relentlessly, chasing breakthroughs at an inhuman pace. Ray could only sigh, half-laughing, half-crying, hoping they would at least succeed—or they would certainly hear from him.
Still, he didn't linger on frustration. His mind was already on the future—on how to return home from the academy whenever he wished. Who knew how long he'd be allowed to stay there, or if he'd even be permitted to leave? The thought filled him with quiet uncertainty, a feeling he didn't voice to anyone.
For now, he would make the most of the months he had left—building, creating, and preparing for whatever awaited him next.