"Pal, this ain't worth that much, except for this antique right 'here."
The man spoke in a thick, gravelly voice, his brown beard trailing along a jawline so recessed it almost vanished into his neck.
He had one of those faces that looked like it had grown shrubs instead of hair, bushy, tangled, and absolutely unpleasant to look at for more than a few seconds.
"Are you for real right now? These items, they were brought to me by th—"
I growled, leaning forward and slamming my palms onto the old oak-wooden desk that separated the two of us from getting physically intertwined.
However, before I could finish the sentence, I froze.
I couldn't say her name. I couldn't let him know about Endorsi.
Not because of anything sentimental. No dramatic heartbreak lingering in the background.
It was simple, brutally practical survival. Over the entire neighborhood market, over every stall and back-alley shop, I still carried the identity of being Endorsi's boyfriend.
And that identity was crucial, at least for as long as it could hold.
Because the moment word got out that she and I were no longer together, I knew exactly what would happen.
The favors would stop. The easy discounts, the leniency, the whisper-level mercy people extended only because of her name, they'd disappear like morning mist.
And ultimately, nothing would tilt in my favor again.
And this thick-headed oaf standing in front of me? He was the worst possible person to slip up around.
He talked casually and carelessly, every sentence spilling out of his mouth like he'd been paid to narrate the entire neighborhood's affairs.
In a small district like ours, where everyone knew everyone and rumors traveled faster than carts on downhill roads, one wrong word from him was enough to turn my life sideways within minutes.
So I swallowed the rest of my sentence, jaw tight, and forced myself not to let even a syllable of her name slip.
"Whatchya happened to ya, nice mister? Did a snake bite ya or somethin'?"
The man taunted, leaning over the desk that barely reached the level of his ears.
His face carried that annoyingly smug expression, the kind that said he had already guessed exactly what I'd almost blurted out moments ago.
Nonetheless, I didn't entertain him.
Instead, I cut straight to the point.
"Alright. I won't critique your judgment. Pay me whatever does justice to these items."
My voice stayed flat, controlled, even as my eyes drifted over the ornaments and pieces of jewelry I'd collected.
Every single one had been pulled from some forgotten corner of the house, gathered with the desperate hope of squeezing a bit of money out of the remains of my old life.
The man grunted, then reached under the counter and pulled out a magnifying glass, seemingly from thin air.
With a practiced motion, he brought it close to his eye and began examining the items. He rotated each one between his fingers, the lens glinting as he tilted it toward the light.
But what caught my attention wasn't the magnifying glass.
It was his tongue, sticking out of the corner of his mouth in utter concentration, swaying slightly with every movement.
For reasons beyond my comprehension, the sight irritated me more than his voice ever had.
After he finished his little investigation, the man crouched behind the desk.
There was a shuffle, a soft thud of something being moved, and then he straightened again, this time holding a pouch made of rough jute. And most importantly…
It wasn't empty.
CLANG.
"Here's thirty thousand krais. This is the best I can offer to ya, kind mister."
He declared it with the triumphant pride of someone presenting a royal treasure, letting the pouch slam against the tabletop purely so the weight would speak for him.
For a moment, my expression slipped.
Thirty thousand was bad, and I knew he was scamming me the first thing in the morning.
However, at least I would be able to pay this month's rent of the mansion I was living in, and manage to put food to my table for a few more days.
And I couldn't afford to make a big deal out of it.
Not bad.
I hesitated before extending my right hand toward the pouch, fingers curling around the coarse fabric.
Krai, the currency of the Lorel Kingdom, had a very distinct heft, and this bag had a respectable pull to it.
Technically, I was gripping the pouch tightly so no one would try to snatch it from me in this miserable, rumor-saturated neighborhood.
Practically, I was restraining the overwhelming urge to punch this mossy bastard across his own counter.
I exhaled through my nose, suppressing every instinct screaming that I was being robbed blind.
"Fine," I muttered, sweeping the pouch off the counter and tucking it beneath my cloak. "Deal's done."
The moss-faced merchant grinned, revealing teeth that looked as though they'd been carved straight out of old bread.
"Pleasure doin' business with ya, kind mr. Always a pleasure, specially when folks bring in treasures like these."
He slid the ornaments and jewelry toward the crate behind him, already claiming them as his own, already forgetting my existence.
That was the thing about people like him, once the deal was sealed, you turned invisible.
I didn't linger any longer.
The wooden floor creaked as I stepped back, my boots collecting the dust that clung to every corner of the cramped shop.
The scent of old parchment, oil, and whatever the hell he ate for breakfast stuck to the air like damp cloth.
A bell chimed as I pushed open the crooked door.
Cold air rushed in. Freedom, compared to the suffocating heat inside.
I stepped out onto the cobbled street, pulling the hood lower over my face.
A pair of people glanced at me, their whispers riding the breeze.
CLATTER, SKRRCH.
A wooden cart screeched to a halt inches from my boots, the two horses snorting clouds of white breath into the cold air.
The reins snapped tight in the driver's hands.
"Oi!" the coachman barked, glaring down at me.