Chapter 257
Chapter 257
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 257
Chapter Title: Hassan Goes to the Auction House #4
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“What a shame. Give me a bit more massage.”
As I pulled my hands away from her waist and shoulders, Antiope grumbled like she was disappointed.
“I already kneaded you for thirty minutes. Any more than that, and I’ll have to charge extra.”
“What? You’re gonna charge me just for rubbing my body a little? You got to touch a woman’s body. Shouldn’t you be paying me instead?”
Her words, as she zipped up her leather outfit with a long schiiing, carried a certain persuasive charm. For most guys, this might be something they’d pay good money for.
Lost in that thought, Antiope added a few more words.
“How much for the massage?”
The cost?
I hadn’t really thought about it.
By twenty-first-century Korean standards, maybe around 50,000 to 100,000 won for thirty minutes to an hour?
“Fifty coppers an hour.”
“What? That’s all? Here, I’ll give you one gold coin. Massage me for a hundred hours.”
“Fuck.”
I knew Antiope made decent money, but to think she’d rent me out for a hundred hours with just one gold coin.
I must’ve miscalculated.
Even at five silvers an hour, one gold coin would only buy twenty hours of massage.
“Then fifty silvers.”
Fifty silvers per hour of massage. In Korean won, that’s about five million. Fuck, five million for rubbing a body? What kind of shameless pricing is that?
Even I thought it was insane, but seeing Antiope furrow her brow deep in thought made me tense—maybe I’d priced it too low.
“Fine. I’ll give you one gold for two more hours.”
“No, is your money rotting away or something?”
“We just got a big payout the other day. One gold’s pocket change; no one’ll notice.”
Antiope’s sense of money was a bit different from small folks like me or Luna.
Her own sister, Hippolyte, got nagged by Luna for not having three silvers, after all. Success really changes your world.
Sisters that different? Half-sisters, maybe.
In the end, I had to massage Antiope’s body for about another hour. I came here to train, and all I did was knead Antiope.
Not that I’m complaining—I earned one gold, after all.
Clink.
The sound of gold coins is always music to my ears. Fuck, gold is fucking awesome.
“Ugh, my body... it’s melting away...”
After about an hour of kneading, Antiope looked like a snowman left out in summer, truly melting.
On the bed, her body limp and floppy, the only parts I hadn’t touched were her lower half: ass, thighs, calves, ankles, and soles.
Should I loosen up the lower half too? Then I remembered Hippolyte saying Antiope was still a girl to be protected. Better stop here. Besides, I didn’t have the strength left.
“What? Already two hours up? I’ll add another gold.”
“No, fuck, I’m out of time now. I’m fucking exhausted.”
Massage is like pouring your own energy into the client.
Even five minutes of shoulder rubbing tires you out plenty. Two hours on anyone—even a pretty girl—is brutal.
“What a shame.”
Antiope sat up on the bed and stretched languidly. As her mouth gaped wide, I noticed her unexpectedly sharp canines. Then she added more.
“The way you touch feels different from before. Decided not to hide your skills anymore?”
“Really? Feels different?”
“Before, there was this unpleasant mana vibe. Now it feels cleanly contained. The aura training working already? Results come fast.”
She’s no ordinary person, I muttered to myself as she wrapped up.
“Is that so. Training results, huh.”
Antiope wasn’t one for empty lip service. I’d felt a slight tingle in my hands during the massage today myself.
Was I unknowingly emitting aura-like energy? That might explain my quick fatigue.
But fuck, aura reacting first in a massage instead of punches or spars? Kinda ridiculous.
Still, massage exchanges energy between people. Translating aura as qi or something Taoist-like didn’t seem off. Even Alvheim’s elf, Kallidur, called it energy.
As I nodded along those lines, Antiope snapped her fingers—pop pop—sparking a flame and lighting her pipe.
“I’ll give you another gold tomorrow. Come knead me for two hours.”
“You sure you should throw money around like that? You that rich?”
“I’ve got a decent amount.”
“Yeah?”
I narrowed my brow slightly.
“How much? Not tied-up stuff like real estate or stocks—liquid cash.”
“About fifty gold? Why? Gotta tithe to you? Paranoya already took that.”
“Hmm, fifty gold. But what’d Paranoya take?”
“Tithe.”
“What tithe.”
“The offering for the temple. Said it was tribute for you, Hassan. Haven’t gotten it yet?”
From the looks of it, Paranoya pulled some scam using my name on Antiope. Gotta flick that bastard’s forehead next time we meet.
Anyway, fifty gold.
Way short of the two hundred gold minimum bid. Borrowing from her felt off too.
*
*
*
Truth be told, I wanted to buy Elfriede.
Not like the others—no collector’s trophy for a rare elf species, no drugging her to cure a curse.
But my reason felt bigger, like some cosmic inevitability.
