The Wrinkled Old Vendor
That night, none of the miners returned to the lodging house.
Thanks to that, Zeon had the spacious place all to himself and slept comfortably.
“Ughhh!”
Zeon stretched as he rose from his spot.
Thanks to his awakening, he felt no fatigue at all—just refreshingly invigorated.
“Feels great!”
Zeon was pleased with his body's condition.
He could definitely feel the vitality surging through him this morning, a far cry from yesterday.
Zeon opened the door and stepped out of the lodging. The intense sunlight hit him first thing.
Even though it was still early morning, the sun blazed down fiercely enough to scorch his skin.
In the past, he would have scrambled to cover his bare flesh. But now, there was no need.
This was another perk of his awakening.
Zeon strolled through the mining town, savoring the benefits of his new power.
It was cramped and shabby for a town, but it had all the essentials.
The Magic Stone Mine was a key outpost in the desert.
Caravans crossing the sands stopped here for supplies, sold goods bought from other cities, and parties like Jang Yong-beom's came to check their gear before tackling dungeons.
As a result, a decent-sized market had formed in the town.
First, I need to learn everything about this place.
A lot was known about the mine's interior from the tales of those who worked there and returned. But there was a world of difference between hearsay and seeing it with his own eyes.
Zeon trusted only what he observed and judged for himself.
This was one of the habits he'd picked up in the slums.
The rundown market had barely any people around.
It was so early, and most of the regular customers—the miners—hadn't emerged from the shafts yet.
The tunnels were so deep and labyrinthine that miners took in several days' worth of food and stayed inside. They'd swing their picks for days just to pry out maybe one magic stone.
They couldn't afford the time to come and go, so they slept and ate down there.
It was a hellish existence, truly.
When Zeon first heard this, he'd been floored.
He'd awakened, thankfully, but if he didn't find a way to grow his abilities soon, he might end up in those tunnels one day.
He had to avoid that at all costs.
Grrrrrrowl!
Zeon frowned.
Come to think of it, he hadn't eaten properly since lunch yesterday.
He needed to deal with his hunger first.
Zeon headed into the market in search of a food stall.
There was no way a proper restaurant existed here, but he wasn't out of luck.
Deep in the market, he found a stall selling mystery meat skewers, the aroma rich and savory.
The old man grilling the meat looked ragged.
His face was etched with deep wrinkles, a long beard, and cracked glasses on one side—impossible to guess his age.
Zeon plopped down in front of him.
“What kind of meat is this?”
“Nothing you'd wanna know. Heh heh!”
“Yeah, probably...”
Zeon nodded.
Back in the old days, they'd raised cows and pigs for meat. But no one could expect that luxury now.
Even in Neo Seoul, they made artificial meat, but in the slums, it was rats, cockroaches, or monster scraps.
Zeon naturally popped a skewer into his mouth.
The old man watched him through his cracked glasses.
“Don't recognize you.”
“Got here yesterday. This is pretty good, actually.”
Zeon chewed noisily as he replied.
“Yesterday? Guess you're the survivor who made it out of that sandworm, huh.”
“Word travels that fast?”
“Heh heh! No secrets in this town except the color of your underwear—and even that'll be common knowledge by tomorrow.”
“Tch!”
“Heh heh! Still, you're fresh-faced and easy on the eyes. Plenty of folks'll have their eye on you.”
Zeon caught the implication instantly and shot the old man a glare.
The old man didn't flinch at Zeon's feral gaze and kept talking.
“Watch yourself. Don't know why you picked this dump as a hideout, but it ain't a walk in the park.”
“Hideout? I'm here to make money.”
“Heh heh! Sure you are. But you don't look prepared for it.”
“Prepared how?”
“A guy shows up at the Magic Stone Mine without a pickaxe? Not the attitude of someone here to earn coin.”
Zeon scowled at the old man's pointed words.
The old man grinned, amused.
Zeon changed the subject.
“You been here long?”
“Since the mine was discovered. I'm the fixture around here.”
“That long?”
“Yup! You can tell from those. Collected 'em from the early days.”
The old man pointed to the back of his stall.
It was piled high with unidentifiable junk.
“What's all that?”
“Newbies like you hold out at first.”
“Huh?”
“They scrape by to avoid the shafts. When the money runs dry, they sell what they've got. Start with the junk, end with their treasures. When there's nothing left, that's when they go in. That's the pattern.”
“Crazy!”
“I ship the useful stuff to Neo Seoul, trash the worthless. So that's the last traces of those pit lives. Heh heh!”
The old man's laugh sent a chill down Zeon's spine.
His eyes seemed to say, You're next.
Zeon's appetite vanished.
He forced down the rest of the meat and stood.
“How much?”
“Ten sol!”
“What the fuck? You sprinkle this with gold? Ten sol for this slop?”
Zeon yelled without thinking.
Neo Seoul Colony's currency was based on magic stones.
One sol equaled one-thousandth of a kilogram of magic stone. Ten sol was one-hundredth.
