# 044 Money Doesn't Lie, Right?
# 044 Money Doesn't Lie, Right?
A new swordsmanship expert appeared.
As a figure of tremendous skill emerged for the first time, everyone near the arena erupted into cheers.
"The one who came up from Block A will win, right?"
"That person who came up from Block C looks serious, though."
"Block F was pretty sad. I thought my eyes were rotting."
"Still, aren't they a championship contender?"
Those who had watched the preliminaries were all busy evaluating the ones who had broken through the elimination rounds.
Evaluation was an extremely important element, since it directly influenced a person's popularity, their skill rating, and the additional entertainment they'd provide for the audience.
"So who do you think'll win?"
"Advance to the main tournament? Still, people who are at least experts will win, won't they?"
"Adventurer Rank Master or above? Nah, it's not that level. No way a Platinum's gonna take the championship."
"The Platinum might've hidden their real skill, you know. Maybe they only showed Platinum-level ability, but they're actually a Master?"
"That could be it. Ugh, I don't know. Let's just wait and see."
The spectators were waiting for nothing but the market to open.
They waited, clutching armfuls of gold coins, dreaming of a windfall.
Creeeak.
When the door opened, employees appeared one by one and took their stations at the windows.
The pale-faced vampires settled into their windows with graceful movements, ready to receive the customers, and the people checked their positions, glancing back and forth between their number tickets and the windows.
While the spectators lined up, each awaiting their turn, an imp demon who appeared to be the head of the employees seized a voice-amplification magic stone.
"Nine o'clock, the market opens. Please enter according to the number tickets distributed in advance. Anyone causing a disturbance within the premises will be ejected."
The words came from a short imp, but no one dared speak recklessly.
The skill of the imp demon in a suit was Master-rank.
He was an expert counted among the very top even among masters—he possessed the ability to be considered effectively the strongest of all imps.
When people addressed him, they called him 'Master Imp' with respect.
After all, his rank really was Master, and he was the owner of this gambling hall.
Click.
When the clock struck nine, Master Imp raised his hand high.
"Betting on the main-tournament qualifiers will now begin. Please wager on the ones you believe will win."
According to their number tickets, the spectators seated themselves at the windows.
"All in on 'Black Blue'!"
"100 gold on 'The End of Humanity'."
"The, the dark elf swordsman, right? I'll put 1,000 gold on that fellow."
They started betting immediately, so they couldn't know any real-time data like odds or related information, but they wagered with the experience of those who had watched the preliminaries and the hearts of beasts.
Trusting only their gut instincts, utterly convinced that the one they backed would win.
"Oh, it's coming up in real time..."
As the employees entered the wagers one after another, real-time odds began appearing on the broad magic-stone screen hanging in the center of the gambling hall.
1. .... 1.13
2. .... 1.32
3. ....
...
8. .... 8.92
"Whoa, 8th-seed odds are insane."
892% odds.
Put in 100 gold, and you'd get 892 gold.
But that was only—and purely—if the person corresponding to number 8 actually 'won'.
"Number 8, it's definitely that woman, right?"
"Vorpal Rabbit, of course. She showed strength in the preliminaries, sure, but that's the same for the people from every other block. The story is, she just got charmed by her tits and self-destructed."
The entity presumed to be number 8, the bunny-girl cosplayer, was the person furthest from winning the championship.
There were various reasons, but the biggest one was definitely that she shied away from 'killing'.
"To win the championship, you'd have to kill at least one person, and that woman, from what I saw, looked like the sort who's never killed anyone in her life."
"When the main-tournament bracket comes out, I bet some vampire called... Pussy Pounder or whatever is gonna find her quarterfinal opponent and make a deal. Slip 'em a little backhander—don't kill her, just strip her as much as you want."
"Yeah? Heh-heh, maybe they'll poke around inside with a different sword, you know? If you're picking the number one most likely to get taken in the lewdest way, it's absolutely her. Khu-heut."
Amidst mockery and contempt aimed at Vorpal Rabbit, people began one by one to throw their support behind the championship contenders they believed in.
Because that's how you made money.
"Yolo bet, let's gooooo!!"
Occasionally.
There were those who bet their entire fortunes on the highest odds, aiming for a reversal of life, but no matter how much of their fortunes they threw down, the 8th seed couldn't become the 7th seed.
"Still, throwing it on a championship contender's the safe bet."
"You think a favorite's a favorite for nothing? An upset's a real life reversal."
"You mother... keuk-keuk, if this gets cleaned out, I'm personally going to stick the bastard who lost."
Most bet on the safe candidates.
But sometimes, a mad presence appeared that flipped the entire board.
"Mm, the smell of gold. Human desires are running rampant, I see."
"Y-you are...?"
"Oned Bourbon Jirfangfar III!!"
Every gaze in the hall converged on a single spot.
There, a vampire with white fangs exposed was smirking, holding a number ticket.
"Excuse me, Your Eminence Jirfangfar III."
Master Imp, who had been standing still, moved as though by teleportation.
As Master Imp—who maintained an unshakable posture no matter who arrived—moved, a murmuring began to ripple through the crowd.
"What business brings you here...?"