I sensed fate in Elfriede getting chained as a slave from that arson.
Maybe this was my chance to fully repay the debt from when she saved me from the gallows.
That moment repeating.
Even her taking full blame for the fire felt like protective intent toward me.
Of course, that might just be my imagination.
Above all, I had no way to scrape up two hundred gold on the spot.
If bidding heated up, it could hit four hundred like last time—no chance for me.
But is this really the end?
Smooth.
Walking, I glanced at my palm.
It wasn’t like I had no way to earn money with these hands. With the massage skills I’d honed since childhood, I could make a decent sum.
I was pretty sure after kneading Antiope just now.
One gold per hour.
Next auction in a week. 24 times 7 is 168. Even at one gold an hour, that’s 168 gold.
Of course, I’m not running a massage parlor, and I can’t massage nonstop without eating or sleeping. Pure fantasy.
And one gold per hour? Honestly absurd.
But how absurd?
Lost in those thoughts, I realized the east gate street was filled with hammering sounds clanging everywhere.
Dwarven workers, faces twisted under the blazing sun, yelled all around.
“Hey, fuck! Not that side! You weak-ass fuck!”
“What the fuck? Weak-ass? Fire, rain, humidity, now this scorching sun. I’m about to die, you wanna piss me off too?”
They were probably repairing Elfriede’s fire-damaged buildings and structures.
The city’s humidity after days of rain was hellish—sweat poured even standing still. Hammering nonstop in the open sun? Torture.
“Come on, quit the cursing and hustle. Lots to fix, no time to slack.”
Beside them stood a man with arms crossed, brow deeply furrowed. Balding forties guy.
Common face on Gaia continent, nothing special. But familiar—from Elfriede’s trial.
The laundry owner, victim rep?
I remembered him raging about his laundry burning, losing his livelihood.
Up close, though, the damage seemed mostly to the yard and clothesline area.
With time to kill, I approached and asked the laundry owner.
“Repairs going well?”
“…Repairs?”
He scowled like some punk dared talk to him.
Scanning me head to toe openly, he spotted my adventurer tag around my neck and softened.
“Oh! It’s the Samaritan who put out the city fire! I owe you big time! What brings you here?”
“Just had business on east gate street. Passing by, thought I’d check—”
“Ah! Of course, patrolling for lingering embers! That creepy magic fire—rain for days, but who knows where sparks hide.”
He thought I was patrolling east gate street.
Patrol? Then I recalled Hippolyte often patrolled here for street security. Made sense.
To east gate folks, adventurers patrolling was normal. Highlighted the east-west wealth gap instantly.
“No standing here—come inside. I’ll get you some iced water. Not for suffering in this heat.”
The laundry owner—Galad, I think—patted my shoulder and led me somewhere.
Iced water. The thought chilled my spine refreshing. But I caught the dwarven workers eyeing me with envy and mixed feelings after their sun-baked hammering.
Felt bad rubbing it in while they slaved.
Thirsty for that iced water though, I followed Galad inside.
The building was huge, dozens of pyeong at least. Women in headscarves bustled moving laundry everywhere.
“Big place.”
“Biggest in Sodmora! Took twenty years from south gate stall to this. From mending others’ clothes to boss earning ten gold a month. Nobler than most merchants.”
Laughing heartily on the sofa, he seemed proud, subtly showing off.
Self-made man. Successful enough to brag. Ten gold a month. Fuck, that’s a lot.
On the flip, running this big laundry for just ten gold? Felt low.
After earning one gold for two hours on a woman’s body, my money sense was warping.
Still, ten gold a month—120 a year—top one percent in the city, no exaggeration.
Clink.
An aproned woman—maid or employee?—brought two glasses of iced water on a tray. Staring at the frosty white glass, I said.
“Damage repairs progressing okay?”
“Yeah, workers slow in this heat, but manageable. Thanks to you stopping the fire, only about thirty gold loss.”
“Thirty gold. That’s a lot.”
“I took the biggest hit. Others minor—five gold, three gold. No major injuries except the clinic. Still, fixes’ll take a month?”
A month.
Long enough.
Seeing so many innocents hurt by Elfriede’s arson made my conscience itch sitting here guiltily.
Good thing Elfriede stayed silent—who knows why—or I couldn’t claim zero blame in the fire.
How many suffered in this heat because of my childish whim?
And here I was, hailed as the hero who quenched the flames, sipping iced water in cool comfort.
The laundry owner praised me as a hero for a while.
Schmoozing potential rising adventurers with ice and flattery? Smart, no loss.
Normally, I’d be purely thrilled.
But now, I seriously questioned if I deserved it.
Hailed as the hero who doused the fire and felled the witch, protected by many—but worthy?
Nearing Silver tier promotion, maybe even Gold someday, I pondered what hero I wanted to be.
Right now, I’m a crude villain everywhere. Just a bratty kid, as Venus said.