Scammer Jetoson
"Acan follows a pro-Dwarf policy. Lots of workshops, and even more Dwarves.
Especially in the magic market—there are quite a few Dwarven workshops there.
Shall we go through them one by one?"
"Let's go."
The confident princess headed toward one corner of the royal capital.
Berze quietly followed behind her.
Is she really out here looking for Logar?
Compared to her behavior before regression, it wasn't impossible.
But that didn't make her any less foolish.
She really is a crazy bitch.
Berze snorted and lost all interest.
She was interesting because she was a princess, but kidnapping her would be the worst choice.
Getting tangled with those Dwarf bastards is just trouble.
The Dwarven Kingdom itself wasn't that impressive, but their exceptional artisans—and the networks connected through them—were not to be taken lightly.
The moment you kidnapped a prince or princess, every nation directly or indirectly connected to them would rush in to help, and a flood of Artifacts would pour into the Hero Guild.
In fact, in the past, a Demon King once kidnapped the Dwarven prince and was crushed under a joint assault from the entire continent.
Since then, people generally agreed: don't mess with Dwarves.
Lost in thought, he headed toward the magic market.
True to its name as a Magic Kingdom, Acan's capital had several magic markets.
Entering the magic street, Berze concealed his presence even more thoroughly.
A place overflowing with mages looking for materials, mercenaries and merchants hoping for quick riches by supplying them. There would almost certainly be a Hero somewhere among them.
Of course, compared to the Tower of Magic, most were too weak to detect him—but still.
Berze entered a relatively quiet shop with few people. Fortunately, no Hero was present.
"Welcome!"
The scent of old wood filled the air. Mixed with the sharp smell of herbs, it was rather unpleasant.
A bubbling sound echoed somewhere. Countless glass bottles and the reagents inside them filled the shop.
Drycan root. That's the heart of a Lycanthrope. And this must be Vampire blood.
Not only reagents—there were monster by-products, spirit herbs, and odd materials.
But none of it looked very high-quality.
The root is half-broken, the heart is in pieces, and this blood—taken from the lowest Vampire possible. Barely any mana at all.
Even if this wasn't the Magic Tower, this quality was pathetic. No wonder no one was here.
"How may I help you?"
The clerk stepped closer.
"I need Senniel Powder."
"You mean for Spirit Contracts?"
"Yeah."
"You came at just the right time! We rarely get any, but a few came in recently!"
"Rare?"
"Well, Spiritists are extremely few to begin with. And considering the cost of magical reagents and mana stones needed to make Senniel Powder, plus its short shelf life—it's expensive and rarely produced."
I don't know any of that. Nor do I care.
"Right."
"And since it doesn't grant spirit affinity to someone who has none, it's only for Spiritists. As their numbers keep shrinking, what do you think happens?
Shops stop carrying it."
You're very lucky, sir.
The clerk chattered on enthusiastically.
"Had you not come to us, you'd have had to check dozens of shops!"
What a noisy bastard.
He rummaged through a display stacked with materials.
"Let's see… It should be around here somewhere…?"
He pulled out three small, dusty pouches.
"Here you are. One gold apiece."
"Expensive."
"There are so few buyers that production is tiny. Rarity raises the price. How many do you need?"
"All of them."
Since her mana was thin, the more the better. He had even subdued a Hero and made him his subordinate using that approach—this much mana consumption was nothing.
"That'll be three gold. You've made an excellent choice. Everything we carry is top-grade, you see."
It didn't look top-grade, but he didn't bother correcting him.
Buy it and leave immediately. I never know when I might run into Heroes…
He opened one pouch and checked inside—and froze.
Seeing his expression harden, the clerk laughed awkwardly.
"Is there a problem…?"
"It's purple."
"Excuse me?"
"The Senniel Powder I know is a soft green."
"Oh, that can't be right…"
The clerk hurriedly checked the pouches. He opened the second and third.
"Unless someone invented a new kind of powder while I was unaware?"
"...Would you believe me if I said yes?"
Berze quietly clenched his fist.
"I'm joking—just joking!"
"I'm so amused I want to tear your limbs off."
"Haha… quite a sense of humor, sir."
"You think I'm joking?"
The clerk had no idea death's shadow was already reaching for him.
"But you're mistaken if you think something's wrong."
"The only thing about to have something wrong is your body."
"Please, hear me out. Senniel Powder was originally green, true.
But a different color doesn't automatically mean it's defective, does it?"
"Keep babbling."
"When the sword was first invented, it was mostly just short swords and long swords. But what about now? Bastard swords, zweihänders, gladii, broadswords, rapiers—countless variants have developed, yes? I call that progress."
"So Senniel Powder turning from green to purple is 'progress,' huh…"
"Can't you feel this pure mana?"
"No."
It was so muddy he doubted it could even be used for a Spirit Contract.
"At this point, you could use it to contract with a Demon instead."
"Sir, your jokes are going a bit far. How could this rich mana possibly—"
It was rich, because Senniel Powder was made by grinding mana stones.
But considering dark magic used blood and corpses overflowing with life force, this wasn't much different.
"Well, since I like you—how about half off?"
"Can I fold your body in half?"
"A quarter…?"
"..."
