I Refused To Be Reincarnated

Adam's first thought upon entering Brielle's shop was about the smell. Dust particles, illuminated by the sun's rays squeezing through crooked piles of grimoires and parchment taller than him, filled the room with a scent of age. With each step, yellowed pages rustled beneath him, while the stench of mold and ancient ink gripped his throat.

Seated on Adam's back, Quintella scrunched her nose, her hands shooting to cover it. "Yuck! It stinks more than the witch's house." Her muffled groan broke the shop's deadly silence.

Adam rubbed his temples, whispering. "I told you not to mention things from the other side of the sea." He saw Quintella's eyes widen and her fingers tighten around her mouth to block out any sound. He patted her blonde hair. "I know you didn't do it intentionally. Just be mindful, alright?"

"Sorry... I won't do it again..." Quintella started, raising her hands to touch Adam's. The stench's full force instantly cut her off. She shoved her face against Adam's back, pinching her nose with a grimace.

Worrying about her shudders, Adam turned toward the counter. Empty.

He frowned at Robert, who eyed the document piles like a falcon preparing to strike. "Did Brielle go out after opening the shop?"

"She's here." Robert's voice was assured as his eyes locked on a round mound of scattered parchments. He waved his hand, and winds swirled.

Papers rustled in a fluttering yellow dance, revealing what was buried underneath—a woman wearing a loose shirt that had once been white. Now, however, ink stained her sleeves' frills and ornate medieval neckwear. The gem tucked between the ruffs shimmered a shy azure, like a sea under dusk light.

Adam's lips twisted. Did one of the piles knock her out?

Robert moved first, his voice carrying the annoyance of friend or family.

"I can't believe you did it again." Robert's brows twitched as he leaned over Brielle's carrot-orange hair. He grabbed her face, his palm squishing her freckled cheeks as he shook her. "Don't open your shop if you plan on returning to sleep!"

Brielle's nose scrunched mid-shake. Still unconscious, she wrapped her arms around Robert's neck and pulled him onto the papers.

With a deadpan expression, Adam watched the surreal scene of Robert grabbing a random grimoire, then slamming it on Brielle's head.

A sharp shriek followed the cover's thud. Orange eyes snapped open, just as Robert pulled back with the despair of someone escaping a beast's claws.

Huffing and rubbing her head, Brielle channelled her mana into dozens of crackling fireballs. "Who dares smack a sleeping girl's head?"

"I do and will do it again," Robert answered, yet took a step back. "I'll tell Uncle Sylvain about you grabbing random customers. I'm sure your unladylike management will charm him."

"You?" Brielle narrowed her eyes. A moment later, the fireballs fizzled into smoke, and she yawned. "I only ever grabbed you. Must be your smell. Blame it on the time we used to sleep together."

With another yawn, she leaned back on the ground and began to pull parchments over her body like a blanket.

Adam pointed at her. "Your ex-wife? She's..." He rolled his eyes. "Special, to say the least."

"What? May Leviathan protect me!" Robert shuddered at the idea, then realised the sleeping together gave Adam the wrong impression. He snarled at Brielle, brows twitching. "See the misunderstanding you create? Don't listen to her, Sir Adam. She refers to the time we slept together as INNOCENT children back in my uncle's castle."

Blushing, Quintella let out a disappointed cough heavier than words. She had anticipated the drama that wouldn't happen.

Adam, meanwhile, sighed. "Ex-wife, cousin; I don't care. Tell her about our business and be done with it." He let his words hang in the air, then struck it with the precision of someone whose mana hands had haunted countless enemies. "Or I'll tell her myself. And trust me, sleep will become a luxury."

Robert nodded, finding courage in Adam's confidence. He kicked the parchment, threw his head back, and pointed a finger at her. "Don't make a customer wait, Brielle. This is huge—an ancient land deed, the kind that rarely appears; the kind archmages have little chance to hold."

Before he could threaten her about going to another archivist, she gripped his wrist, slowly rising, documents cascading down her shirt with the crinkling of autumn leaves.

"My dear cousin finally grew a pair," she snarled, her eyes blazing with passion. Not for him. For the parchment. "How ancient are we talking about? From the last collegial revolution?"

Robert gestured upward with his palm, the meaning clear. More.

Her eyes widened. "No way? As old as the separation of the noble district from the city below? That's three thousand years!"

Yet, Robert gestured again—more. "Six thousand years old, back when the district was on land, and stamped with the college's official seal."

"Quick! Show me!"

She leaned, her nose almost touching Robert's, which made him cough and gaze at Adam, who retrieved the faded parchment from his coat.

"I didn't come to satisfy your curiosity, but to get it restored." He frowned thoughtfully, the new information causing his chest to tighten. "Can I still recover the land if it predates the noble district's separation?"

Brielle rushed to him, her hand splitting the air to snatch the deed.

But Adam was faster. With a twist of his wrist, he moved it out of her grasp.

Pupils constricting, she tried three more times, each attempt ending in the same truth: the teenager was faster!

"Can I or not? And how long will it take you to restore it?"

A tense silence followed the question as she sized Adam up for a moment. Then, she ran a hand through her hair. Robert wouldn't introduce someone dangerous to her. Adam's origins didn't matter—only the deed did.

"Recovering land is always a hassle. In your case, as long as it was located within the original district brought to the sky, you might have a chance to assert ownership." She extended her hand. "But that's not my field of expertise. I can restore your deed in a week. Special service for being introduced by my good-for-nothing cousin."

"Sure, you library rat." Robert clicked his tongue in mock disapproval. "Let me handle the legal procedure with my lawyer friend. We'll go to court, or even the noble council, if the district hall tries to baffle your rights. You have my words."

"What are our chances of winning?" Adam asked as he handed the deed to a delighted Brielle.

Robert stroked his chin. "If the land was located in the original noble district, and as long as we're not against a marquisate, I'm positive we'll recover what's yours."

"That's a relief." Adam sighed.

A click, followed by the noise of drawers being opened, drew his attention to the counter. There, Brielle, six brushes tucked between her fingers like claws, licked her lips over the deed, ready to begin.

"Let's plan the auction since we're done here." Adam walked toward the door, chuckling.

As he opened the door, Quintella stretched her arms wide behind him, fanning furiously as if swatting away swamp fumes. She glanced back, muttering. "Let's never come here again. It stinks, and who likes old papers?" She twisted a slender finger against her temple. "I'm telling you. That Brielle is sick."

"Everyone has different interests." Adam patted Quintella's head. "Wouldn't it be strange if I liked wooden dolls like you, for example? She's the same."

He still thought she was quite the chaotic woman, but that was merely his opinion. As long as she did her job well, he didn't care.

Quintella tilted her head, pondering Adam's words as they strode toward the auction house.