Scene Change: Inn
Michael unlocked the door and slipped inside.
He shut it firmly, slid the bolt into place, then lifted a chair and wedged it under the handle. Next, he took a copper coin and carefully balanced it on the top edge of the door.
[Host: Paranoia level—reasonable.]
Then he went to the window, drew the curtains, and looked toward the candle sitting on the table beside two small stones. But Michael wasn't some primitive man—he pulled out his lighter and lit the wick with a sharp flick.
[Host, would you like today's Ledger report?]
"Hmm, yes."
[Opening Ledger…]
[—DAY 1 SUMMARY—]
Sold Units: 200
Gross Revenue: 77 silver, 25 copper coins
Costs: €350 / 35 silver coins (1 silver coin = 10 euro)
Porter/Transport: 0
Bribes: 0
Net Result → Profit: 42 silver, 25 copper coins (77s 25c – 35s = +42s 25c)
Wealth (Eldravia): 92 silver, 24 copper coins
[New Customers: 37]
[Repeat Interest Flags: 12]
[Market Ring Attention: Low → Moderate]
[Mission progress: 53 / 1000 silver]
Michael exhaled slowly. "Phew, I got a profit, but still, I sold everything too cheap just to finish the mission fast. If I hadn't been able to sell the remaining canned food to that woman for one gold, I might have made a loss. But from next time onward, the price will have to be increased."
[Agreed, Host. You won't always get D-Coins, so sell your products for a high price as much as possible. People here are already showing interest in your goods—you can easily sell them for four or five times the price.]
Michael was also too confident about that. But for now, he needed some rest, and he fell asleep in no time.
Three to Four Hours Later
After resting, Michael returned to Earth—to his grandfather's house.
He reached into his Pocket Warehouse and pulled out his phone—only to find the battery completely dead.
"Ah, great. I'll need to get this charged," he muttered, glancing around the dusty old house. "And… yeah, it's definitely time to fix this place up too."
If he was going to be moving goods regularly between worlds, this house would have to become his Earth-side base—storage, restocking, maybe even a little crafting. Eventually, a legitimate business.
A secure, isolated location with no neighbors, surrounded by forest.
The perfect place to hide something extraordinary.
But first, it needed proper repairs.
After changing clothes by think mode, Michael stepped outside and asked Sista how much it would cost to fix everything.
[Host, this house has been abandoned for ten years, two months, and nineteen days. Total area: 2,160 square feet.
If you want a full renovation—roof, walls, windows, plumbing, electrical—it'll cost approximately €60,000 to €120,000.
You'll also need to clear the surrounding forest and build a perimeter wall.]
A 3D map appeared before him, showing his grandfather's house and the surrounding land, highlighted in green.
[You have a total of 30 acres of land around this house. If you want to fence the entire area, including clearing trees, leveling the ground, and labor costs, it'll take an additional €55,000 to €180,000.
Altogether, that's an estimated €150,000 to €300,000.
But keep in mind—if you hire a city construction company, costs could rise by 20–30%, since this is a rural area and transporting materials here is expensive.]
"Hmm… looks like ten to fifteen D-Coins should be enough to cover everything," Michael thought.
"Now I just need to figure out how to get it all done."
[Host, I recommend visiting Jens and Marta's place. They might be able to help.]
"Not a bad idea," he said, stretching. "And I'm starving anyway. Their food wasn't bad last time."
A short while later, Michael arrived at Jens's house.
It hadn't been hard to find—he'd asked a few locals, and everyone knew them.
Though their home was a bit away from the rest of the village, it wasn't nearly as isolated as Michael's grandfather's house.
It sat right off the stone-paved road that ran through the village and eventually met the main highway.
A two-story red-brick house with dark green wooden shutters.
The roof tiles were blackened, with patches of moss here and there.
A small porch stood at the front door; to the right, a stack of firewood, and on the left, a small car parked beside the house.
Also, right next to the house was an old linden tree that looked like it was hundreds of years old. Under the tree was a wooden bench; on the bench, you could see some names and years carved with a knife. The roots were sticking out of the ground, as if they were slowly moving toward the road. And behind the house, he could see a large open field—maybe that was what Jens had mentioned, although he wasn't sure. Michael paused and walked toward the door of the house. There were no walls, all open space, creating the perfect place for spending time away from the noisy city.
He knocked on the door.
It swung open a moment later, revealing someone new.
A young woman around his age—maybe a bit younger, nineteen or twenty at most.
Sharp brown eyes, short black hair tied messily into a ponytail.
She wore a casual hoodie with Berlin National University (BNU) printed across the front in bold blue letters.
She looked him over with clear suspicion.
"…Who are you?" she asked. "What are you doing here? I've never seen you around this area."
Michael blinked. "Uh, I'm here to see Grandma Marta and Uncle Jens."
"Grandma Marta and Uncle Jens? Who even are you? I've never seen you here," she said, narrowing her eyes as if Michael were a fraud.
Michael opened his mouth to reply, but before he could, a familiar voice called out.
"Ah, Michael!"
Jens appeared, wiping his hands on a rag as he stepped into view.
"Dad, you know him?" the girl asked, still glaring at Michael like he was some kind of scam artist.
"Yes," Jens said with a chuckle. "His name's Michael Gutmann. He lives in the old Gutmann house."
She blinked. "You mean… that house in the forest?"
Jens nodded.
"The ghost house?"
"Yep."
She turned back to Michael, eyes wide.
"Wait—you're actually living there? After that strange old man passed away, no one ever went near that place. Even still, that place creeps me out."
Michael smiled faintly. "It's peaceful."
She raised an eyebrow. "Huh. You don't look broke enough to be living there. What happened? Did they kick you out of the U.S. or something? Or maybe ICE mistook you for an illegal immigrant and shipped you back here? Keke."
Michael opened his mouth, but she was already brushing past him, popping in her earbuds and muttering something about "goblins" as she went down the porch.
"She's got the energy of a chihuahua on espresso," Michael thought.
Jens watched her go, then shook his head with a small chuckle. "Don't mind her. That's Yuna—my daughter. She's home for the semester break. Stays at the university most of the year. Studying architecture at Berlin National University."
Michael nodded. "She seems… sharp."
"Ya, she is," Jens said, then motioned. "Come on in."