Until the Limit Runs Out

Lakrina returned late. She appeared again with both hands clasped behind her back, deliberately avoiding Enoch's gaze. It seemed she was embarrassed about having cried so openly. Enoch simply let it pass. She was still at an age where showing tears in front of others felt shameful. Sometimes understanding mattered more than words, and this was one of those moments.

"Are you all ready?"

"…Yes."

"Good. Then let's head out."

Enoch gestured and turned his back. Lakrina gave the orphanage director one final hug before hurrying after the man walking away.

"Where are we going now?"

"Who knows. First, we should get your magic aptitude tested."

A magic aptitude test. In simple terms, it was this world's version of a talent assessment. In most stories, whether someone could become a mage depended heavily on innate talent. Age of Invasion was no different. Of course, there were cases where people reached great heights through sheer effort alone, but talent still created an enormous gap.

Aptitude test, huh… I suppose we'll have to visit the Magic Tower. But before that—

Enoch stopped walking and looked down at Lakrina. The girl following behind tilted her head, puzzled.

"We're heading to the Magic Tower now."

"Ah… Yes!"

"However, there's something we need to take care of first."

"Something we need to do?"

"That's right."

Enoch pointed toward the commercial district with one finger.

"Let's get you some proper clothes first. It's only polite for a guest."

"Ah…"

@

The two of them drove to the commercial district in Enoch's car. He had obtained his license half for efficiency and half as a hobby. With money to spare, life would have been unbearably dull without even small indulgences like this.

"We're here. Let's go."

"Y-yes."

They stepped out of the car parked along the roadside. Enoch exited casually, while Lakrina climbed out with extreme caution, terrified of damaging the luxury vehicle.

This… this is definitely the car I saw on TV…

Lakrina held her breath when she noticed the emblem embedded in the car door. A griffon, the symbol of the Empire. It was the latest model advertised on television, so famous that even Lakrina, who had no interest in cars, recognized the name. She vaguely recalled it costing well over three hundred million Kro.

Just how much money did this man named Enoch actually have?

"What are you doing over there?"

"Ah, I'm sorry!"

Lakrina rushed over at the sound of his voice. Enoch opened his wallet and showed her a single card.

"Do you see this card?"

"Huh? Ah, yes…"

"We're going shopping until this card's limit is completely exhausted. If we don't, we're not going home."

"…What?"

Lakrina's mind went blank at his words. Enoch gently pushed her from behind and led her into the shopping complex.

""Welcome!""

"Let's start with clothes."

"W-wait a moment—"

Enoch guided Lakrina into the building. It was a seven-story structure located in an upscale district reminiscent of Mayfair, filled with high-end tailors and dressmakers.

"Uh… um…"

Lakrina forgot how to speak as she took in the scene before her. Crystal chandeliers hung densely from the high ceiling. Soft crimson magical lights, their saturation enhanced by magical tools, illuminated rows of pristine white luxury clothing stores. The sight struck her like a physical blow. She felt like dirt staining a pure white space. She didn't belong here. This place was far beyond someone like her.

Meanwhile, Enoch was speaking with an elderly gentleman in a nearby shop. The man's name was Belten, the most renowned tailor in Magnusra, the city where Enoch resided. The coat Enoch currently wore had also been made by the old man. Satisfied with the fit over the years, Enoch had deliberately brought Lakrina here.

"It's been a while, Master Belten."

"Hmm, Enoch. It certainly has. You never even contacted me once."

The old tailor clicked his tongue the moment he saw Enoch. The delay in reaching out was entirely Enoch's fault. Enoch chuckled and tried to soothe his old friend.

"Come now, don't be too upset. I've been rather busy myself. As an apology, I brought you some decent liquor…"

"Eversmoke Brandy…? You bought this on the first floor."

"It's best purchased here, after all. So, what do you think? The subtle aroma of smokeberries harvested on misty mornings. It's called Twilight of the Mist. Does this convey my apology well enough?"

Belten burst into laughter at Enoch's smooth words.

"I can't win against you with words. Still, it's good to see you. Truly. So, what brings you here?"

"Nothing special. I came to have some clothes made for this young lady."

"A young lady? Her hair color is similar. Don't tell me she's your sister? I never heard you had any family."

Belten tilted his head as he looked at Lakrina. Famous tailors typically kept thorough records on their clients, and Enoch was no exception. Yet there had been no mention of family. Belten's question stemmed from that discrepancy. Enoch addressed the misunderstanding before it could grow.

"Nothing like that. She's my student."

"A student? Hmm… I see. That's not something I need to pry into."

Belten shrugged and called over the staff standing behind him.

"Take the young lady's measurements and coordinate an outfit considering her skin tone and build. Since her hair is silver, keep the overall tone low. Mix darker shades to create atmosphere. As she's a student, everyday wear would suit her better than dresses. Make sure it pairs well with the current trend of silk gowns. Calculate the estimate first, then contact the dressmaker and modiste for the details."

"Understood. What budget should we use as reference?"

Belten's eyes narrowed at the staff member's question, as if genuinely surprised by it. The employee looked up in confusion, only to belatedly notice Enoch standing behind them.

"My apologies."

"Hurry along."

