"JEHFIT!"
Laxus quickly reached out, pulling Jehfrit behind him just in time to take the brunt of the beer splash across his own face.
"Jehfrit, come with me!" Mira ran over and grabbed Jehfrit by the arm, dragging him off the stage.
"Give these idiots their punishment!" The crowd laughed as they continued pelting the group with beer.
Standing there, soaked but unmoving, Laxus and his companions were overwhelmed with mixed emotions.
"...Thank you," Laxus finally muttered under his breath.
"Shut up, Laxus. This isn't like you at all!" someone shouted. "Even if you messed up, don't change who you are! You're supposed to be strong and proud—there's no need to change yourself for anyone!"
Laxus froze, stunned into silence.
Cana turned her gaze toward Master Makarov sitting at the far end of the table.
Makarov murmured softly, almost inaudibly, "These fools..."
Then he picked up his drink and began chugging it down.
Cana clearly saw tears welling up in the old man's eyes.
"*Phew*—" Mira sighed in relief after dragging Jehfrit safely offstage.
"..." Jehfrit rolled his eyes. "Miss Mira, your rather rude behavior stems from some questionable logic, doesn't it? And that logic likely arises because you still don't trust me fully."
"*Sigh*—" Mira exhaled deeply.
Jehfrit was sharp, no doubt about it, but he sure had a way of being unnecessarily stubborn when it came to certain things.
So she explained, "It's not about distrust or rudeness. I'm planning to sing on stage next, and I wanted to try on a new outfit. I pulled you aside so you could help me decide if it looks good."
"Ah, I see. Then I shall feast my eyes." Jehfrit nodded approvingly.
With a flick of her wrist, Mira activated her Requip magic.
*WHOOSH*
Before Jehfrit stood Mira in a short purple dress that revealed her snow-white shoulders and long, slender legs. The dress itself was simple, even plain—but Mira's natural beauty elevated its effect entirely. It left onlookers breathless.
"Five points," Jehfrit declared, holding up one hand.
"Only five?" Mira pouted slightly.
"Out of five," he clarified, casually reaching into his pocket as though searching for something.
"What are you looking for?" Mira asked curiously.
"Just a flower to complete the look, wouldn't you say?" Jehfrit pulled out a playing card, which transformed into a vibrant purple bloom—beautiful and fragrant.
"Thank you."
Smiling, Mira pinned the flower neatly above her chest before stepping confidently onto the stage.
Soon, her melodious voice filled the guild hall.
Meanwhile, Jehfrit retreated backstage to set up a projection device behind the curtain.
By the time Mira finished singing, Jehfrit stepped back onto the stage.
The audience, still entranced by her performance, gazed silently at him, waiting eagerly for what came next.
"My turn to entertain everyone with a magic trick," Jehfrit announced. "Oh, and by the way, I'll soon be opening a little shop within the guild. Please support me when it opens!"
"Jehfrit's opening another shop?" Lucy tilted her head in confusion. "Didn't he already have one? What will this new shop sell? More magic props?"
*SNAP*
Jehfrit snapped his fingers, and the curtains slowly parted. A projection screen appeared—a menu-like interface similar to an old TV display. Fuzzy images of avatars and names floated across it, too blurry to make out clearly.
"This magic trick is called—" Jehfrit paused dramatically, then emphasized, "Mind Reading!"
"Wonder if anyone's interested?" He grinned mischievously.
"No problem, Jehfrit!"
"Hurry up and start already!"
"Though your magic is powerful and your tricks impressive, mind reading sounds impossible!"
The room buzzed with chatter—curiosity, anticipation, skepticism swirling through the air.
*KNOCK KNOCK*
Jehfrit tapped his cane against the floor, signaling for quiet.
"My magic shows have never failed," he reminded them confidently.
"As for this mind-reading trick, it's quite straightforward."
He produced two cards, which shimmered and transformed into blank sheets of paper.
"The first sheet will contain what I write after reading your thoughts," he explained. "The second sheet already has words written on it beforehand. Afterward, I'll 'control' whoever I choose to say exactly those words aloud."
"Simple yet magical, right?"
Jehfrit flashed a confident smile, igniting excitement among the crowd.
The first sheet would predict people's innermost thoughts.
The second would manipulate someone into saying predetermined phrases.
How could such a feat possibly work?
With so many people present, guessing even one or two minds correctly seemed improbable—let alone everyone's. Plus, Jehfrit's known magic abilities didn't include anything remotely close to telepathy.
"Now, let me begin writing," Jehfrit scanned the area, sighing inwardly when he realized there wasn't a table nearby.
A magician's assistant would've been nice right about now...
This DIY approach really lacked class and elegance!
Flicking a card onto the ground, he conjured a small table. Placing the papers on it, he scribbled a few words, folded them neatly, and said, "To ensure no accusations of cheating with magic, I'll hand these papers over to Laxus."
"..." Laxus, arms crossed while spectating, looked utterly bewildered. But Fried nudged him forward, prompting him to reluctantly step onstage and accept the folded papers.
"Jehfrit, don't mess this up—I refuse to share in your humiliation," Laxus warned dryly.
"Relax." Jehfrit patted his shoulder reassuringly. Turning to the audience, he added, "Laxus won't tolerate any funny business, so rest assured."
"Of course," the crowd agreed, nodding.
"Next, we'll utilize the projection magic behind me," Jehfrit gestured toward the screen, still fuzzy but vaguely recognizable as displaying guild members' avatars and names.
"Explaining everything might get tedious, so allow me to demonstrate with an example."
Selecting a random avatar, he opened its profile. Though the visuals remained hazy, the audience squinted hard, trying to decipher details.
Long spiky hair? Smoking a pipe?
Few guild members fit that description...
Jehfrit selected an option, and a new page popped up—a blurry figure writhing comically, hands clutching their head as they swayed side to side.
*CLATTER*
Wakaba's pipe slipped from his mouth and clattered onto the table.
His body trembled violently; sweat poured down his face like a waterfall, yet he felt chillingly cold, limbs weakening as though every ounce of warmth and strength had been drained away.