— — — — — —
"Zekua Melon?!"
Lucy's eyes widened the moment she saw the name stamped across the book's cover. "That's the Kemu Zaleon himself?!" she blurted.
The author listed was none other than the legendary writer Zekua Melon, who wrote under the pen name Kemu Zaleon—and this wasn't just an ordinary book. It was a magic-imbued manuscript.
Crafting a book using magic? Completely unexpected… yet strangely perfect for a literary genius of his level.
As they watched, the letters that formed the title DAYBREAK began to shimmer, twisting and realigning on the cover until a new title emerged: DEAR KABY
The client—Kaby Melon—stared at the title, and his eyes filled with tears. Within moments, he was openly sobbing, shaking as his wife tried helplessly to comfort him.
"I always thought this was my father's worst work," Kaby said between sobs. "I wanted to destroy it to protect his reputation. I thought it was a disgrace that tainted his legacy."
"But now I see it… this was actually his masterpiece. The best thing he ever wrote."
"All these years, I misunderstood him completely. Even at the end, he never abandoned his pride as a writer—never betrayed his principles."
"I've been so wrong… for so long."
Kaby's voice trembled as he cried harder. He remembered the angry words he'd once shouted at his father—accusing him of selling out, of writing trash for money, of abandoning his family and dignity.
But now, he finally understood. His father had carried more pain than he'd ever realized, and had never spoken a word about it.
"Kazuma-san, thank you. If not for you, I never would have discovered the truth."
Kaby bowed deeply, his eyes still red with tears.
"Then thank me with my payment," Kazuma said flatly. He'd seen the anime—he knew exactly how this was supposed to play out.
But there was no way in hell he was walking away without getting paid.
Unlike that idiot Natsu, he had no intention of leaving without collecting what he was owed.
It might look noble in the anime, but in real life? That was just stupid. It wasn't just for him; it was for the whole guild.
...
Hearing Kazuma's cold words, Kaby panicked.
"I—I'll pay you, of course," Kaby stammered. "Here's five hundred thousand jewel in cash, plus some valuables as collateral. I'll sell off some property soon and pay the remaining one million jewel, I promise."
He sounded sincere, but also desperate.
"So right now, you can't actually pay me in full," Kazuma said, tone still calm. "Then hand the book back. When you've got the full amount, I'll return it."
Kaby froze. "Please… please, give me a little more time. I swear I'll pay you. I'm not trying to cheat you, I promise!"
He clutched the book tightly to his chest and dropped to his knees.
"Please, just trust us!" his wife begged, kneeling beside him. "We'll pay every jewel we owe!"
"Kazuma," Lucy said softly, stepping forward. "They seem sincere. Maybe you could—"
"Lucy," Kazuma interrupted, his voice cool. "If you pity them that much, pay the two million yourself. Otherwise, stay out of it."
He didn't raise his voice or sound angry, but there was no room for argument.
Money didn't matter to him—but debts did. He had his own code, and one of his rules was simple: no one walks away owing him.
People might label him a scumbag for that, but he didn't give a fuck about what anyone thought. Ironically, most of the people he treated that way had already taken to calling him things like Kazutrash, Crapuma, or Scumzuma.
… the fate of being a Kazuma was really something.
"You still want to pay, so I'm being polite," Kazuma continued. "But if you keep stalling, I'll take it as you trying to cheat me. And then you'll have two choices."
He raised his gun slowly and pressed the barrel to Kaby's forehead.
"Either pay up now… or pay with your life."
His tone didn't waver once. He wasn't threatening them—he was stating a fact.
"I… I can give you the book," Kaby said weakly, trembling.
"Here." His wife didn't hesitate. She snatched the book from his hands and handed it to Kazuma. She could tell he wasn't bluffing.
"Lucy. Let's go."
Kazuma tucked the book away and turned to leave, not even glancing back. He didn't plan to store that thing—it wasn't worth the space.
Lucy followed silently, confusion written all over her face.
Behind them, Kaby broke down again, tears falling quietly as his wife held him.
"The mage said he'd return it once we pay him," she reminded gently.
"I'm not crying because of the book," Kaby whispered hoarsely. "I'm crying because I tried to deceive him. I pretended I could pay when I couldn't. I… I've never felt more ashamed of myself."
He wasn't mourning the lost book—he was mourning his own pride. Pretending to be something he wasn't had shattered what little dignity he had left.
Outside, Lucy hadn't said a single word the whole walk.
"You think I was being heartless, don't you?" Kazuma said at last, tossing the book into her arms without even glancing at it.
"…Yeah."
She caught it hurriedly and looked down, her usual cheer gone.
She just didn't get it. Kazuma wasn't someone who cared about money. He'd once helped little Romeo fight monsters just because of a simple request—and the only "payment" he accepted was having Romeo clean his house, which he didn't even need.
So why now? Why was he suddenly acting cold and ruthless over a reward?
"Let me tell you a story," Kazuma said. "A long time ago, there was a country with a simple rule: if you helped someone in need, the government would pay you ten thousand jewel."
"One day, a man helped someone, but refused to take the money. Said he did it out of kindness, and didn't need a reward."
Lucy blinked. "So… what happened?"
"After that, no one wanted to help anyone anymore. Why do you think that is?"
"...."
Lucy thought about it seriously. "Because helping others takes time and effort—and there's always some risk," she said slowly. "If there's a reward, people weigh the cost and think, 'Yeah, it's worth it.' But once someone decides 'good deeds shouldn't be paid for,' then anyone who accepts payment looks greedy."
"So people stop helping altogether. Because giving without reward just… drains you."
Kazuma nodded faintly.
Lucy might not have been the strongest mage, but she was far from stupid. She was a merchant's daughter, after all.
People liked to joke that girls with big chests had small brains—but here, Lucy had both, and even bigger assets than most.
.
.
.