Even Neo Seoul didn't gouge like this.
Zeon had every right to be pissed.
But the old man was unfazed, like he'd seen it coming.
“Everything's precious here. Food, clothes, even pickaxes. That's why they sell it all.”
“What if I refuse to pay?”
“Heh heh! How do you think a weak old fart like me lasts in a rough joint like this?”
“What?”
Then it happened.
Nearby shopkeepers turned to stare at Zeon.
He gritted his teeth under their sharp gazes.
Fixture, my ass.
Now he got it.
The old man was tied to every shop in the Magic Stone Mine. Hell, he might be the market's kingpin.
This wasn't a place where luck alone kept you alive for decades. You needed skill and backing.
Refuse to pay, and no shop would deal with Zeon.
“Damn it. Picked the wrong mark.”
“Smart kid, though. Some idiots lose their shit without thinking.”
“Hah! I ain't got cash right now...”
“Then you got something else. Magic stone, maybe?”
“...”
“Bingo. Hand it over. I'll value it fair.”
Zeon wanted to resist to the end.
He'd killed to protect that stone—he wasn't handing it over for a damn skewer.
The old man smirked at him.
“Rookie! Word you'll have magic stones'll spread through the mine in an hour. Think you can hold onto 'em then?”
Of course, the old man would be the source. But he didn't spell it out.
Zeon glared.
He'd seen his share of hell in the slums, but this old bastard had waded through multiples of it.
Zeon was just a greenhorn by comparison—in street smarts and balls.
Caught with the stone, he had no choice.
“Fuck me!”
Zeon pulled the small magic stone from his pants lining.
The old man's eyes sharpened.
“Ho! That's worth about a hundred sol.”
“You're kidding. That's three hundred in Neo Seoul.”
“This ain't Neo Seoul.”
“You really doing this?”
“Rookie! No strength to hold it? Treasure turns curse. Heh heh!”
The old man cackled.
Zeon itched to punch that grin off his face. But he held back.
Subduing the old man was easy, but the fallout scared him.
Anyone surviving here long had ties to the mine's Awakeners.
The old man acted like Zeon walking away changed nothing.
Decades in this pit gave him an aura that dwarfed Zeon—seasoned, relaxed.
Zeon felt oddly intimidated.
“Haa!”
He sighed in defeat.
He'd dragged himself here for this tiny stone, and it was worth just a hundred sol? All his struggles felt pointless.
What the hell did I go through all that for...
In the end, he handed it over.
“Heh heh! Don't get down. I ain't that bad or rigid. Not heartless enough to fleece a new face dry on day one.”
“What?”
“Here's ninety sol change. Keep it safe—plenty of pickpockets and robbers around.”
“Acting all thoughtful, like a cat eyeing a mouse...”
Zeon grumbled as he pocketed the ninety sol.
The old man chuckled and pointed inside.
“For our first deal, take one of those junk piles in the back.”
“You want me to take that crap?”
“Suit yourself...”
“Fuck it!”
Zeon stormed inside.
Walking away empty-handed felt like losing.
He needed something to even the score.
Not that he expected treasure—the good stuff went to Neo Seoul, leaving pure trash.
Zeon rummaged through the junk mountain.
“What? Nothing but garbage? What am I supposed to take?”
“Heh heh!”
The old man laughed at him.
This kid was entertaining.
Most newcomers shrank and mumbled, but not Zeon.
Meant he had some backing.
This was a grinding hell.
Even the sturdy wore down here—people, gear, everything.
A raw spark like Zeon stood out.
That's why the old man smiled.
Just watching him grumble and dig felt lively.
His fiery refusal to lose was kinda cute.
Then Zeon pulled something from the pile.
“What's this?”
He held out a tiny hourglass to the old man.
“Hourglass, huh.”
“Not what I meant. Why's this here?”
“No one took it, so it stayed.”
The old man shrugged it off.
He was right.
He'd gotten the hourglass ages ago from a caravan heading to Neo Seoul.
Bought it with other stuff, but it was useless junk.
No one lugged around an hourglass post-apocalypse.
Just a bauble, nothing more.
Only Neo Seoul's elite wasted coin on trinkets like that—and they never set foot here.
“Pick something else?”
“Hmph! Dug through it all—no way anything's in better shape.”
“Don't say I didn't warn ya.”
“Whatever.”
Zeon grabbed the hourglass and left the stall.
“Heh heh! Come back sometime.”
“No thanks.”
“We'll be seeing plenty of each other, I bet.”
“Don't jinx it...”
Zeon shuddered and hurried off.
The old man watched him go, still smiling.
Then Zeon turned back.
“Hey, old timer. What's your name?”
“Clexy.”
“Clexy it is, then. Let's never meet again.”
Zeon headed out of the market.
Clexy laughed at his retreating back.
“Can't have that. Plenty left to squeeze outta him. Heh heh!”
Hook a sucker here, and you drained 'em to the marrow.
That was the law of this Magic Stone Mine town.
And Clexy knew it better than anyone.