Her eyes narrowed, and she suddenly pointed at his chest. "That necklace… it must be what's suppressing your beast spirit from leaking."
"What a strange relic," she murmured, tilting her head as though seeing through it. "Who gave it to you?"
"This?" Reynor forced a grin, looking down at the trinket. "It's from my master."
"You have… a master?" Her brows arched in surprise.
Reynor quickly gestured toward a dusty portrait hanging crookedly on the wall. The painting showed a middle-aged man with stern features, a long staff in his grip. "That's my master."
She stared at the painting, then back at him. "A hunter is as a master of a beast? Did he kidnap you when you were small?"
"What? No!" Reynor waved his hands frantically. "I don't know what this beauty thinks of me, but I really am human."
Her eyes swept over him, lingering on his bare torso. "Then which race do you belong to? Your human transformation is flawless."
Reynor groaned, running a hand down his face. "Beauty, for the last time, I'm human. Body and soul. A hundred percent genuine."
She gave a small shrug, unconvinced. "Forget it, then. Keep denying if you wish."
Reynor exhaled in relief, until her next words froze him again.
"I think I'll be stay here until I recover fully."
His jaw nearly hit the floor.
"W-wait, beauty, that's not a good idea." He forced a laugh, putting on his best flattering tone. "Look around. My place is so small and shabby, it doesn't suit someone as radiant as you. You deserve a palace, not a broken room with creaky stairs."
She didn't respond, only tilted her head at him.
"And besides," Reynor added quickly, "if people see a man and woman living together under one roof… your reputation might suffer. It would be a terrible scandal for someone as beautiful as you."
Her eyes narrowed as if weighing his words. For a moment, Reynor thought she might insist.
Then, after a thoughtful pause, she gave a slow nod. "You're right. Very well, I'll find another place."
Reynor slumped back, silently thanking every god he had prayed to the night before.
Before leaving, the girl lingered at the doorway, tilting her head. "One more thing… I don't have any money."
Reynor's face darkened. Of course she doesn't.
With the slow resignation of a man parting with his soul, he reached into the pocket on his pants and pulled out the pouch he had accidentally stumbled from that hunter.
He stared at it one last time before handing it over.
She only smiled. Without another word, she slipped out the door, leaving only the faint sound of her footsteps on the old wooden stairs.
The moment the door shut, Reynor slumped against the wall and exhaled so hard his chest ached.
Finally, he could breathe again. That woman, no, that beast in human form was domineering. Had she chosen to kill him in his sleep, there was nothing he could have done but die quietly in his boxers.
He rubbed his temples, then his eyes drifted to the corner of the room.
The scraps he'd gambled his life savings on. His lips curved despite himself. "Four relics… to think my rotten luck finally paid off."
But excitement quickly gave way to suspicion. What if she was lying? Just messing with me before leaving?
He walked over to the wall and carefully plucked the rusty needle he'd been using to pin a flier.
His hand trembled slightly as he pricked his fingertip and let a drop of blood fall onto the metal.
At first, nothing happened. The needle remained dull.
Then seconds later it flickered.
A faint glow shimmered along its length. The rust flaked away like brittle skin, revealing polished steel beneath.
The needle floated gently into the air, humming as if breathing for the first time in years.
Reynor swallowed hard. "Holy crap… it's real."
His chest thumped with giddy excitement. He wanted to rush into the streets and sell it right away, but the thought quickly sobered him.
With his current strength, he'd be lucky not to get robbed before he reached the counter. And no hunter in their right mind would pay him full price, not someone like him.
"Gotta be patient," he muttered to himself, lowering the relic back onto the table.
He turned to the others. A strange lamp with cracks along its base. A small tiger sculpture no larger than his palm. And a rolled-up scroll so faded it looked ready to crumble.
One by one, he pricked his finger and dripped blood onto them.
The lamp flared faintly, casting an unnatural glow before settling back to silence.
The tiger sculpture twitched, its eyes glinting with eerie light.
The scroll shimmered, symbols flickering across its surface before fading again.
Each of them reacted. Each of them was genuine.
Reynor's whole body shook with restrained excitement.
This was no different than an ordinary man back on his old world hitting a billion-dollar lottery. Except this time, there were no taxes, no deductions, only the risk of being gutted in an alley.
He sat back heavily, clutching his sides to stop from laughing aloud. "I'm rich. I'm actually rich."