Got Any Cash on You?
The three thugs had only one objective: escape from this monster as quickly as possible.
Did my neck snap? God, it hurts like hell.
My legs won't stop shaking...
I can't feel my fingers...
Their bodies were thoroughly wrecked after crossing paths with Xiel. Fortunately, the shop selling expedition supplies wasn't far away. They would have to cross district lines, but on foot it wouldn't take long.
"Wait. There is somewhere I must stop."
"Ah, r-right. Of course. Take your time, sir."
A golden opportunity had presented itself. The moment he stepped away, they could make a run for—
"Follow me."
Xiel brought all three along, crushing their escape plan in less than a second.
A short while later, he stopped outside a roadside stall.
"I wanted to eat this."
Xiel emerged holding twenty pieces of fresh fried bread.
Gulp.
It was a local treat they bought often enough, but the savory aroma wafting through the air made their mouths water. Xiel devoured two on the spot without pausing for breath.
"Delicious, as expected."
"R-Right?! That’s the famous fried bread of District 42!"
"Is there anything else good to eat?"
And so began an impromptu gourmet tour.
"These are lamb skewers! They've got a bit of a gamy kick, but if you sprinkle this spice blend over them... absolute perfection!"
"Good."
"And these are roasted barley cakes! The more you chew, the sweeter and nuttier they get!"
The three ruffians played the part of culinary guides with religious devotion. It was entirely a matter of survival.
Damn it, I'm starving.
Just one bite...
He took every coin we had, too.
Gurgle.
A chorus of grumbling bellies echoed between them. Hearing the sound, Xiel pondered for a beat before extending three fried breads toward them.
"Take one each."
"Huh? S-Seriously?"
"Yes."
Maybe... he isn't pure evil after all?
With expressions of bewildered gratitude, the three frantically scarfed down the pastries.
It was their money anyway.
A shakedown donation, really. What did three cel matter when he had just pocketed an unearned windfall of three hundred? Xiel was entirely unaware that this small gesture had slightly elevated the thugs' loyalty.
"T-Thank you. I feel alive again."
"I never knew fried bread could taste this heavenly..."
Hunger was indeed a terrifying thing.
In truth, a faint flicker of sympathy had stirred within Xiel without his realizing it. Around the age of three, his memories of begging on the streets were still vivid. The gnawing pain of starvation back then remained etched into his core. He had never gone hungry after being taken into the assassin syndicate, but those early impressions were indelible.
Of course, it was merely a passing twinge of pity. He harbored no genuine goodwill toward these street punks.
Midway through their walk, one of them asked timidly, "Um, excuse me... are you an adventurer, sir?"
"An adventurer?"
"Yeah. Since you said you needed expedition gear..."
"It is required for an event."
"Ah, I see."
An event. The three could never have guessed that the event in question was Edelbein Academy's Sword School Field Training.
Ancient ruins. A multi-day expedition into uncharted territory, facing unknown threats. The moment Xiel had heard the briefing, he had formulated a plan and headed straight out here.
Because...
I believe I've visited those ruins about three times.
He already knew the place like the back of his hand.
"This way, sir. We're almost there!"
Crossing from District 42 into District 38, the surrounding atmosphere grew distinctly livelier, even with just one boundary crossed.
"There is plenty of food here as well."
"W-We don't come over here too often, but if you want a recommendation, Bogis's Stew Shop down the street is pretty solid."
"Bogis's Stew Shop. I will remember that."
The expedition gear shop was right around the corner.
"Here it is. This place sells exploration supplies. Well, technically it's a general goods store."
Closer to the imperial center, one found boutique stores tailored specifically to high nobility, but out in the outer wards, general shops handling everyday odds and ends were the norm.
"W-Well then, if you'll excuse us..."
"Our business is concluded."
"Thank you so much!"
Just as the three bowed their heads in relief—
"Until next time."
A bone-chilling farewell followed.
Like hell there's a next time!
Run for your lives! Who the hell was that guy anyway?
Dressed like quality... maybe some noble?
They didn't stick around to debate it. The second Xiel stepped across the threshold, they bolted without looking back, praying fervently never to cross paths with him again.
They are decent guides.
Unbeknownst to them, Xiel had already committed their scents to memory, pure reflex from years of habit.
"Well now, welcome! What can I do for you, sir? We've got everything except what we don't!"
"What do you not have?"
"Pardon?"
"I am curious as to what you do not have."
"Ah... well..."
The shopkeeper froze.
Is this guy trying to pick a fight?
It was a brand of customer he had never encountered before. He had dealt with thieves and deadbeats demanding refunds, but someone taking an idle turn of phrase literally was a first.
He looks remarkably neat—handsome, even.
He certainly hadn't expected a young man who looked like an aristocrat's son to come all the way to a general store in District 38 just to cause trouble.
"Ha... haha! Well, it's just an expression, young master. We obviously don't carry the fancy baubles and high-end jewelry that lords wear."
"I see."
Crisis averted, apparently. The shopkeeper rubbed his palms together, his eyes gleaming with professional greed.
"So, what are you looking for today?"
"I am looking for expedition equipment."