"Yes."

The staff member quickly retreated. Lakrina was led away by the other employees, stammering "Huh? Uh, uh—!" as she disappeared. Only Enoch and Belten remained.

Belten used magic to summon two glasses and opened the Eversmoke Brandy Enoch had brought.

Pop!

"Wouldn't it be better to drink alone in style?"

"What's the fun in drinking alone? It's better with a friend."

Belten handed one glass to Enoch. Enoch nodded and accepted it. He savored the sharp brandy aroma before bringing the glass to his lips.

"How many sets of clothing should we prepare?"

"Let's see. Five everyday outfits, five for going out, and seven for ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠exercise should suffice. Ah, and we'll add accessories to match the coordination."

"Understood. It seems you're raising her as a mage. I'll prepare accordingly."

Belten began calculating the estimate. Fabrics ordered from Todmorden Spurlie. Merino wool and cashmere. Silk in taffeta and satin. Linen for everyday wear, velvet for dresses. Cambric ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠and muslin for exercise wear. Accessories and cosmetics matched to the coordination. Plus the fees for the professionals, including himself. He quickly tallied everything and wrote the total on a sheet of paper beside him.

"Altogether, it should come to around 6.88 billion Kro."

"I'll pay in full."

"Very well."

Enoch handed over his card without hesitation. Just as Belten reached for it, a terrified shout rang out from behind them.

"No!"

""?""

Both men turned toward the sound. Lakrina, half-changed into new clothes, was fuming.

"You can't, Teacher! What do you mean, spending seventy—seventy billion just on clothes…!"

"…Make it a clean seventy billion, including the disturbance fee."

"Understood."

Beep!

"Nooooo!!"

Lakrina continued protesting as the staff dragged her away. Silence returned once more. The two men sat quietly, savoring the remaining brandy and passing the time leisurely. Surprisingly, it was Belten who broke the silence first.

"By the way, there's something I've been curious about."

"What is it?"

"Your wealth. Just what do you do to have so much money? From what I could find, you don't seem to have any particular occupation."

Belten asked with genuine curiosity. Enoch remained silent for a moment. Under the persistent gaze, he finally spoke.

"Actually, I came from another world."

"What?"

"I came from another world. I even ended up inheriting a strange mission by chance. Maybe that's why this world keeps showering me with pocket money."

"…You scoundrel. Don't go telling people nonsense like that."

Belten raised his glass, treating the words as a poor joke, and focused on his brandy. Enoch gave a bitter smile at his friend's reaction.

As expected, he doesn't believe me.

Enoch chuckled softly and quietly savored his drink. Despite his calm demeanor, his mind raced. One thing was certain: what he had said wasn't entirely false. He truly was receiving support from another ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠world. The real question was how much.

The clue lay in this world's genre. Defense. A genre where players repelled waves of enemies using buildings, units, and heroes. In such games, players typically received gold each turn through system support. The issue was determining how much currency a player like Enoch received in a world where that genre had become reality—and what determined the amount.

The answer was simple: the Empire's defense budget.

Unlike in the game, the Empire here runs perfectly fine without me. That means it's automatically calculating its budget and handling the monsters well. The amount I receive through my status window is probably based on that.

After waking in this world, Enoch had ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠checked his status window and discovered a staggering amount of currency in his vault. It made sense—this world was a defense game. Money was needed to build towers and summon units. What Enoch had received was the game's starting capital.

But there was a problem: the sheer scale of it. The amount matched the annual defense budget of the largest empire. Twenty-first-century America spent roughly a thousand trillion on defense annually. Enoch received slightly less, but still an astronomical sum—100 trillion Kro. Including what he had already spent, his remaining balance displayed in the status window was approximately 99 trillion. Since one trillion equaled ten thousand billion, that came to the absurd figure of 99,000 trillion.

Even more terrifying was that this amount was recalculated and added with every monster wave. Proof of this lay in the glowing yellow section beneath the assets tab in his status window. When Enoch pressed the button while drinking his brandy, the amount updated once more—likely due to the news he had seen in the morning paper.

But that wasn't what mattered right now.

"……"

Enoch stared blankly at the display. The one trillion he had worked so hard to spend had been replenished in an instant under the label of a bonus. The sight stirred complicated emotions within him.

Enoch set down his glass and turned to Belten beside him.

"Master, I have a question."

"Hmm…? What is it?"

"What would happen if someone freely donated 150 trillion Kro?"

"What do you think would happen? The economy would collapse and the country would fall into chaos. With monsters invading on top of that, you might as well say the nation is done for."

Belten chuckled and took another sip. It was the reaction of someone who had heard something absurd. Enoch had nothing more to say and simply drank as well, pushing aside the strange sense of dread rising in his chest.

Honestly, the accumulating money is scarier than the monsters.

Monsters could be dealt with somehow. Even if high-ranking monsters or irregular species appeared, preparation would allow him to handle them. But this endless stream of money had no solution. Strategy and analysis were useless. In a few months, he could buy entire cities without effort—how was he supposed to contend with that?

Thank you, God. For letting me stop monsters instead of money.

Enoch quietly patted his chest. The man who found defending against money far more terrifying than defending against monsters—that was Enoch.