Chapter 3 Wiseborn

Chapter 3

Wiseborn

"Look at you-Ethan Farris actually cares about you. He's just too damn proud to admit it," Margaret teased with a knowing glance.

She turned to James. "Fetch the black box from my vanity, will you?"

James hurried upstairs and returned with the box, handing it to Ivy before stepping back with Wiseborn and the other staff. A good housekeeper knew when to vanish.

Ivy opened the box. The charm inside was unmistakable-her master's signature work, full of chaotic scribbles and eccentric energy. She let out a chuckle. "Figures. That's definitely his style."

George leaned in. "What kind of charm is that?"

"A reversal charm," she murmured. "My guess? He left me a message."

She tapped her fingers against the charm, sending a pulse of energy into it. The parchment shimmered, lifted off her palm, and twisted in the air-until it formed a floating image.

It was Master Ethan Farris, or rather, a magical projection of him.

George's jaw dropped.

He knew how powerful Ethan Farris was-but for Ivy to summon this without even bleeding? That was another level entirely. He remembered how much it had taken Ethan to break the curse on Margaret. The man had been coughing up blood for hours. When Margaret finally woke up, George had been so moved he swore he'd do anything for Ethan-"Even if it meant walking through fire," he'd said.

Ethan had just smiled and said, "In that case, betroth your son to my disciple."

George had agreed on the spot.

Looking back now, it felt like the Shen-no, the Farris family had struck gold.

The projection of Ethan Farris began to speak: "My dear apprentice, if you're seeing this... it means I'm gone."

Margaret and George instinctively reached for Ivy, both of them flanking her protectively.

"We're here for you," George said gently. "And so is Joel. If anyone dares to lay a finger on you-just say the word."

George elbowed his son. Ethan said nothing.

Finally, he mumbled, "My condolences."

George smacked the back of his head. "Out of all the things to say... you could've just stayed quiet."

Ethan scowled. "You asked me to say something!"

Ivy cleared her throat to defuse the tension. "I appreciate it. Really, I'm okay."

The projection continued rambling: "Don't skip meals. Don't stay up late. Don't forget to wear socks when it's cold..."

Margaret teared up. George blinked quickly, pretending something had gotten in his eye.

Just as the figure began to fade, it snapped back to full clarity. "Oh, and one more thing..."

Ivy's gut told her this would be bad.

Sure enough, her master declared, "Stick close to Ethan! If it doesn't work the first time, try again. You know what I mean-don't play dumb! Master loves you, okay? Muah!" He made a ridiculous heart with his fingers before disappearing in a shimmer of light.

Ivy groaned, covering her face with both hands. Her ears burned.

Margaret and George stared blankly for a moment, then sighed in unison. That eccentric man really hadn't changed.

Ethan looked out the window, pretending he'd seen and heard nothing whatsoever.

Thankfully, James knocked at that moment. "Dinner's ready. Miss Ivy, Mr. Ethan, sir, ma'am."

Margaret clapped her hands together. "Perfect timing."

She tugged Ivy toward the table, beaming. "Come on, dear. Eat up-you're skin and bones."

"Thanks, Grandma," Ivy said, not bothering to argue. The warm chicken soup smelled like peace.

Margaret and George exchanged another glance across the table. Margaret nodded slightly. Everything was going exactly as planned.

George nudged Ethan, whispering, "Don't just eat; say something."

Ethan put down his fork, braced himself, and said, "Ivy, do you have any other family members?"

Ivy, who had been focusing on her meal, looked up and replied, "I was abandoned by my parents when I was born. I grew up under the care of a mentor. After my mentor left, I've been on my own."

I'm sorry... Ethan felt he was too awkward, making the conversation uncomfortable.

Ivy didn't mind at all, saying, "It's alright, I'm quite comfortable being alone. My mentor often wasn't around. I had to go out on my own to handle various situations. The people in the village always took good care of me, giving me food to eat."

George and Margaret became teary-eyed, imagining how tough Ivy's life had been. It really broke their hearts.

Margaret kept adding dishes to Ivy's plate, saying, "Eat more, don't think about those sad things."

Ivy, with her mouth full, mumbled, "I'm not sad."

When she was younger, she had seen other children with parents and asked her mentor why she didn't have any. Her mentor had patted her head and said, "You can try to find them if you like, but they don't have any real connection to you. Don't force it."

Ivy had gone to see them. They were a happy and close-knit family. That day, she overheard her father saying, "Let her go, it doesn't matter if that child passed away."

Ivy had been upset for a few days, but soon let it go. Her biological parents had abandoned her long ago, and their connection was severed. Why dwell on it? Now, when people mentioned parents, she remains calm.

After they finished eating, Margaret gently nudged Ethan to go outside. "Take Ivy for a walk."

Ethan, a bit naïve when it came to romance, was strong in business but awkward in relationships. Margaret thought she needed to create a moment for the two to spend time together and warm up to each other.

