TRRRRRINGGGGG!
The sharp, magical chime of the silver alarm clock shattered the peaceful silence of the luxury tavern suite.
Shin'ya's eyes snapped open instantly. He lay perfectly still on the plush mattress for exactly three seconds, waiting for his brain to complete its standard post-sleep boot sequence. He checked his internal clock—forty minutes on the dot. His stamina bar was completely replenished, and for the first time since he had been dragged into this world, his muscles didn't feel like they were actively dissolving.
He sat up, tossing the heavy velvet blanket aside, and looked down at his clothes. He was still wearing the same faded, generic gray tunic and worn-out trousers he had inherited since day one.
Wait a minute, his inner voice deadpan-stated, his analytical gears clicking into place. I have ninety-eight thousand gold coins resting inside my Ketsugai's shadow storage right now. I am structurally wealthier than most low-tier visual novel barons, yet I'm still walking around looking like a broke level-one civilian who just got auto-generated by the system. If I walk into a high-level zone looking like this, some corrupt noble is going to underestimate me, trigger an unprovoked battle, and drag out the plot for another three chapters. It's time for a massive aesthetic upgrade.
Ten minutes later, Shin'ya walked into the parlor. Sera was sitting at the freshly polished table, meticulously organizing a stack of guild paperwork.
"Ah, Sir Arata! You're awake!" she cheered, instantly flashing her signature double thumbs-up. "Did the sleep cycle meet your calculated parameters?"
"It was optimal," Shin'ya said smoothly, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "Sera, grab your coat. We're going out. It's time to liquidate some capital."
Sera's eyes widened with pure, professional excitement. "Liquidate capital"?! she thought, her mind instantly conjuring images of secret underworld auctions, forbidden spellbooks, and divine-grade armaments. As expected of a mastermind! He's finally going to invest his massive wealth into world-shaking artifacts!
"Right away, Sir Arata!"
The High-Commercial District of Oakhaven was reserved exclusively for A-rank adventurers, wealthy merchant guilds, and visiting nobility. The shops here weren't made of wooden logs; they were constructed from pristine white marble and illuminated by expensive, floating mana-crystals.
Sera led Shin'ya toward a grand, three-story establishment with a gilded sign reading: The Aurelius Enchanted Atelier.
The moment the brass doors chimed open, the scent of expensive lavender and refined mana drifted through the air. Mannequins lined the walls, sporting shimmering silver chainmail, dragon-scale leather coats, and embroidered archmage robes that practically oozed magical energy.
A tall, exceedingly snobby elven shopkeeper with slicked-back hair and a gold monocle adjusted his silk cuffs, gliding toward them with a practiced, fake smile. However, the moment his eyes scanned Shin'ya—taking in the faded cotton tunic, the generic boots, and the complete lack of a visible mana signature—his smile instantly vanished, replaced by an expression of profound, aristocratic disgust.
"Welcome to the Aurelius Atelier," the elf said, his voice dripping with condescension as he looked right over Shin'ya's head to address Sera. "I assume your... young charge has lost his way? The civilian market is three blocks down, near the fish stalls. We do not stock items for the... financially restricted."
Sera's breath caught in her throat. Her protective "Hype Woman" instincts instantly flared up, and she opened her mouth to completely chew the elf out.
But Shin'ya didn't even blink. His deadpan face remained perfectly calm. Internally, his inner gamer was practically vibrating with joy.
YES! Shin'ya's inner voice roared in absolute ecstasy. The classic, cliché, arrogant shopkeeper trope! I've read about this in a hundred different light novels! He actually hit me with the 'financially restricted' line! He thinks I'm a broke NPC! This is the peak fantasy experience! I've been waiting for this my entire life!
With an utterly unbothered, stone-cold expression, Shin'ya casually reached his hand out toward the hilt of the pitch-black Ketsugai at his waist. Instantly, the dark blade responded. A tiny, silent ripple of pitch-black liquid shadow bled from his palm, and when it snapped back, a single, heavy, beautifully engraved coin rested between his fingers.
It wasn't a gold coin. It was a High-Grade Platinum Coin, glittering flawlessly under the floating mana crystals.
