You know what's the most frustrating thing when playing a game?
Yep, it's when a background event pops up out of nowhere.
Even worse?
When you're just about to reach the boss room... and boom, the background event hits.
That's exactly the kind of annoying situation Allen and the others found themselves in right now.
After braving treacherous terrain and barely surviving monster-infested paths, they finally tracked down the one person who could help them unlock the map's sealed region…
And that bastard went and died on them.
What kind of garbage game is this?! One-star review. I want a refund!
Allen was on the verge of giving up, but just then, Ivan suddenly tugged on his sleeve and stopped him.
They were about to leave the smoke-covered building behind, but Ivan insisted that something wasn't right. Apparently, the guy who ran this place wasn't the type to die so easily, not according to his memory, anyway.
Sure, people say "those who live by the sword, die by the sword," but this shopkeeper was the kind of old bastard even God would find too much trouble to deal with.
Ivan's instincts were spot on. He noticed something odd, the flames were flaring wildly, but despite the heat, the building itself hadn't been reduced to cinders. The shelves and goods that should've been scorched were all perfectly intact!
Clearly, no matter how much of a jerk you are, there's always someone who can't stop thinking about you, who'd be heartbroken if you disappeared even for a second.
Unfortunately, in this case, that person wasn't a lover... but a debt collector.
After confirming the fire was some kind of illusion or trickery, our resident detective Allen stepped in. Once Annie cast a flame-protection charm on everyone, the group ignored the half-collapsed building and walked straight in.
The scene inside was... convincing. Scattered goods, half-burned shelves, bloodstains splattered everywhere, it all told the story of a brutal attack.
Of course, it was a story made for the casual bystanders outside.
"Damn, the guy really went all out. Not bad, Old Kadrov. If I didn't know better, I'd have brought a bottle of vodka to pour one out for you," Ivan muttered as he inspected the fake carnage.
"Oi, Kadrov! Cut the act! I know you're in here. Come out already! You're not fooling anyone!" Ivan finally gave up searching and just shouted.
No response. A whole cup of tea could've steeped by the time he paused again.
"Hey! You decrepit ghost! If you don't show yourself, I'm burning the rest of this place to the ground! The guy with me ain't your everyday customer, huh? Wait, what are you doing, sir?"
Allen wasn't doing anything too strange. He and Annie were crouched near the floor, holding a scorched, blackened box.
"It's exactly what you think it is, big bro," Annie said, nodding confidently as Allen pulled something out to confirm. "A box full of Dungbomb Stones!"
Without hesitation, Allen stuffed the box into his backpack.
"Look, brother! Isn't this one of the ingredients for Felix Felicis?" Annie chirped, holding up a small case like a treasure.
"Bingo." Allen casually took it and slipped it into his pocket.
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By the time Allen had tucked away the tenth box, a broken ashtray in the corner suddenly puffed out smoke, and a short, scraggly white-haired old man emerged from it.
"STOP! You thieving little rats! Robbers! Looters! Filthy freeloaders! Sewer-dwelling vermin! Bloodsucking pests! Garden gnomes! Uninvited Nifflers! Get your grubby hands off Old Kadrov's merchandise!!!"
It was impressive how he managed to rattle all that off without even stammering, and with a proper London accent, too.
Ivan started sweating. Sure, his old pal was a shameless cheat, but when push came to shove, he was reliable. Ivan really didn't want to see him end up as target practice for Allen, a man he'd mentally labeled "decisive and deadly."
But what happened next wasn't a barrage of spells.
No, what greeted Old Kadrov was something much worse, words that made him nearly cough up blood in rage.
Allen didn't take too kindly to being yelled at. His philosophy was simple: anyone who tried to kill him was fair game for elimination. And even if this situation smelled like a bait-and-switch, he still made his move.
As for a guy who only ran his mouth?
Sorry, not scary enough.
Allen put on a dead-serious face and said, "Yours? What makes you think it's yours? Does it have your name on it? Engraved with your initials? Because right now, it's in my pocket. If it's really yours, why don't you call out to it? If it answers, I'll give it back."
Annie nodded solemnly in agreement, after all, she'd picked up four of those boxes herself. Allen even promised her a scoop of Häagen-Dazs for it.
Now it was Old Kadrov's turn to sweat.
As a veteran swindler who could fake a robbery scene in under a minute, he could tell right away, these people weren't pushovers.
Even now, the sounds of spellfire and destruction echoed outside. Whoever made it inside had to be powerful, or influential.
Kadrov took one look at Allen's looting technique and immediately ruled out "influential."
Now he was stuck.
He couldn't win in a fight, and his face wasn't thick enough to bluff his way out. So what could he do?
In the end, it was Ivan who gave him an out by explaining their request: they needed help crossing the border illegally.
"Smuggling?! Do you know how dangerous that is right now? This isn't some Muggle checkpoint we're talking about! The entire border's covered in Ministry-grade barrier spells! Any wizard who triggers them will have an enforcement squad teleporting within seconds! I'm not touching that kind of business anymore!" Kadrov yelled, shaking his head like a rattle drum.
"Oh come on, Kadrov! That's not like you. Just last month you flipped a batch of restricted potion ingredients, remember?" Ivan grumbled.
"Exactly! And all the profit from that haul is now sitting in his pocket!" Kadrov shouted, pointing furiously at Allen.
"What're you looking at?! It's all mine! Listen here, if something ends up in my pocket, whether it's galleons or knuts, it takes my surname from now on!" Allen flipped him the middle finger in return.
"Nine boxes!"
"Six boxes!"
"Seven!"
"Deal!"
Ivan had no idea what was going on anymore. Wasn't Allen the one who robbed him?! Why were they negotiating like old business partners?
The two of them clasped hands with matching smirks.
"You just don't understand the true value of galleons," they scoffed at Ivan in unison.
In the end, Allen didn't return a single herb box. In fact, once he brought out the rest of his spoils, Kadrov ended up paying him over a hundred galleons. As the old man put it, "Merchandise exists to be sold. It only has value when it moves."
Allen wholeheartedly agreed.
Ivan, meanwhile, stood there completely dumbfounded…••┈┈┈┈┈༓┈┈┈┈┈•••
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