At the mention of the words "extra pay," Elaina's broom suddenly froze mid-air.
Her body stiffened slightly.
As much as she hated to admit it… those two little words possessed an almost magical power she found hard to resist.
Still, a proud witch couldn't just cave in so easily.
So instead of turning around and agreeing on the spot, she let out a soft, deliberate cough, masking that fleeting moment of temptation.
"Ahem..."
"It's not... out of the question," she said slowly, her voice laced with deliberation and thought.
"...However..."
She stopped, casting a subtle glance toward the modest broom lying next to the dirt mound, the one the old man had left behind.
"Isn't there already a magic broom over there?"
She raised her hand and pointed toward it.
"You collected the corpse. Why not take that too, ride it, and fly off?"
Her question was part genuine curiosity, part test.
Roen followed her gaze for a moment, then sighed, an exhale filled with purely technical frustration.
"I can't use flight magic."
"My mana won't synchronize with this world's system. I don't quite understand it yet. The laws here must be different."
"So I have no idea how you people fly on those things."
He stared at the broom like it was an indecipherable relic from an alien culture.
Elaina arched an eyebrow.
Strange.
He called himself a necromancer, so he should, at the very least, understand the basics of magic, shouldn't he?
Surely he had to be a mage of some kind. She couldn't imagine someone casting necromantic spells without being one.
Still, even if he was a mage… Elaina wasn't remotely intimidated.
After all, if mages were merely people who could barely manage to use magic, often due to inherited bloodlines, then she stood far above that.
Among women, magical aptitude tended to be significantly stronger than in men. That's why women had exclusive ranks above the level of mage, like Apprentice Witch.
Apprentice Witches ranked higher than mages, but lower than full-fledged witches.
As the name implied, it was a title given only to women.
There was only one way to earn it: pass the official trials and receive the emblematic flower brooch as proof. There were no shortcuts.
Of course, the exam was brutally difficult, and many abandoned it midway.
Even so, the title of Apprentice Witch wasn't the final goal.
Once granted, it marked the beginning of a long, often grueling journey: to serve under a true witch and earn their recognition through rigorous training and dedication.
That could take a day, or ten years. Everything depended on the apprentice's efforts… and the witch's judgment.
Only after being acknowledged would a girl receive her star-shaped badge, engraved with her name, and the official title bestowed by her mentor.
And Elaina?
She was the one and only bearer of the name "Ashen Witch."
A witch, in the truest and proudest sense.
This thought gave her a small, satisfying sense of superiority as she looked at the odd man with the coffin.
They were both travelers, sure. But she could store her belongings with space magic, while he had to carry that heavy box on his back.
Even if men were usually less talented in magic, even among mages and apprentices, she'd never heard of someone being completely unable to ride a broom.
Maybe he was just absurdly unbalanced, some sort of hyper-specialist who knew only necromancy and nothing else?
That theory felt most plausible.
Necromantic magic was incredibly niche and weird.
Still, that wasn't her concern right now. She shelved the thought for later.
Whether or not he could fly, whether he was a one-trick zombie pony, that wasn't what mattered.
What truly mattered was one simple question:
How much could he pay?
Ahem… not that she was money-hungry or anything. Elaina mentally defended herself, her cheeks flushing faintly.
It was just that the noble art of travel… was expensive.
Lodging cost money. Meals cost money. Pretty clothes and charming souvenirs? Also money.
If possible, she'd love to set off with a huge pile of funds, live a carefree journey full of pastries and luxury.
All the croissants she could eat. All the rare spellbooks she could buy.
Yes. All for the sake of a richer travel experience.
It had absolutely nothing to do with liking money.
Satisfied with that noble justification, Elaina puffed out her chest, feeling perfectly virtuous again.
Under Roen's steady gaze, one with no emotional fluctuation, yet laced with a faint trace of hope, Elaina finally turned her broom in his direction.
The broom gently descended, hovering just above the grass in front of Roen.
She looked him in the eye, cleared her throat, and assumed a negotiating stance.
"So then. How much are you offering?"
Roen seemed to genuinely consider it.
He looked down at the black wrist device strapped to his arm, something that clearly didn't match the aesthetic of this world at all. It shimmered with a metallic finish and reeked of technology.
There were no buttons. No screen.
But under Roen's focused gaze, a soft, spectral-blue glow lit up the device like a miniature curtain.
Strange symbols and unfamiliar lines of code scrolled across the surface.
Elaina tilted her head slightly, visibly intrigued. She had absolutely no idea what he was doing, or what those glyphs meant.
Roen stared into the display, muttering quietly to himself:
"System prompt: No local starlink node detected. Unable to connect to transaction network. Bounty status active. Personal account frozen…"
"Tch. So you guys don't accept interstellar credit."
The display dimmed.
Roen looked up at her and asked plainly:
"How about gold?"
Elaina nodded. She didn't understand whatever weird "system" or "network" nonsense he'd just said, but gold? That she understood.
Gold coins were universal currency. Any country. Any town. No one turned them down.
Seeing her nod, Roen looked relieved.
He reached into the pocket of his black slacks.
Elaina's eyes followed the motion curiously, expecting a coin pouch, or maybe even a gold bar.
A moment later, Roen pulled something out.
He opened his palm.
Elaina's eyes locked onto his hand.
And then her entire face froze.
Sitting in the middle of his palm...
…was a tooth.
A molar, to be precise. One that gleamed with a dull golden sheen.
A gold tooth.
Roen held it out to her and said in a calm, matter-of-fact tone:
"This is all I've got. Do you want it?"
Elaina's expression...
…completely locked in place.
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200 P.S = 1 Extra Chapters
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