George quietly gave a thumbs-up, fully supporting his wife's efforts.

Margaret made sure to push Ethan and Ivy out the door, and before they left, she reminded them, "Ethan, the view from the estate is beautiful, show her around."

Ethan and Ivy exchanged an awkward glance.

Ethan, remembering his grandmother's words, took the initiative, "Let me take you for a tour."

Ivy nodded, "Sure, I've never seen such a grand house before."

Ethan began the tour: "The Hawthorne Estate covers 60 acres, passed down through generations, with a history of over 500 years. It's been renovated ten times, the roads are made of imported stone, and over there is built with rare materials from overseas..."

Ivy trailed behind, yawning from exhaustion.

Did this man really miss the point? If grandmother asked you to show the house, you were supposed to highlight the features, not give an entire history lesson!

Ivy couldn't hold back and yawned again, saying, "This house is well-designed, the layout must make living here very comfortable."

"Yes," Ethan replied, glancing at her, "Grandfather and grandmother really like you. If you ever want, you can live here in the future."

Ivy quickly waved her hand, "No, no, it's too big and inconvenient."

Ethan's face turned red as he processed what she meant.

They continued walking in silence, neither speaking for a while.

Ivy, exhausted, said, "Ethan, I'm exhausted. Can I go back to sleep now?"

Ethan stopped her, "Ivy, didn't you forget something?"

Ivy looked confused. "What?"

Ethan took off his scarf, revealing two deep bite marks on his neck, now mostly healed but still visible.

Ivy noticed them immediately, recalling the incident. She felt embarrassed and wanted to hide.

That day, she had been in such a panic that she bit him very hard, drawing blood. She had almost forgotten about it.

Ivy awkwardly scratched her head, "That day was a misunderstanding, how about I buy you some bandages?"

Ethan casually waved his hand, the shine of his luxurious watch catching the light, "Do you think I care about something so trivial?"

Ethan had that unmistakable I-own-three-yachts kind of vibe.

Ivy couldn't help but roll her eyes. Ugh, rich guys and their need to show off... so exhausting.

Still, she was flat broke. She couldn't afford to be picky-or pay for damages.

With a sigh, she walked up to him.

Ethan instinctively took a step back, wariness flashing in his eyes. "Uh... what are you doing?"

Ivy casually tugged her collar loose and tilted her head toward him. "Go ahead. You can bite me."

Every time she ran into him, she somehow gained good energy. Whether he bit her or she bit him, it didn't seem to matter. Honestly, she was coming out ahead. She figured she could handle a little weirdness-like letting a spoiled puppy nibble her arm.

Ethan didn't move. From where he stood, he had a perfect view of her pale neck... and her figure. He quickly looked away, ears turning red.

"Put your shirt back in place," he muttered. "We're at my grandparents' house."

Ivy blinked. She stepped in closer. "Can we get this over with? I've got a pop-up market tomorrow and need sleep."

Ethan avoided her gaze. "I don't bite people."

Ivy internally snorted. Of course not. Men are confusing.

She shrugged. "Okay, then what do you want?"

It was the first time she'd called him by his name. Ethan felt a weird flutter in his chest, like a deer suddenly looking for cover.

He straightened up. "I don't know yet. Let's hold off for now."

"Fine by me," she said with a yawn. "As long as it doesn't involve murder, explosions, or Grand Theft Auto, I'm good."

She would live to regret those words.

Yawning, she turned to leave. "Alright. I'm going to bed. Goodnight."

Ethan, equally tired, followed her back toward the lakefront villa.

Suddenly, rustling came from a cluster of hedges nearby.

Ivy narrowed her eyes. "Seriously? Are there raccoons out here?"

She walked over-and spotted Margaret and George crouched awkwardly behind the bushes.

Ivy: "..."

Ethan: "..."

Apparently, the retired couple had taken up a new hobby-espionage.

Before either of them could say anything, the family butler, Mr. Carter, rushed over. "The master and mistress were admiring the roses. They thought it would be nice to pick one to welcome Miss Ivy, since it's her first time visiting Ridgewood Estate."

Margaret seized the moment, picked a rose, and handed it to Ivy with a charming smile. "That's right! The moon's glowing, the flowers are blooming-but none of it compares to your beauty, dear."

"Thank you, ma'am," Ivy replied, feeling awkward as she accepted the flower.

Back inside the house, Margaret was all hospitality-serving tea, offering snacks, fluffing pillows. Ivy, despite herself, started to feel a little more at home.

Then Margaret dropped the bomb.

"Ethan, tomorrow you should take Ivy to get your marriage license."

Ethan froze. "Grandma, I've got meetings at the office..."

George cut him off. "No excuses. Everything's already arranged. Tomorrow's a perfect day. I'll handle your calendar."

Ethan sighed. "Grandpa, we're young. Don't you think this is a little... sudden?"

