The Demon of Greed

The price, you say?

In the Dungeon City of Bastion, there were two special-grade appraisers known as the Twin Pillars. One of them was Wilhelm Arkanof, the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠sole 9-Tier appraiser and adventurer affiliated with the Adventurers' Guild. He was also known as the Executioner.

However, very few adventurers actually sought him out for appraisals. In fact, the number had practically dried up. The reason was simple: he was busy 365 days a year performing skill appraisals for adventurers.

That's right. He was one of the supervisors in charge of promotion exams and a public official of the Dungeon City under the Adventurers' Guild. On top of that, he occasionally took on the task of dealing with the trash that crawled into the city, living up to his title as the Executioner.

To the adventurers, Wilhelm was less of an appraiser and more of a problem-solver or a promotion examiner. As a result, the one who had effectively claimed the position of the city's greatest appraiser was the other special-grade appraiser.

He was a rather handsome demon who ran a small(?) artifact appraisal office at the Golden Nest.

A servant of the gods. The familiar of the Golden Dragon Aurion. The greatest beauty in the Dungeon City of Bastion (though Aurion would never admit it)! The very embodiment of gold-worshipping materialism, born from the monetary greed and possessive desires of intelligent beings.

The Demon of Greed, Mamon.

His artifact appraisals, backed by the Golden Eyes that could pierce through the monetary value of any existence, were more accurate than any other appraiser's. Naturally, many adventurers wanted him to appraise their items, and Mamon, who knew this fact very well, saw it as another golden opportunity.

"An appraisal, you say... Hmm. If you truly wish to entrust your appraisal to me, Mamon, who is so terribly busy that I can barely sleep despite having such well-trained staff..."

First, please become someone important and valuable enough for me to want to appraise your items.

"...And how exactly do we do that?"

"By offering more wealth."

"““...!”””

"Or, by paying just a tiny bit more for storage fees at my vault. About ten years' worth should do nicely. How does that sound? Doesn't it whet your appetite? It's simply a modest display of affection and interest in the form of dallants every month. Surely you can manage that much if you truly desire me? Come now, just stamp this document and I will appraise your items right away. I shall become your personal demon."

"My very own demon?"

"You wench! Why is Lord Mamon your demon?! Lord Mamon is my demon!"

"Nope, I stamped it first. He's my demon now~"

"You, you... you bitch I'll chew up and swallow! Hey, get over here!"

"Kyaaaaah! Don't grab my hair, you crazy bitch! Do you want to get dragged off by the guards?!"

"Hmm? My friend, what in the world is all this commotion?"

"Ah, Lord Aurion, can you see it? Can you feel it? This thick, rich human greed and twisted desire?"

"I may not see much else, but I can clearly see you frowning while eating pea soup in the underground prison. I'll throw in a special meal, so go reflect for about a week."

"Haha, you've gotten quite good at joking, Aurion."

"Haha! I'm not joking, my friend."

"?"

And so, the VIP (Very Important Person) system—the first of its kind not just in Bastion but in the entire medieval era—was born.

Inside the Golden Nest, at the artifact appraisal office. The [VIP Exclusive] private appraisal room (paid service).

The moment Raven's party followed Mamon's guidance and stepped inside, they couldn't help but think how luxurious the room was. A deep red carpet covered the floor. Originally, this secret space was only accessible to registered VIPs who paid an additional fee. However, thanks to Mamon's personal invitation—his heart completely stolen by Raven's artifact(?)—they were able to enter.

Raven's party sat lined up on the L-shaped red sofa, while Mamon sat across from them on a black chair behind a transparent glass table, leaning toward Raven.

"Raven. May I... truly touch this wand?"

Mamon's eyes trembled faintly as he looked at Raven, who was casually holding out the wand with its tip pointed downward.

"Wasn't that what you wanted?"

"Well, yes, but... I'm a little surprised you granted permission so easily. This wand..."

"Its name is the Injector."

"Yes, this Injector is clearly your cherished weapon, Raven. Are you really okay with handing it over to me so casually?"

"It's fine. So go ahead and touch it, examine it to your heart's content."

"Ahh, Raven, you truly..."

Demons by nature display intense possessiveness toward anything they define as their 'own.' That was also why they could harbor immense affection for their contractors while pretending otherwise. Because of this, Mamon felt both grateful and deeply moved.

The priceless treasure called the Injector was undoubtedly something Raven cherished greatly. Yet he had handed it over without the slightest hesitation. And not just to any demon, but to one far beneath him in status whom he had only met today!

'Ugh, I will never forget this kindness, Raven. From now on, anyone who calls Raven a crazy demon will be an enemy of Mamon.'

