Chapter 24
Chapter 24
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 24
Chapter Title: Flea Market (6)
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“Heh heh, you're really gonna pay fifty bucks for that thing?”
The military surplus seller sneered.
“Listen, newbies gotta be extra careful in a place like this. You'll mistake fakes for real deals and just waste your money...”
I ignored him and handed the grandma fifty dollars.
“Thank you so much, ma'am.”
“No, thank you.”
He clicked his tongue at me and muttered.
“Tch. I was trying to help a customer out, and you just blew your cash. You can get stuff like that online for ten bucks. Don't say I didn't warn you.”
I just smiled quietly and picked up the box.
He was selling fakes while overlooking the real treasure right in front of him. It was almost comical.
No need to bother with a guy like that.
The fourth booth was selling old pocket watches.
“1920s Elgin pocket watch. Runs perfectly.”
The seller boasted proudly.
I handled the watch. It was definitely from the 1920s.
A vision appeared: a man in era-appropriate clothes proposing to someone at a train station.
“Eighty bucks.”
“Sounds good.”
The next booth had books.
A sign read 'First Editions Only,' and a confident young guy stood there.
“Hmm... Got any first-edition Southern literature?”
“You bet! Here's Tennessee Williams's A Streetcar Named Desire first edition, and...”
I picked up the book.
Let's check it out.
The moment I touched it, a vision hit.
But it wasn't old footage. It was a modern print shop equipped with the latest gear.
A sign read 'Classic Reprints - Aged Edition.'
Fake, too.
I set the book down without a second thought.
“Sorry, but this isn't a first edition.”
“What? This is absolutely a first edition!”
“No, it looks like a later reprint.”
The young guy got pissed.
“Hey, I've been dealing in books for ten years. You saying this is fake?”
That's when a guy from the neighboring booth—selling books too—walked over.
His setup looked way more professional than the kid's.
“What's going on?”
I explained, and he examined the book.
“Yeah... this is definitely a later reprint. The paper quality and printing method are off.”
He pointed out the differences from a true first edition, showing proof right there. The young guy's face turned beet red.
I headed to the guy's booth next door and bought a real first-edition book.
William Faulkner's The Sound and the Fury.
“Three hundred bucks, but it's in great shape.”
I touched the book.
The vision showed a vintage print shop, freshly printed books coming off the press. Definitely authentic.
“Looks good. I'll take it.”
That's how I spent five hours circling the flea market, sorting real from fake.
I never imagined my ability would come in so handy.
I decided to do another lap around the flea market.
Still had time, and who knew what treasures I might've missed.
That's when I spotted an odd booth at the far end.
Marie's Voodoo & Spiritual Shop
Under a purple tent, all sorts of bizarre items were on display.
Dried herb bundles, jars of mysterious liquids, animal-bone trinkets...
Most looked like tourist souvenirs.
But one doll in the corner caught my eye.
Unlike the others, it was worn and ancient-looking.
Body made of burlap, button eyes, red thread for a mouth.
Real human hair stitched into the head.
Folk doll? Doesn't seem that special...
Curiosity got the better of me. I wanted to test my ability on it.
Like the others, it might show the crafting process or past owners.
I reached out casually and touched the doll.
Then, something unexpected happened.
A powerful vision slammed into my mind.
No, it felt more like I was being sucked in.
A dark room. Candlelight the only source.
A woman drawing a circle on the floor.
She traced intricate patterns with white powder.
Then she started chanting something unintelligible.
More scenes flooded in.
This doll and the countless people it'd passed through.
A man collapsed in agony.
Clutching his chest, groaning. Life draining from his eyes.
Another memory.
A woman tearing at her hair, screaming in madness.
Completely insane.
Another scene.
Someone falling from a great height.
All of them met tragic ends after owning this doll.
Horrific memories.
“Hah...”
I yanked my hand away.
Just brief flashes, but cold sweat poured down my back.
The memories were so vivid, still lingering in my head.
“Like it?”
My heart was pounding like crazy.
Misreading my reaction, the booth owner approached.
“This doll's a genuine 150-year-old piece. Made by the real 'Marie Laveau'...”
Her words buzzed in my ears.
I clutched my throbbing head and shook it.
“N-no... Just browsing...”
I stepped back.
Never seen memories this intense before.
The flood of negative emotions made me nauseous.
“No joke, this is special. If you like it, fifty bucks special.”
“No... sorry. Not interested.”
I bolted from the booth like it was cursed.
Didn't look back, hurried straight to the parking lot.
Damn... that was a real cursed object.
What if I didn't have my ability?
Might've thought it was just an old folk doll and bought it.
And ended up like those people...
My body shuddered.
My ability had saved me today.
I climbed into the truck and started the engine.
The GPS guided me toward Texas.
Heading south on Highway 165.
Even driving, those visions kept replaying.
That was seriously dangerous.
The world had way more unknowns than I realized.
Especially in places like Louisiana. Gotta be extra careful.
8 p.m.
Finally pulled into the trailer park.
As I unloaded my flea market haul from the truck, Dorothy came over.
Looked like she'd gotten off early from the diner.
“Jake! You're back?”
“Yeah, just got in.”
“Heard you hit the flea market today. Score any good stuff?”
I showed her the items from the truck bed.
The ammo box, 1920s pocket watch, Faulkner's first edition...
“Whoa, impressive. How'd you spot these?”
“Got lucky.”
Then Nancy came running out.
“Jake! Whatcha get?”
“Nothing you'd like, Nancy...”
She pouted, so I laughed and added,
“But next time we go to the toy store, you can pick anything.”
“Really? Promise?”
“Promise.”
Sam came out too.
“Jake, looks like a good haul.”
“Yeah, snagged some real gems.”
“They say Louisiana flea markets turn up real treasures sometimes.”
Sam admired the ammo box.
“Sure looks authentic at a glance. Perfect condition, too.”
“Right? Got it for just fifty bucks.”
“Fifty? Bill'd flip.”
Everyone was amazed.
“Wanna do dinner together tonight?”
Dorothy suggested.
“Was planning chicken stew.”
“Sounds great.”
“Room for me?”
Sam asked.
“Of course! Family style.”
Since we were all eating together anyway, we invited the neighbors too.
They showed up with their own dishes, happy to join.
A small, simple party unique to trailer park life.
“Whoa, what's the secret ingredient?”
I took a bite of Dorothy's chicken stew and couldn't help but exclaim.
Creamy broth, tender chicken, carrots, potatoes... basic stuff, but insanely good.
“Little biscuit mix. Thickens the gravy right up.”
Nancy chattered excitedly about her school day.
“In art today, I drew a picture and teacher said it was the best!”
“No way. What'd you draw?”
“Our family! Mom, you, Grandpa Sam, and Granny Margaret!”
Everyone burst out laughing.
Home sweet home.
It was one of those evenings that made you say it without thinking.
Lying in bed, staring at the ceiling.
What a close call today.
That voodoo doll...
What if I'd bought it on impulse?
Chills just thinking about it.
My ability wasn't all blessings.
But it let me dodge danger like today.
Gotta be more careful from now on.
No touching unknown objects recklessly.
Especially religious or occult stuff. Never.
Use this power wisely.
No greed. Stay cautious.
Tomorrow's Sunday.
No plans, so rest up and prep for next Sunday's storage auction.
Marcus recommended it... bound to have good stuff.
But no overreaching.
Slow and steady.
That was today's lesson.
Should show today's buys to Bill.
The ammo box especially ought to fetch a high price.
The ability to spot real from fake...
That alone should be enough for success.
No need to mess with risky stuff.