"Ah! Then you've come to the right place!"
The corners of the shopkeeper's mouth curled upward.
Did some rich young master read a fairy tale and decide to play explorer?
He had found a stray coin on the doorstep while opening the shop this morning. That lucky omen was bearing fruit!
"Ropes, grappling hooks, thermal blankets, emergency medical kits... we even have compact water filters and multi-purpose utility knives!"
"Do you have compasses and shovels?"
"Oho, you're going all-in! We don't keep too many compasses in stock, but I've got them."
"I also require axes."
"Axes! Noted. I have just the hand axe, nicely weighted."
"Also, rucksacks capable of holding all of those items."
"Sturdy rucksacks... absolutely."
"Work gloves, mirrors, and dry rations as well."
This wasn't just a sale; it was a bonanza.
What a windfall!
Business had been dead quiet lately, and now an absolute whale had walked right through the door.
A true merchant never lets an opportunity slip away!
And then—
"Please prepare one hundred of each item."
"...How many did you say?"
"One hundred."
The shopkeeper's jaw dropped.
One hundred!
I won't have to work for a year!
The list had over ten distinct items. A hundred of every single one...
"It... it will take a little time to gather that volume! But I can definitely supply it!"
"How long will it take?"
"Give me three days, and I'll have the whole lot ready."
"Understood."
Was he organizing a grand expedition or something?
This is an absolute jackpot!
"What is the total price?"
"Let's see here... let me run the numbers..."
His quill flew across the ledger, tallying figures in seconds. Naturally, a hefty margin of "profit" had been baked into every line item.
"That comes to a grand total of 15,600 cel!"
"..."
Silence.
Wait...
Did he notice?
Had he padded the bill too aggressively?
"Wait, hold on! Let's say a ten percent bulk discount brings it to 14,040 cel... tell you what, I'll shave off the change and make it an even 14,000 cel!"
Still, Xiel gave no answer.
The shopkeeper's pulse began to race.
He's sharper than he looks.
"T-Then... how does 13,000 cel sound?"
That completely stripped away the surplus profit he had tacked on.
Damn it. I tried to fleece an easy mark and got caught...
He should have realized the moment the customer mentioned a hundred sets!
Is he from the military? Some special operations unit?
His runaway imagination began spinning wildly out of control, fueled by his own guilty conscience. Yet Xiel remained entirely unresponsive.
Why is this here?
Between Xiel and the shopkeeper stood a glass display cabinet. Xiel's attention had locked completely onto a single item resting inside.
"L-Look, how about... 12,000 cel...?"
"Did you say 12,000 cel?"
Only then did Xiel seem to hear him, looking up with a neutral gaze.
The shopkeeper nearly wept.
"I can't go any lower than that! Even for a bulk order, a man's got to make a living..."
Xiel hadn't given the price a second thought. It wasn't his money anyway. Professor Elcanto had explicitly stated that whatever was paid upfront would be fully reimbursed by the academy upon submitting the receipts. Whether it was 20,000 cel, 30,000 cel, or 12,000 cel made no difference to him.
Unfortunately for the merchant, Xiel had simply tuned out the haggling because he had been captivated by the glass display.
"Very well."
The shopkeeper let out a long breath of relief. If he had dropped the price any further, he might have ruined the deal and lost the single greatest payday of his season.
Twelve thousand cel barely leaves any margin... but what choice do I have? Ugh.
Even so, it wasn't a total wash. The profit was merely smaller than his initial greedy fantasy.
"Where should we deliver the shipment?"
"To the Edelbein Academy Sword School."
A chill raced straight down the shopkeeper's spine.
The Edelbein Academy was the gathering ground for the empire's highest-ranking noble scions. If he had been caught price-gouging an academy official...
Thank the heavens. That was close.
"Understood, sir! One hundred of each item, delivered to the Sword School within three days. And, uh... whose name should I put on the delivery?"
"Address it to Xiel Steelheart."
"Xiel... Steelheart. Understood, sir."
With the bulk order processed, Xiel pointed toward the glass display case.
"Is that for sale as well?"
"Which item, sir?"
"That hand mirror."
"Ah, this..."
The merchant took out the hand mirror and set it on the counter. The hinged cover was worn and battered, and a thin fracture ran across the glass surface.
A total piece of junk.
The merchant's instincts flared to life once more. A true salesman had to know how to wrap sand in silk and sell it at a premium!
"Are you interested in this piece?"
"Yes."
With exaggerated reverence, the shopkeeper produced a soft cloth, carefully cradling the compact mirror as he displayed it.
"Allow me to tell you about this piece. An adventurer friend of mine risked life and limb exploring ancient ruins and brought this back among his treasures."
In reality, he had bought it while completely plastered at the night market. He never should have gone shopping with alcohol in his veins. For reasons he couldn't explain, an old crone's street stall had caught his eye, and he had impulsively handed over 100 cel for the cracked, rusted compact. Once sober, he realized it was utterly worthless.
"Which ruins?"
"A hidden ruin somewhere in the east... Sadly, the brave adventurer who recovered it passed away recently..."
