Reynor's throat bobbed as he swallowed. His eyes flicked to the stained bundle of red cloth in the corner, then back to the girl's calm, unreadable expression.
Seeing his nerves, she tilted her head, lips curving into a teasing smile. "What is it? Are you afraid I'll kill you now… just to keep your mouth shut?"
Reynor forced a laugh, raising his hands. "No, no, not that. I'm only afraid that I'll die before even getting a girlfriend."
Her eyes widened slightly, then softened with amusement.
"Tell me, beauty…" he said, feigning nonchalance though his voice wavered. "Why am I still alive? Am I supposed to be some kind of… sacrifice? Or a hostage?"
He pointed at his own chest. "Just so you know, I don't fetch much in the market. Handsome face aside, I've got no money, no fame, nothing worth ransoming. You'd be disappointed."
She giggled, the sound light yet strange in the quiet room. "You're a strange one."
Reynor smiled weakly. "Yeah, I hear that a lot."
Her gaze deepened, as though weighing him, then she asked softly, "Do you want to know why I didn't kill you?"
Reynor's smile faltered. He hesitated, then nodded slowly.
"Firstly…" she said, "I sensed a familiar spirit on you."
"…"
"Secondly," she continued, "I am not like those other mindless beasts. I'm sure you understand me."
The beasts, found in the wild were said to be largely without reason. Most were little more than beasts of destruction, purely driven by hunger and instinct to trample weak.
Yet there were rare accounts of beasts with minds as sharp as humans, sometimes sharper. Those came from special bloodlines, high-ranked beings born of dreadful power.
Reynor felt his mouth go dry. He forced a nod, trying to keep his tone light. "Ah… right. Not like the others. Makes sense."
Deep down he was cursing himself.
What kind of woman did I bring into my dump? I should stop drinking after this.
The girl's gaze drifted across the room, her eyes taking in every detail.
"You've quite the collection," she said at last, amusement lacing her voice.
Reynor followed her gaze.
By the window, half a dozen rocks of different sizes sat stacked like trophies. Wooden carvings leaned against the wall, some cracked or half-finished.
A few odd paintings were propped awkwardly in corners, and potted plants of various kinds sat near the window.
He scratched his cheek, embarrassed. "Oh, those? Just… a hobby."
A hobby, he called it, but the truth was uglier. Since coming to this world, he had wasted nearly all his funds buying scraps off merchants and wanderers, hoping one of them would turn out to be a relic, some miracle treasure, a "golden finger" that would change his life.
More often than not, they turned out to be just scraps. His pockets had bled dry for nothing, leaving him poorer by the day.
Still, he couldn't exactly admit to being a reckless gambler. So, hobby it was.
"What an odd hobby," she murmured. Her eyes slid toward the wall, where a finger-length needle had been stabbed through a faded flier. Her tone shifted. "Though, you even have cursed relics lying around."
Reynor's head turned toward the spot, his throat tightening. That needle? That useless little thing he'd used as a tack was a cursed relic?
In this world, weapons wielded by hunters were called relics, classified into three ranks: iron, silver, and gold.
Cursed relics were not a rank, they were something altogether different, a property that set a weapon apart.
Unlike ordinary relics, cursed relics were forged with strange enchantments, bound to hunters through perilous contracts. In their hands, a hunter's strength could double, or surpass even that.
But the name "cursed" was no exaggeration. These weapons carried wills of their own. A weak master risked madness, possession, or death.
And he had one just hanging on his wall like a nail.
Her lips curved, catching his expression. "Are you afraid I'll take it from you? Relax. I've no interest in these low-ranked trinkets."
Reynor exhaled in relief. If she desired anything of his, he knew he'd have no choice but to hand it over. But hearing her dismissal, his shoulders eased.
Still, his curiosity burned. He forced a smile. "So… there are other relics among my things, aren't there?"
She didn't even blink. With a small gesture, she pointed at three more of his so-called scraps.
Reynor's heart skipped. His eyes gleamed like coins under sunlight. Four…! Four cursed relics!
Even low-ranked cursed relics fetched astronomical prices, far beyond what he could ever dream of earning. Just one could let him live in luxury for years. He almost leapt up with joy.
But he caught himself. If she was casually telling him this, there had to be a reason. Nobody gave out priceless secrets for free.
"Why are you telling me this? What do you want in return?"
"Consider it payment… for stealing your energy without asking. You have nothing to give me in return."
She said it so casually, so truthfully, that he had no choice but to believe her. She could glance at junk and separate gold from dirt. Clearly, she wasn't short of wealth.
Before relief could fully settle, her tone shifted again. "But… I am curious about one thing."
Reynor forced a smile. "About what?"
Her eyes gleamed. "What are you, a beast, doing in the human world?"
"What… does this beauty mean?"
"Quit acting," she said coldly. Even if it's faint, I can feel it, a beast spirit suppressed deep within you."