The Deal (1)

What is a transaction?

I had touched upon the subject just a few days ago, but at its fundamental core, a transaction is an act of exchange: giving and receiving.

In other words, something must go out for something to come back. There is no take without give.

Viewed through that lens, the relationship between Leon and me could hardly be called transactional.

I was exclusively on the receiving end.

Leon would occasionally spout nonsense like, "Just watching newbies grow feeds this old veteran's soul..." but regardless.

The plain reality was that I occupied a position where I couldn't conduct a trade with anyone in the Demon Lord Gallery.

Which was precisely why that private message felt so utterly suspicious.

"Ugh..."

After agonizing over it for a long while, I drafted a reply to decline, cushioning the blow with every layer of polite, roundabout phrasing I could muster.

Neither I nor that demon lord—Ms. Anastasia, that is—harbored any ill will toward the other, after all.

It had been ages since I'd written anything formal, and the only things I'd typed lately were haphazard shitposts matching the degenerate vibe of the Demon Lord Gallery, so drafting that brief note took quite a while.

This should do it.

Considering her personality and the impression she'd left back in Pandemonium, she didn't strike me as the sort of demon lord to harbor a petty grudge or linger over a polite refusal. This was bound to wrap things up cleanly.

Having reached my own conclusion and thoroughly rationalized it, I sent off the message, closed the inbox, and pulled up the gallery boards I'd been curious about. The instant I clicked over to the Popular Posts tab, I realized why the entire forum was burning so hot.

"Wait, the Exchange reopened today?"

Had I forgotten this too?

Beginning to harbor serious doubts about the integrity of my own memory, I clicked open the previous pinned notice. To my profound relief, no schedule had been listed on the announcement.

Digging through a few popular threads confirmed that the other gallery users hadn't anticipated it opening today either.

This sudden cataclysm—the surprise drop of the "Exchange"—was the sole reason the demon lords were heating up the boards with such frantic fervor.

Above all else, the most captivating spectacle was the Exchange board itself, which was refreshing at a runaway pace in real time.

"It's actually running surprisingly well?"

Setting aside the lunatic refresh rate, it was miraculously operating with remarkable decency.

Hardly anyone was dumping shock images or gore onto the Exchange board, and the thread titles and contents were mundane to a fault.

Posting photos of their wares in sales threads and haggling down in the comments... how should I put it?

"...I feel like I've seen this somewhere before."

It stirred a faint memory of certain secondhand marketplace communities from my past life.

The fact that it stood in stark, jarring contrast to the Demon Lord Gallery's usual sewer-like demeanor was a defining trait in itself.

And yet, the Demon Lord Gallery was still the Demon Lord Gallery.

No matter how well-behaved the Exchange appeared on the surface, it wasn't without its disasters.

In principle, any talk regarding transactions was strictly restricted to the Exchange board. But the sheer swarm of degenerate users had overwhelmed capacity, breaching containment and flooding the General board.

According to one of the hall of fame threads, the sub-managers had ultimately thrown in the towel and typed "GG" a few hours ago after failing to hold back the tidal wave of forum addicts.

It looked like the moderation team had since amended the rules, allowing a reasonable amount of trading chatter outside the Exchange.

Thanks to that surrender, roughly ninety percent of the hall of fame was currently dominated by Exchange drama.

By and large, the popular posts were full of entertaining, lighthearted madness.

Of course, with every page refresh, another scam victim or two was added to the casualty list, but what did I care?

I couldn't even use the Exchange anyway.

The Demon Lord Gallery had taught me an undeniable truth: nothing in the cosmos was quite as delightful as watching a fire burn on the opposite bank of the river.

Just as I was leisurely window shopping and relishing the dumpster fire, a chime rang out, and a prompt popped up announcing an incoming private message.

"Come on, man..."

Who the hell enters secluded cultivation as casually as picking what to order for lunch?

What was I supposed to do when the master himself vanished into thin air after tossing out a single message?

Just a couple of days ago, Leon had seemed suspicious and thoroughly unsettling, but upon reading this message, every shred of that suspicion evaporated into ash.

What kind of shadowy mastermind impulsively slams the gas into secluded cultivation on a whim?

Sure, he'd tossed out a backup plan, telling me to ask Elder Moses or Marquis Spider for guidance, but that wasn't particularly helpful.

Raising Astrea is my highest priority right now.

While Elder Moses and Marquis Spider were unquestionably sublime swordmasters, the glaring issue was that the prototype of the swordsmanship Astrea was currently learning was Leon's dual-blade style.

The founder, progenitor, and Grandmaster of the style slips into seclusion, telling his student to go consult entirely different martial sects if things get tough?

Murim purists would cough up blood hearing such absurdity.

"I'm losing my mind."

How could a person be so utterly irresponsible and devoid of planning?

It was right as I was sighing, lamenting Leon's sheer lack of foresight.

A chime chimed once more. Naturally, it was another alert announcing the arrival of an incoming private message.

And the moment I finished reading that message from top to bottom...

I felt my thoughts tangle into an intricate, suffocating knot once again.

Anastasia. Or rather, Asha.

"...Just how much do you know?"