The adventurer was most likely nursing an ale at Bogis's Stew Shop right this second.
"It bears a few scratches, but those are marks of history! What do you think? Antiquities like this possess a charm money can hardly measure."
The merchant laid on the pitch thick, but Xiel paid no mind to the tall tale.
He is lying.
Xiel already recognized the object. Rather than pointing out the deceit, he simply asked, "How much?"
"Well, now..."
He hadn't dared gouge the customer on the bulk order, but this trinket was a different story.
"...Considering its historical weight, the fact that it was recovered from an adventurer's final expedition, and its undeniable rarity, two hundred cel would normally be the bare minimum..."
The merchant glanced up, cautiously measuring Xiel's reaction, then nodded as if making a tremendous personal sacrifice.
"Seeing as you've made such a massive purchase today, I'll part with it for 150 cel!"
He was fully prepared to drop to 130 cel if pressed. After all, the thing was useless junk. Selling it for a profit—or even just breaking even—would be a triumph.
Yet Xiel agreed without a trace of hesitation.
Cheap.
"Here is 150 cel."
Clink.
He set down the coins he had confiscated from the thugs earlier.
What a score!
Bought for 100 cel, sold for 150 cel! His pride as a merchant surged back to life. Pocketing the coins, the shopkeeper beamed.
"Here you are, sir."
Xiel took the hand mirror.
The moment his fingers brushed against its surface, his certainty solidified. It was indeed what he thought it was. This hand mirror was never intended for checking one's reflection.
More accurately...
Depending on how it is used, it can mitigate the power of high-tier spells.
In the hands of an ordinary wielder, it could completely neutralize low-tier spells. Its protection was restricted to mental and emotional magic, and the number of spells it could deflect depended on the user's capacity...
Yet the current user was Xiel. And he had wielded one before.
Assassins rarely engaged mages in direct, frontal clashes; they were far more likely to encounter magical traps, wards, and enchanted artifacts laid by sorcerers. For that specific purpose, this item was unparalleled.
To think I would find one here.
When he had resolved to leave the syndicate and scavenged what gear he could, this was one of the treasures he had bitterly regretted leaving behind. Stored deep within the Organization's underground vault, it had been classified as an S-rank artifact. While it could not be wielded offensively, its ability to ward off mental manipulation and sensory interference—the exact hazards assassins feared most—made it peerless. Naturally, only a handful existed even within the Organization.
When the syndicate collapsed, the vault's contents must have scattered across the underworld.
First the black market, and now this. Items of incalculable value were floating through common markets because ordinary people lacked the knowledge to identify them. The Mirror of Truth in particular was something almost anyone else would have tossed into the trash as scrap.
This will prove useful in many ways.
He had no idea through what convoluted route it had washed ashore in this dingy shop, but even with his fledgling grasp of currency, Xiel knew one thing: a price equivalent to 150 chicken skewers or fried buns was practically robbery.
While ordinary spells couldn't escape Xiel's heightened senses, projecting and identifying covert sorcery or esoteric arts through a physical medium was an entirely different matter. To an assassin, clear, undeniable intelligence was just as critical as raw intuition. It would be invaluable.
However...
It consumes an exorbitant amount of mana. I must handle it carefully.
For most people, its mana consumption was so punishing that it functioned virtually as a single-use charm. The first law of magic artifacts: there is no such thing as limitless power. Every shred of force demands a price.
The hand mirror was no exception. Simply carrying it passively shielded the bearer from low-tier mental and emotional spells while dampening higher-tier magic. But because the activation was automatic, an unwary wielder could have their mana sucked bone-dry until they dropped dead.
Of course, with Xiel as its master, that penalty was practically non-existent.
Heh heh, what a killing! Time to celebrate with a drink after closing.
In the end, no one had lost today. The shopkeeper had bought it for 100 cel and sold it for 150 cel. Xiel had paid the 150 cel using the funds donated by the thugs. The merchant made a profit, and Xiel hadn't spent a copper of his own. It was a rare moment where everyone walked away happy.
"We'll deliver your order as soon as everything is packed! Have a safe journey back, sir!"
Surrounded by the shopkeeper's bows, Xiel stepped out into the street.
Once the supplies arrive, I can begin preparing for the field training.
The memory of fried bread drifted back into his thoughts. That savory richness. That delicate sweetness. The crispy crunch yielding to a soft, fluffy center.
Just as his mind wandered—
"Hm."
A figure caught Xiel's eye.
The person was walking with their hood pulled down low, but there was no mistaking them. The stride. The scent. The height. Every marker matched someone he knew.
"Student Karen Aswan."
After skipping her self-defense class, she had consecutively missed her Healthy Body and Physical Strength lectures. The reason had not been shared, nor had Xiel pressed for one. Students missed classes occasionally; it was not unheard of. Yet he had never expected to spot her in a place like this.
Is she facing some sort of trouble?
If it had been Professor Elcanto, Department Head Berhal, or even Teaching Assistant Tyron, Xiel wouldn't have spared a second thought.
However, she was his student.
I should follow her.
Tucking the hand mirror into his coat, Xiel quietly slipped into the shadows behind Karen.