Let's Make a Deal (2)

I had entered the private chat purely out of curiosity regarding her username.

The moment I joined, before I could even get a proper greeting out, a barrage of canopy bed pictures ambushed me as though she had been lying in wait. One could tell just how much painstaking effort went into every angle; she had clearly moved heaven and earth trying to make them look as glamorous as humanly possible.

There was one where she flung open the window to capture the curtains billowing in the breeze. In another, she had thrown her entire body onto the mattress mid-air to dynamically prove its heavenly plushness.

Every single one of her frantic messages carried a strangely pitiful desperation.

Pity aside, the condition of the bed wasn't merely good—it was extraordinarily exquisite. Was she truly an aristocratic lady, just like her handle implied?

In truth, my mind had been made up from the very start.

"Barter is god, and points are supreme."

The canopy bed posted by the Fallen Noble Lady was practically ripped straight from the quintessential pages of a romance fantasy novel. A colossal mattress that would leave plenty of room even if one sprawled out like a starfish. Lush softness proven beyond all shadow of a doubt by her airborne belly flop. If I simply did something about those frilly, fluttering pink curtains, it would be downright perfection.

"Yeah, trading with her is the right call."

Did this self-proclaimed noblewoman assume I was about to turn her down, though?

A flood of anxious messages clinging to me filled the feed. Before she could spiral any deeper into her panic, I tapped the confirmation button, prompting the system window to flash into existence.

THUD!

"Oho..."

Right before my eyes, occupying a massive corner of the storage bay, rested an enormous canopy bed. With the transaction finished, I prepared to exit the marketplace, but a sudden thought crossed my mind.

"Wait, didn't her listing mention three types of canopy beds at first?"

Yet all the photos she had uploaded were clearly of this single bed taken inside the same room.

I had no need for three beds, obviously. It was pure casual curiosity. Yet the moment I asked, the Fallen Noble Lady began to fluster like a mouse cornered by a predator.

"Wait, is she trapped?"

She might very well be in a predicament similar to my own. I could practically picture her shivering in terror on the other end of the screen. If I carelessly told her to go, she looked like she might genuinely venture out and get herself devoured, never to return. I frantically hammered out a response.

For some reason, I had a hunch that our paths would cross quite often in the future.

"Man, this is unbelievable."

The GOAT. The greatest of all time.

Having stripped away the cumbersome curtains, the canopy bed was nothing short of miraculous. Sinking into that cloud-like softness filled me with pure, unadulterated bliss just lying there. Add the floating Gallery window drifting serenely in mid-air right in front of my face, and this bunker had transformed into literal paradise.

Browsing the Gallery after that deeply satisfying trade, I found the boards swarming with users lamenting the conclusion of the event.

Among the posts, one particular Concept Post caught my eye, drawing an extraordinary amount of attention and comments. The username was exceedingly familiar.

"Ah, she's going to get torn to shreds for this."

Completing a lucrative trade was one thing, but bragging brazenly on the Gallery was an absolute taboo. This was an unforgiving pit where amateur internet detectives and dox brigades dug up personal identities and hung them out to dry on a daily basis.

Yet contrary to my grim expectations, the comment section remained shockingly wholesome. In fact, celebratory remarks overwhelmingly dominated the thread.

Curious, I checked her post history and immediately understood. Her usual polite, delicate tone and her past entries explained everything.

Just glancing over those heart-wrenching survival logs was enough to make one's chest ache. Because of them, the entire forum had banded together to cheer her on.

Of course, a few salty trolls spewed their usual spite, but they were an extreme minority. Thanks to the young lady's viral post, interest in the barter system skyrocketed across the board.

"Is it about time to add new stock?"

I opened the Marketplace every morning and evening. Previously, I had strictly limited listings to baguettes, bottled water, and energy drinks, but I decided to officially add canned tuna to the roster.

"And with this, I've got plenty of uses for Mana Dumplings."

Reaching Level 4 placed my point generation on an entirely different plane compared to before. If I committed myself to browsing and moderating the Gallery all day, hitting 10,000 points was now well within reach.

Chuckling at the explosive uproar from the community, I suddenly felt a dull, heavy strain behind my eyes.

"Come to think of it, it really is way too dark in here."

The interior of the bunker warehouse was wider than one might expect. However, no sunlight penetrated these depths, leaving the entire facility cloaked in pitch-black gloom. Straining my eyes against the harsh glow of the blue system interface in complete darkness was steadily ruining my vision. Optimal health was an absolute prerequisite for enduring endless marathon forum sessions.

Having successfully secured a bed through ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠barter, my mind naturally gravitated toward the next necessity.

"Maybe I should look into getting ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠some lighting while I'm at it?"

In this other world blessed with ambient mana, civilization had made astonishing leaps in quality of life before the Great War. It had all crumbled to dust, true, but surely someone somewhere still possessed a salvageable magic light fixture and would be willing to make a trade.

I promptly published the post.

The system chimed instantly, as if users had been waiting with bated breath.

It had only been a single day since I unlocked the barter system. While I hadn't interacted with many users yet, one thing had already become abundantly clear.

My prospective trading partner, Vincent the painter. This man was leagues apart from ordinary survivors; he was profoundly eccentric.

This user, renowned before the apocalypse as a master artisan of peerless acclaim, had presented an absurdly abstract riddle. I could easily find another trading partner, yet somehow his earnest, eccentric plea didn't feel like typical forum trolling.

"Something that will burn through it all with intense ferocity, huh..."

I sank into contemplation for a moment. My thoughts drifted back through the memories of my previous life on Earth, searching for anything that fit such an esoteric description. Before long, a vivid image surfaced in my mind.

Something resembling a narcotic, yet wholly innocent of chemical narcotics. A sublime concoction capable of electrifying the senses and coursing through every nerve with explosive, effervescent refreshment from the very first gulp.

A pitch-black, bubbling liquid sealed inside a vibrant, iconic red aluminum shell.

And with that casual gesture, I had introduced Coca-Cola into an unsuspecting fantasy realm.

The general board was on the verge of outright rebellion.

"Wait, what the hell is happening now?"

I had only just woken up from the first hour of my segmented sleep schedule, aiming for a total of five hours divided across the day, only to be greeted by absolute pandemonium. Why was the entire forum talking about Coca-Cola when I hadn't even added it to the Marketplace?

My bewilderment dissolved the moment I saw Vincent's latest post pinned to the top of the board.

"...Ah."

Vincent had gone and created an entire series of masterpieces revolving around Coca-Cola, running a colossal, continent-wide marketing campaign completely by accident.