The Auction House (1)
Watching confusion wash over Karia's face, I let out a silent sigh.
And here I'd assumed I was speaking so harshly because of the evil god's curse. Turns out "pathetic old spinster" really had just been what people called her.
Considering that Karia — with all her memories restored — couldn't bring herself to refute a single word of it, it seemed like fact either way you sliced it.
Which was exactly the problem.
You're not supposed to tease someone about the things that are actually wrong with them.
"...Ah. Benedict's daughter. You're Lucy, right?"
"Yes. That's me."
"Can't you tell just by looking? Don't tell me your eyes are going too. Oh dear. Shall I have a pair of glasses fitted for you?"
The corner of Karia's mouth twitched violently, making it clear just how flustered this whole situation had left her.
I understood, though. From what I'd heard from Alsaetin, she apparently thought of me as the hero who saved her life — and then the very first thing out of my mouth at our reunion was auntie this and failing-eyesight that. Keeping her composure under those conditions would be difficult for anyone.
The one real blessing was that Karia genuinely regarded me as her benefactor.
Through an unbroken barrage of insults that would have justified fury at any moment, she never once lost her temper.
And it didn't stop there.
As time passed, she grew accustomed to my manner of speaking, shedding her initial bewilderment entirely until she could maintain a perfectly courteous expression in the face of any verbal abuse I threw at her.
Truly worthy of being Alsaetin's master.
She was more professional about this than that boy, honestly. At least with him I could see the cracks forming in his face.
"In any case — thank you, truly. If not for you, I wouldn't merely have lost my life. I'd have gone down in history as a criminal."
Watching her bow her head, I instinctively moved to say it was nothing — and stopped myself.
No words I could offer seemed capable of consoling her.
Fine. Shameless it is. That's probably for the better anyway.
"I've been racking my brain over how to repay you. It's difficult. My strength is gone, the connections and information networks I spent years building have all scattered to the wind. No matter how I look at it, there's nothing I can give you right away."
I wasn't particularly disappointed to hear it.
Obviously. What could possibly remain to a woman who'd been missing for over a decade?
If anything, it would have been more surprising if she'd had something to hand over.
"But my disciple mentioned one thing. You received a seal from that little punk Kers, didn't you?"
Kers, as in Kers Newman, presumably.
Head of the Newman family. That poor balding man.
The fact that she called him a "little punk" like it was the most natural thing in the world meant this woman was old enough that "auntie" didn't even cut it — we were firmly in grandma territory.
"Would you lend it to me? Just for a while?"
"The ring, you mean?"
"You want me to lend you the ring? Why? You lecherous old hag?"
"I hear the Academy has no lines drawn into it. I'll handle everything for you."
In other words, Karia was offering to serve as the bridge connecting the Newman family to the Academy.
It was certainly a necessary arrangement.
For now I was content working with Alsaetin's support, but if the Newman family's reach extended all the way to the Academy, there'd be far more I could accomplish.
On top of that, Karia's abilities were trustworthy.
It was Karia who had taken Alsaetin — a slum orphan — and molded him into a genuinely skilled information broker.
If a woman like that moved alongside him, she'd undoubtedly bring back proper results.
The sticking point was that I didn't know Karia the person.
This world wasn't a perfect mirror of the game, that much was true.
There were countless variables that couldn't be resolved with a simple "well, that's how it was in the game."
But the fundamentals held.
Phoebe wavered in all sorts of ways the game never showed, yet she was still the Saintess.
Frey had inexplicably taken a liking to me, but she remained a sword-mad lunatic all the same.
Arthur had grown into someone almost excessively passionate, yet the fact that he was still fighting the complex buried in his heart hadn't changed.
Small variables aside, it was enough to judge the foundation of a person.
But Karia didn't exist in the game.
I knew nothing about her. She lingered in my memory only as a fragmentary character from the stories Alsaetin told.
Which was why I couldn't hand over the ring.
Because once she had it in her possession, I had no way of knowing what she might do with it.
Frankly? Building a direct line to the Newman family was useful, but it wasn't urgent.
I could live without it.
Handing the Seal of the Crow over for something that was neither necessary nor certain?
I didn't need to ask Grandfather to know the answer.
That would be insane.
"Having second thoughts, I see?"
When I gave no answer at all, Karia let out a laugh.
She apparently hadn't expected me to agree from the start anyway.
"I understand. Asking a stranger for something that precious on first meeting would be a lot to swallow."
Then why bother bringing it up at all when she knew the answer?
Just a casual "would be nice if it worked out, no harm if not" kind of thing?
Doesn't seem like it. Hm. I can't read her intentions.
"So for the time being, I'll attach myself to Alsaetin and help with whatever you ask of me. And once you've decided that my connections and abilities can be trusted, you lend me the Newman seal. Toying with that little punk is child's play, you see."
There was real weight in Karia's declaration that she intended to spend the rest of her life working at my side, repaying the debt of not just her life but her honor.
Hmm. No reason to refuse this one, is there?
She'd taught Alsaetin everything he knew, and she was a powerhouse once hailed as the Shadow of the Kingdom — and she'd be working for me.
The moment I opened my mouth to say yes, Karia suddenly burst out laughing.
"Lucy. You must never go into politics. Your thoughts show on your face far too easily."
Huh? Where did that come from?
I was baffled by the sudden remark — but after listening to her draw out the explanation, I found myself conceding the point without much resistance.
Once Karia learned her savior was me, she'd resolved to repay the debt. But before committing to anything, she'd apparently decided to figure out what kind of person I actually was first — tossing out remarks here and there while carefully memorizing my every reaction.
"In this line of work, you learn to read a person's disposition from their reactions alone."