While Mamon shed emotional tears internally and declared himself one with Raven, Raven himself was scratching the back of his head, staring at the white-haired demon with a dumbfounded expression.

'It's not like it'll wear out just from being touched a little. Why is this demon being so careful?'

When Mamon had proposed that he would appraise artifacts for free in exchange for the chance to touch the Injector, Raven had gladly accepted. After all, he'd heard that artifact appraisal fees cost a staggering two million dallants.

If letting the demon fiddle with his gun could save him two million dallants, who in their right mind would refuse? At the very least, Raven couldn't.

—Click, clack.

"Hah...!?"

Mamon, who had carefully taken the Injector and was turning it over with admiration, suddenly gasped as the cylinder began to rotate at the slightest touch.

'I suspected as much, but it actually spins?! And so smoothly... It's as if it's been lubricated with whale oil.'

With eyes full of love, Mamon stared blankly at the spinning cylinder until it slowed to a stop. He quickly regained his senses and asked Raven, who had been watching with a pleased expression.

"R-Raven! What exactly is the purpose of this rotating cylinder part?!"

"Ah, you mean the cylinder?"

Seeing Mamon's eyes sparkle like a child's as he asked question after question about the Injector, Raven couldn't contain his excitement. He stood up and began explaining the structure and functions of the weapon with enthusiastic gestures.

Mamon clapped along, unable to hide his excitement and admiration, giving Raven exactly the reaction he wanted.

'Ah, this is nice.'

Raven nodded quietly, extremely satisfied. There was nothing quite as enjoyable as showing off your gear to a newbie.

Meanwhile...

"Huuuwnyaaam... Those two never get tired, nyang."

Sion watched the two men chatter on about a single revolver for over thirty minutes with a thoroughly fed-up expression. She wanted to smack them both on the back of the head and yell at them to just get on with the artifact appraisal already. But since Mamon had been so generous, she had no choice but to sprawl out on the sofa and endure it.

And Yuri, who had lent Sion her lap as a pillow...

"...."

Grind.

She was feeling an inexplicable sense of crisis as she watched Mamon flash a dazzling smile at her precious contracted demon and wag his tail(?) at him.

Kyu....

'Savior... Please come to your senses. Father is a man, you know.'

"Raven, thank you. I had a wonderful time."

With those words, Mamon handed the Injector back with a face full of regret.

"The ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠pleasure was mine."

"...."

In truth, he would have loved to talk with Mamon all day long, but the quiet pressure from his contractor repeatedly jabbing him in the side forced him to stop at a reasonable point.

I stored the Injector in my coat, then pulled out the pair of black leather gloves we had obtained from the Rainbow Cup quest and held them out to Mamon.

"Hooh, so this is the artifact you wanted appraised, Raven? Leather gloves, I see. Let me take a look."

Golden afterimages flickered within Mamon's ash-gray pupils. The childlike excitement he'd shown while examining the Injector had completely vanished, replaced by the cold, professional demeanor of a master appraiser.

Mamon turned the gloves over in his hands, examining them meticulously.

"Ho? Hoooh?"

He slipped them on, then turned them inside out to check the lining, letting out soft sounds of admiration. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Our party members swallowed nervously, reacting to every single movement and sound he made.

'...This is actually pretty nerve-wracking.'

The tension was so thick they could barely breathe for fear of disturbing him.

'Hehe, I'm glad they're all enjoying the show so much.'

Watching Raven's party, Mamon smiled faintly to himself. In truth, the appraisal had been finished the moment he first picked up the gloves. However, Mamon was a clever demon who understood just how important this kind of theatrical presentation was for building a professional image.

He continued the meaningless performance for about three minutes—licking the tip of the glove to taste it, using a magnifying glass to inspect it closely—before finally placing the leather gloves on the table.

"Then, I shall now present the appraisal results. The appraised value of this artifact is..."

"The value is...?"

"Stop dragging it out and just tell us already, nyang!"

Mamon, who had deliberately trailed off to enjoy the customers' frustration, nodded with a satisfied expression and raised three fingers.

His extended fingers were the thumb, index, and middle finger. Three in total.

"...Three?"

"Even if it's an artifact, three hundred...? That doesn't make sense. Don't tell me it's three thousand, nyang?!"

Looking at Yuri, whose greed was so intense her teeth might rot from how sweetly she waited for his next words, and Sion, who was shaking her tail like crazy in excitement, Mamon smirked and continued in a relaxed tone.

"It's three hundred million."

Not bad at all. You've brought me something quite useful, my dear customers.