Paying Off the Fine -1-
Sunny morning at the mansion. After preparing breakfast and stepping out, I found letters in the mailbox—a mailbox that had only gathered dust until now, and two of them at that.
"Oh…."
My heart fluttered as I pulled them out. Maybe love letters? I grabbed a pink envelope and a golden one. Nope, not love letters after all.
"From Hanna… and the Imperial Palace?"
A letter from the palace. Not exactly welcome news. Brushing aside my disappointment over the lack of love letters, I headed upstairs to the second floor and first tore open Hanna's.
I'm afraid the academy matter won't work out. I think the seniors can manage somehow, but the professors are putting up fierce resistance…
With apologies and a promise to try once more, that's where Hanna's letter ended.
She's already plenty grateful as it is. How much more does she plan to thank me? I should slip her a lucky find later as a gift. A single sword ought to do it… maybe snag one from Mikhail. He ends up using a holy sword in the novel anyway. Pilfering a sword or two won't cause issues. If it does, Mikhail can just grind harder for more. Not my problem. Plus, it'd make him stronger in the bargain.
I wrote a reply brimming with gratitude for Hanna, sealed it with wax.
"Chicken scratch."
"What's wrong with my handwriting?"
"It's all wobbly—hard to read."
"Can't you see it from right there?"
"I can't see shit, but your handwriting looks like crap just fine."
The young miss, perched on the bed and spying on me, spotted the writing on the stationery and started nagging. If it were her handwriting, I'd have shot back, Pfft, mind your own business, miss—but in calligraphy, she's world-class, like the top of this world's meta. Her pen turns into a keyboard, stationery into A4 paper. No arguing with that.
I'd love to ask her to ghostwrite, but privacy issues nix that idea. I'd poured my heart into it, but was it that illegible? I shot her a questioning look, and she scowled, yelling that she'd never seen such motion-sickness-inducing scrawl.
"It's not my fault. This world's letters are the problem. All twisty and weird…"
"I write fine."
"You're the weird one. My hand's innocent."
Today, Hangul felt like a distant dream. I missed those blocky letters. Ignoring her nagging, I finished sorting the letter and tore into the other one—the golden envelope stamped with the palace's red seal.
Olivia went wide-eyed. "A letter from the palace?"
"Seems like it… but what would they want with us?"
"Ball invitation?"
She snorted. If she had a beastkin tail, it'd be wagging like mad. She reached out with sparkling eyes. "Gimme!"
"No way."
"Why not?"
"You'll rip it up if it's bad news."
No response. She'd clearly planned to shred anything unpleasant. She politely clasped her hands and waited her turn. Fair enough—she had reason to assume. Just a year ago, palace ball invites arrived regularly: Empire Founding Festival, crown prince's birthday, even the third princess's. They filled the mailbox. They stopped now, but old habits lingered. I was tense too.
What if it is an invite? I pondered attendance, outfits… and what to pilfer from the imperial buffet. We couldn't refuse the emperor's summons anyway. Might as well go all-in, as the young miss taught: squeeze every drop.
Me, sipping kimchi soup dreams; her, snorting excitedly at ball visions. We locked eyes and slowly peeled the wax seal.
The stationery gleamed ethereally. We swallowed hard, anticipation thick. I unfolded it first, read, and clamped my lips shut.
"?"
"What's up?"
"…"
"You need to see this yourself."
I held it out to her, eyebrow raised—what the hell?
Fine remains unpaid.
Overdue fine: 700,000 gold
Failure to pay within the specified period (3 months from now) will result in seizure of assets under the name Olivia Desmont.
Assets subject to seizure: Hamel Mountains outskirts mansion and 73 types of precious metals.
"?!"
The young miss stared out the window in reply. She cleared her throat, ears reddening, refusing to turn back. Not a ball invite—a dunning letter. A seizure notice with red sticker threat. The room chilled. Early autumn outside, but the air felt like midwinter gale.
"Oh… didn't see this coming."
"…Me neither."
"We paid 300,000 gold, but I didn't realize this much was left…"
"…How much?"
"700,000 gold."
"Gulk…!"
She choked. She quietly shoved aside the chocolate plate on the bed—starting a fast, it seemed. I unceremoniously cleared her chocolates. No sweets if we wanna live. Newspaper-covered walls meant we had to pinch pennies for real.
700,000 gold. At 10,000 gold to 10 million won, that's about 7 billion. 'We're screwed.'
Make 7 billion in three months? Credit's trashed—no loans. I looked to her for answers, but she stared out the window like a broken nutcracker doll.
"Man, nice weather!"
Rain poured outside.
Simple, really. Earning 700,000 gold? Piece of cake. Sure, we'd scraped by forever, but as a possessor, struggling for cash felt wrong. I'd made 300,000 before—700,000 should be easy.
Steel resolve, I stood before the mansion wall. Still the massive warning scrawled there.
"Banish the wicked villainess from the village."
Last time it was "to the convent"—now straight-up village exile. The villagers' warm sentiments warmed my heart.
"Gotta flip the guard captain soon."
Thanks to these artists defacing our walls, I'd given up on the mansion's exterior. Wipe it, they redraw. Less work, more hate. Win-win. Peaceful surrender.
So, time to repurpose the wall. I grabbed a brush. Fluorescent paint, I slathered the wall.
Suddenly, a bear doll flew from above. Splat. Eye contact with the deceased plush, then the homeowner's wrath rained down.
"Hey, you bastard!! No graffiti!!"
I flashed her a small smile and plugged my ears. Got complaints? Don't rack up debts.
Scritch… stroke.
Adventuring alone can't net 700,000 in three months—especially caretaking the young miss. Most adventurers take high-pay gigs for 1-2 nights; impossible for me. Quantity over quality.
No Hanna the B-rank for high quests either—she's at the academy. My solution?
Swordsman who caught the infamous "Adventurer Hunter" seeks work. ★Anonymity Guaranteed★
1. Any job, done.
2. Any pay, accepted.
3. Lost puppies found.
4. Bounty heads taken—your request.
-Write your commission below.
No high-profit gigs? Make 'em. Best job idea ever. Only way to scrape quick cash.
Our mansion's on the bustling district's backside. Guards pass, merchants too. Normal route: 30 minutes. Alley shortcut: 10. Lots of foot traffic.
Hence, date spot for couples, unintended community board for villagers. Olivia's wall as medieval smartphone screen.
Forever in love. Lia ♥ Gerf
Should rake in decent cash. Killer resume too. Adventuring for living expenses, big jobs via wall. Debt gone quick.
Proudly admiring my work, I spotted the miss: no minimum fee listed.
"Ah…."
Delivery apps have 'em—can't skip mine.
Minimum commission fee.
10,000 gold.
Perfect.
A day later, back at the wall.
"What the…?"
I couldn't hide my shock. Someone took my half-joke seriously.
Requesting: Track escaped criminal from escort.
Reward: 300,000 gold
# +300,000 gold for live capture.
Complete within a week: +400,000 gold bonus.
A bug-like donation angel flashed in my mind.