She'd thought she had the wrong person at first, she said with a smile — but a conversation with me had changed her mind.
"Your mouth and your expressions are filthy, but deep down you're a rather decent person."
"You can figure all that out just from watching?!"
"Do I look like someone you should believe? There's no way a pathetic old spinster who got jerked around by that shit-for-brains evil god would have abilities like that."
"I'm serious. Shall I give you my evidence?"
The way my eyes drift upward when I'm thinking. The slight dip of my head when I agree. The way my toes curl when I'm angry.
And on and on — Karia laid out evidence after evidence, tailoring her readings of my thoughts and emotions like a seamstress taking measurements.
Her observations were so absurdly specific they bordered on the surreal.
No matter how I looked at it, wasn't this just an elaborate scheme to mess with me?
I could practically picture her cackling — you actually believed all that?
"Oh? How fascinating. There's something rather similar about the two of you."
"...Grandfather, you're making fun of me too?"
"Why would I mock you, child?"
"Because I'm clearly not stupid enough to fall for a lie like— wait, I'm NOT that gullible!"
Grandfather. When you reach a certain age, there are dignities you're supposed to uphold.
Jumping in the moment you spot a chance to tease me is NOT acceptable behavior!
"Look now. Are your toes not curling as we speak?"
...Uh. They are.
Wait.
Wait—?!
Everything Karia just explained was actually TRUE?!
Karia watched me spiral into bewilderment, snickering, then rose from her seat.
"Well, I've confirmed what I came to confirm, so I'll be off. Looking forward to working with you, employer. Ah — one more thing. Most of what I said today was bait thrown out just to gauge your reactions, so don't dwell on it."
Long after Karia had gone, I spent ages verifying her claims.
Astoundingly, every single one of her explanations had been true.
"...I don't think politics or negotiation are ever going to be my thing."
Just imagining someone like her sitting across the table from me was genuinely horrifying.
I'd probably be leaking critical information without even realizing it.
"Worry not. She is simply exceptional. Even I failed to see through her — that should tell you something."
So this was the power of the legendary rogue once called the Shadow of the Kingdom.
...Thank the gods she's on our side.
Having wrapped up my business at Menesteil and returned to House Alrn, I was placed under what amounted to a semi-enforced rest.
There was nothing to be done about it.
No matter how much time passed, my body simply refused to recover.
According to the Horny Fox's diagnosis, I wouldn't be fully healed until the end of the break — and until then, absolute rest was non-negotiable.
As a result, I never once managed to participate in the Alrn knights' training.
My stats were climbing on their own anyway, so it wasn't a real problem — and yet somehow, I couldn't shake this lingering sense of loss.
Once upon a time, I'd trained to survive. Now my body had gone and started craving it. Terrifying, honestly.
My brain muscles were metastasizing into actual muscles. I could feel it happening.
So yes, the majority of my days were spent flat on my back in bed — but the training sessions with Grandfather were the one thing I never skipped.
Practice Mode didn't care what state my real body was in, after all.
So I pushed myself even harder than I could in reality, making up for everything the flesh couldn't do.
And in the process, I learned something: the reward Armadi had granted me for clearing the Menestale Dungeon was even bigger than I'd realized.
First, the sheer volume of my Divinity had increased, and my proficiency in handling it had shot up.
And this wasn't just a matter of numbers going up.
The growth in Divinity didn't simply mean I was carrying more of it.
The quality of the Divinity I held within me had fundamentally improved.
Purer, you could say.
Thanks to that, the exact same actions now produced dramatically better results.
The proficiency boost was the same story.
Before, casting divine magic had meant earnestly chanting prayers through to the end. Now the need had simply vanished.
The moment I willed a particular spell into being, the result manifested on the spot.
"Heh. Just how much does Armadi love thee, I wonder."
That's what Grandfather said — a man who'd been checking my results alongside me the whole time — which tells you exactly how absurd the outcome was.
And on top of all that, the divine Aura Projection technique turned out to be even more staggering than I'd imagined.
"Aura Projection is the higher form of Enveloping Aura. It no longer merely cloaks and concentrates itself upon body and weapon — it enables far, far more."
To give an example: coating my shield in Divinity had technically been an impossible feat for Enveloping Aura, something I'd brute-forced through raw personal skill.
The effect was real, but calling it efficient would have been generous.
Now, however, there was no need to eat that inefficiency anymore.
With Aura Projection mastered, everything I'd been forcing unfolded naturally.
Grandfather went on spraying spittle about how the technique held untold further potential, but...
Hm. Honestly? I understood almost none of it.
Can you blame me?! It was simply too early for me!
And Grandfather said it was fine — that I'd come to understand it little by little!
In any case, the important thing was that every gift from the great and glorious Armadi had proven genuinely useful.
Ahh, Armadi.
I didn't believe in you! And I'm sorry! Thank you!
"My lady. All finished."
Erin's voice pulled me out of my thoughts.
A glance at the vanity mirror showed my hair arranged to perfection.
Truly a marvel. We go through the exact same motions, so why does it come out so much cleaner when Erin does it?
Is this what they call the difference experience makes?
"Beautiful work. That's my Erin."
"Mmhm. You put real care into it, didn't you, pathetic Erin? Not bad."
"Thank you for the compliment, my lady!"
Once I'd finished checking my hair, I shrugged on the House Alrn outing attire instead of my usual uniform for the first time in ages.
The time had come to end nearly a month of leisurely, comfortable seclusion.
My body still wasn't fully recovered — but there was somewhere I absolutely had to be.
The auction house.
To pass the trial Lady Armadi set before me, there were things I needed to acquire there!
I refuse — I absolutely REFUSE — to wear Lucy's old hand-me-downs!