"To bet, of course. I shall stake money on the championship contender and win a great deal of money. Is there any purpose here other than that?"
"However..."
Master Imp checked the odds and lowered his voice.
"Depending on the circumstances, you could lose money."
"That's exactly why it's fun."
Thud, thud.
When his turn happened to arrive, the vampire strode confidently up to the employee and used magic.
"100,000 gold. On this person."
"!!"
100,000 gold, conjured through magic.
The precisely trimmed gold bars were enough to make even Master Imp's eyes widen in shock.
"Ah, are you truly wagering 100,000 gold...?"
"Of course. Why? Is it insufficient? I produced 100,000 gold because the limit said I could wager up to 100,000 gold."
"N-no, sir. That... Master...?"
The employee, on the verge of tears, appealed for rescue.
Master Imp disappeared somewhere at light-speed, truly in the blink of an eye... and when he returned...
"Would you care for a drink?"
"Mm, very good."
In the most deferential manner, he proffered a wine glass to the vampire, and the vampire accepted it as naturally as if it were his due.
Glug-glug.
As the gambling-hall patrons stared in astonishment at Master Imp personally pouring the wine, the vampire produced yet another heap of gold out of thin air.
"I seem to have interfered with your business on my account. My apologies. Here is a modest tip."
"Modest...?"
"And also for the people here."
Snap.
The moment the vampire snapped his other hand, a single gold coin dropped into the hands of everyone in the gambling hall.
"I would be pleased if the limits were higher the next time we meet, Master."
"...I will review it favorably, Your Eminence Jirfangfar III."
Like a passing storm, the vampire vanished.
Everyone in the gambling hall clutched the gold coin that had fallen into their hands and shifted their gaze to the screen.
"...How much is all that?"
The total wagered 'amount' had swelled overwhelmingly.
The odds were still being frantically adjusted by the employees due to the sudden influx of money, but the people who had received gold coins sensed it intuitively.
"...You can only bet once."
Would they bet on the one they believed in?
Or would they join the catastrophe this crazy vampire had set in motion?
"...Fuck it, you only live once?!"
One by one.
They started to take part in the madness.
* * *
"Master, did you bet on me? The pressure is on...."
"No."
"......"
The corners of Sharia's eyes drooped.
She hadn't expected it, but once he said he'd wagered on someone else, she looked deeply disappointed.
"I lied."
"...Really?"
"Yeah. I bet on you."
"...And now suddenly I am under pressure again."
Sharia took a deep breath and swung her sword.
"Do you think I can win the championship?"
"You don't have to win. I just placed a bet with a light heart."
"How much was it?"
"100,000 gold."
"......"
Sharia's expression hardened in an instant.
She was so shaken she nearly dropped the sword she was swinging.
"M-master...? If it's that much..."
"One gold coin is a year's living expenses for a farming family of four."
I'd lived in the human world for 3,000 years, but the value of one gold coin had never strayed from that level.
"It's fine. I can produce 100,000 gold anytime. How much money have I piled up in my lair until now, anyway?"
"Won't people think it's strange, a vampire with a weird name betting 100,000 gold? Someone might definitely think you're a dragon disguised as a vampire."
"Not particularly? Right now on the continent, the number of entities who could wager 100,000 gold at a moment's notice easily exceeds several thousand. They might think I'm a dragon, but they won't think it's me."
"Why is that?"
"It's a bit awkward to say this in front of you, but there's this image of me that people hold."
Unlike the image I showed Sharia, my public image was saturated with all kinds of malice and controversy.
"Suppose Rapehal the Rape Dragon were here. Virgins would have started disappearing at once. He would grab and rape anyone he found, wouldn't he?"
"Master, did you actually go around doing that in the past?"
"No. It's slander. Slander."
I did not violate just anyone.
"I only violate people who enter my lair."
"Um... that's..."
"From women who come to kill me, I simply take their first experience instead of their lives. I'm showing leniency when it wouldn't be enough to just put them on the execution block for home invasion and attempted murder, you see."
Life and chastity.
If anyone had to choose which one to lose, 99% would choose chastity.
It's statistics.
"Anyway, there's no way they'd identify me as the Rape Dragon just because I bet 100,000 gold on you. The proof of that... happens to be right over there."
Outside the lodging.
There was a woman visible through the window.
She was patrolling the midnight streets with other priests.
"That woman, she was the Saintess of the Church of the Heavenly Demon God, right?"
"Yes. Definitely Heavenly Demon Saintess Leticia..."
"If the Rape Dragon had come here, wouldn't he have targeted that woman first?"
"...That's true."
Sharia let out a hollow laugh and pointed at herself.
"So you're saying, because I'm relieving Master's sexual desires, you're not touching other women—and that becomes the element that conceals Master's identity?"
"Something like that?"
"Wow..."
Sharia smiled emptily.
"Then, as long as I am taking care of Master's cock, you will not pay attention to other women...?"
"......For now, yes."
"...For now, anyway?"
"Well, that's—"
CRASH!!
Some kind of loud commotion began echoing from outside.
"Kyaaaak...!!"
Along with the scream of Heavenly Demon Saintess, Leticia.