Clack
Shin'ya casually dropped the platinum piece onto the glass counter. The heavy metal echoed loudly through the silent boutique.
The elven shopkeeper's monocle literally popped out of his eye socket, dangling from its chain as his face turned a spectacular shade of pale white. One high-grade platinum coin was worth a hundred gold—enough to buy out half the inventory in the front room.
"I believe," Shin'ya said, his voice dropping into a low, terrifyingly calm mastermind whisper, "that my finances are thoroughly unrestricted. Now... bring me your highest-quality fabrics."
The elf practically fell over his own feet, bowing so low his nose almost touched the floorboards. "M-My deepest, most humble apologies, honored Lord! Right away! Please follow me to the VIP parlor!"
Sera stood in the background, her jaw completely unhinged, looking at Shin'ya with absolute, sparkling adoration. He didn't even get angry! He just crushed an elven noble's pride with a single hand gesture! Sir Arata is a god!
Ten minutes later, inside the plush velvet VIP room, the elf was sweating profusely as he presented his finest wares. Shin'ya, however, completely ignored the flashy dragon-scale armor and heavy gold-trimmed robes. Instead, his eyes locked onto a pitch-black, incredibly soft, matte-finished material that seemed to actively absorb the ambient light.
"Ah! That is Abyssal Silk, harvested from arachnid monsters in the deep rifts," the elf explained quickly, trying to salvage his reputation. "It is entirely weightless, highly durable, and naturally blends with ambient shadows..."
"Perfect," Shin'ya said, a small, dark smirk appearing under his hood. "I want a custom order. Listen carefully."
Shin'ya then described a design that completely rewrote the elf's traditional fantasy handbook—a look that was clean, sharp, effortlessly cool, and packed with unparalleled regressor main-character energy.
(Yes, I'm talking about Joonghyuk Yoo here.)
He commissioned a high-collared, form-fitting midnight-black inner shirt made of the Abyssal Silk, paired with sleek, durable dark trousers that tapered perfectly into high-top, reinforced leather combat boots. But the centerpiece of the entire outfit was the coat. Instead of a bulky noble cape or a generic wizard robe, he ordered a structured, mid-calf-length black combat trench coat. It featured subtle silver accents along the seams, a high, sharp collar that could partially obscure his face, and a pristine, flowing cut that would split perfectly behind him whenever he moved or used Shadow Slip.
The elf blinked, completely mesmerized by the sharp, imposing minimalism of the design. "A... a breathtaking design, my Lord! It carries an incredibly heavy, commanding presence. I will have our master tailors work through the night. It will be delivered to your tavern by tomorrow morning!"
Walking out of the atelier, Shin'ya felt like an absolute boss. The gray tunic was officially retired. He was finally getting custom-tier gamer gear that matched his mastermind aesthetic.
"Sir Arata, that design was incredible!" Sera beamed as they walked down the bustling evening street. "A garments arrayed entirely for shadow utility... your tactical foresight is truly boundless!"
"Comfort and style are the ultimate tactical advantages, Sera," Shin'ya said righteously.
But before Sera could praise him further, the ambient noise of the street suddenly shifted. Ahead of them, a massive, dense crowd of high-level adventurers, armored knights, and local citizens had completely blocked the main square. They were all gathered around the Guild's giant, magical public broadcast board, whispering in panicked, hushed tones.
Shin'ya frowned under his cowl, his anime-nerd senses instantly tingling. An emergency crowd gathering around a bulletin board? Oh no. Don't tell me...
He and Sera squeezed through the crowd until they could see the glowing crimson letters flashing at the top of the board:
[EMERGENCY IMPERIAL EDICT: THE SEVEN CALAMITY GATEWAYS ARE SHIFTING. ALL S-RANK ANOMALIES AND UNREGISTERED PRODIGIES ARE HEREBY SUMMONED TO THE CAPITAL.]
Shin'ya's deadpan face completely blanked. His inner voice let out a long, exhausted, desperate groan.
I LITERALLY JUST ORDERED NEW CLOTHES! CAN I PLEASE JUST WEAR MY DRIP FOR ONE WEEK BEFORE THE MAIN PLOT ACCELERATES AGAIN?!