"Young?" George scoffed. "You're almost thirty! Blink, and you'll be an old man. You've never even had a proper girlfriend."

"Look at the Smiths-their great-grandkid is already in preschool!"

Ivy burst out laughing. "Sorry-this is just gold. Please, go on."

George huffed. "If it weren't for me and Reverend Ethan Wells setting you two up, you'd probably be a bachelor until you were seventy."

Ethan stared blankly ahead, his face a mask. He was twenty-six, but apparently already ancient in Grandpa George's eyes.

Margaret placed a hand over her heart, pretending to look frail. "Ethan, you know my health isn't what it used to be. Who knows how many more years I have left? My biggest wish is to see you finally settle down..."

George chimed in with a snort. "Ivy's perfectly fine. Why are you making such a big deal out of this?"

Margaret waved her hand like a queen issuing a royal decree. "Tomorrow morning, you're both heading straight to the courthouse to get your marriage license. No arguments."

---

The next morning, Ivy sat at the vanity as Margaret hovered, cheerfully dabbing makeup on her face with a shaky but determined hand.

"My granddaughter-in-law has such flawless skin and stunning features," Margaret gushed. "You and Ethan are going to have the most beautiful babies. Honestly, the only thing I want in life-"

Ivy sighed silently. The family was warm, sure, but their constant chatter was enough to make anyone's ears ring.

"There," Margaret announced proudly, putting down the lipstick. "All done."

Ivy glanced at her reflection. Her makeup was refined, her expression soft, with a natural glow. Margaret had chosen a classic white dress with a modern twist, and her hair was swept into an elegant bun. The effect was undeniably graceful-timeless, even.

When Ethan came in and saw her, his eyes widened just slightly before he looked away.

Margaret grinned. "Well? What do you think of your wife's look? Not bad for an old lady's handiwork, huh?"

Ethan cleared his throat. "It's... fine."

"Alright then," Ivy said briskly, linking arms with him. "Let's get this over with. I promised the vendors I'd be setting up my booth today-I can't be late."

Ethan slid into the driver's seat. "Got it. I'll drive fast."

---

The ride was quiet. At the courthouse, they followed the steps-filling out forms, posing for photos.

"Okay, now lean in a little... big smiles... great! Say cheese!"

The clerk handed them a crisp certificate. "Congratulations! Wishing you both a lifetime of happiness. And maybe a baby soon, huh?"

Stepping out into the daylight, Ethan stared down at the marriage certificate in his hand, a little stunned.

He was married.

He'd never really imagined this moment. Never thought about marriage, or what having a wife would be like.

And yet, here they were.

He didn't resist Ivy's presence next to him. Maybe this was just one of those strange turns life took-an unexpected bond that you don't question, you just accept.

I'm still rubbing his temples, Ethan sighed inwardly. They didn't have a real emotional foundation, but he could at least treat her with respect-like a younger sister, potentially.

"I've got to head to the office," he said. "What about you?"

"I'm off to set up a booth down at Market Row," Ivy replied, carefully tucking away the certificate.

Ethan frowned slightly, then pulled out a sleek black card and handed it to her. "If you ever need money, just say so."

She barely touched the card when a loud crack of thunder ripped through the sky.

Boom!

Ivy instinctively ducked. Great. Her streak of bad luck was acting up again.

Ethan looked up, puzzled. "That came out of nowhere. Why'd it get so cloudy?"

Ivy forced a weak chuckle. "Maybe the heavens are just in a mood today."

Boom! Boom!!

More thunder, like the universe was warning her.

Panicked, she shoved the card away. "No, no, please put that away. I'm not in this for money-I'm doing this to help people. It's part of the promise I made when I became a spiritual advisor."

Deep down, though, she was crying. That card probably had no limit. Do I want it? Of course, I do!

Ethan glanced at her longingly wistful expression. "Are you sure?"

She pulled her hand back quickly. "Positive. I like to earn my own way."

"Alright then," he said, pocketing the card. He didn't quite understand her spiritual beliefs or rules, but he respected them.

As he opened the car door, he added, "Let me drop you off."

"No need," she waved him off. "It's close by. I'll walk."

The last thing she required was for the local vendors to see her arrive in a luxury car and start asking questions. The whole "mystic advisor" thing required an air of mystery.

"Wait, Ivy," Ethan called after her, pulling out his phone. "Let's exchange numbers. Text me when you're done. Grandma wants us home for dinner tonight."

She nodded. "Want to scan my QR code?"

Ethan blinked. "Sure, I'll scan you."

After verifying the connection, Ivy turned to leave, tossing a casual, "See you tonight," over her shoulder.

Ethan glanced at her contact info: her profile picture was a lineup of quirky little paper dolls, and her display name read:

"Ivy | Tarot Reader, Ghost Hunter, Energy Healer, Spiritual Life Coach."

He couldn't help but laugh. Then he saved her contact under a nickname:

"Irvin."