"Then how about other reagents? Senniel Powder is only the most famous spirit-summoning booster—there are many others! Some even better but overshadowed by reputation!"
"You barely have any Senniel Powder, and even that's spoiled."
"Ahem…"
A cold silence spread.
"Where's the owner?"
"That would be me."
Berze debated it dozens of times.
Should I kill him?
Revealing my power in Amur is a bad idea.
Though I wouldn't need much power at all…
If a murder happens in the magic district, it'll become a huge incident.
But killing this dog doesn't count as murder, does it?
Ding-a-ling—
If a customer hadn't walked in just then, he might have gone through with it.
"Welcome!"
The clerk—no, the shop owner—greeted the newcomers, unaware he had just stepped over the threshold of death.
"Do we really need to start with such a shabby shop?"
"If he has any sense, he won't enter the Magic Tower officially. If the kingdom requests him, Acan won't refuse."
"So you think he's hiding here?"
"There's a good chance he's somewhere in the magic district. This place is only one possibility."
"Oh, a Dwarf! Our shop is very popular among Dwarves!"
Hearing the oily tone, Louise looked intrigued.
"This rundown place is famous among Dwarves?"
"Yes! While we don't deal much in metals, we carry every magic material that pairs well with metals. All of them top-grade."
"We're not here to look at goods. We're searching for someone."
"Ahh, I see. But what can I say? Whenever I can't sell something, I get this terrible disease that ruins my memory…"
"...What is this trash?"
"M-murder is forbidden in the capital!"
Louise drew her weapon.
The shop owner flinched in terror, yet still couldn't stop running his mouth.
It was like watching a stage play. Berze observed the pathetic scene silently.
"…And if you're going to threaten me, could you at least buy something first before you do?"
"…Is this bastard insane?"
"Please don't misunderstand. If you make a purchase, that means you've given me some kind of profit, so I feel like I could accept the threat with a bit more joy."
"You're a pretty funny human."
Instead of anger, Louise burst into loud laughter.
"Fine. Let's look at what you've got."
"How about this one?"
The shop owner presented the same discolored Senniel Powder that Berze had rejected.
"Hm? I've never seen this powder."
"This is a brand-new product. It's called Artsha Powder—a supplement made by mixing mana stones with various reagents."
"Aren't there tons of things like that?"
"This one is different. It converts mana into something closer to demonic energy, making it far more effective on monster or demon by-products. As Dwarven artisans, I'm sure you understand how advantageous that is."
"Not bad—if it's true. You've got the official Magic Tower certification seal, right?"
"It's a private creation, so there's no seal, but I swear it's the truth! A merchant's credibility is his life! And I run a shop in the royal capital Acan—would I lie?"
"The mana has partially degraded. So it's not a complete lie."
Louise let out a scoff.
"How much?"
"It's originally 4 gold, but I'll give it to you for 3!"
"…He's definitely a scammer. That pathetic powder for 3 gold? Even real Senniel Powder is only 50 silver."
Fifty silver?
Look at this bastard.
"Enough. We're in a hurry—I don't want to waste time over petty things."
Louise jerked her chin. Three gold coins passed from the knight escort's hand to the shop owner.
"Thank you! May blessings follow you!"
"Then let me ask. Has any Dwarf entered the magic market recently? His name is Logar."
"I know most of the Dwarves in the magic market, but I've never heard the name Logar."
"If the information I paid 3 gold for is only that, I think I'll get angry."
"There's a shop next to the central plaza called Leaf of the Deer. It's the largest shop around, carrying the widest selection of goods. Anyone visiting the magic market for the first time usually stops there. They might know."
"Not bad. Let's go."
Louise sheathed her weapon again and left the shop.
"What a disgrace."
Just before leaving, her eyes had met Berze's. But she didn't recognize him.
Back then, they had fought with his transformed face between them.
"You've got quite the talent. Selling trash with zero value at an inflated price."
"Thank you, for not ruining my deal from the side. Thanks to that, it succeeded."
"It wasn't my money anyway. And you had nerves of steel—pulling that off with a sword at your throat."
"Empty barrels make the most noise. Anyone who pulls a sword just to threaten never actually swings it. At most they'll damage a bit of merchandise."
"And you charged more on top of it."
"She looked like some noble family's precious daughter. Even if not, Dwarves have plenty of money. So I figured 3 gold wouldn't be hard for her."
Berze knew nothing about commerce or merchants. But one thing was clear:
This man was extraordinary.
A born scammer.
He lied brazenly with a witness right beside him.
And Berze liked that madness.
"I'll take the remaining two Senniel Powders."
They were somewhat degraded, but still better than having none at all.
"Truly? Then for you, I'll give both for 1 gold!"
"Do I look that precious too?"
"Eh?"
The shop owner gave an awkward smile.
"...Misunderstanding, sir. I think that lady simply didn't know current prices…"
"Then my knowledge of the price is correct. Degraded powder has zero value, right?"
The shop owner's face twisted.
"Sir—no, customer—there are limits! Theft in Acan is a serious crime!"
"Didn't you say earlier that those who threaten never actually swing their swords?"
"Why are you changing the subject so suddenly?!"
"Know her? That woman is Louise Verft."
"…The Mad Dog of Verft?"
"If you'd taken one step further, your head would've flown."
"…H-Hic."
"So? Should I go tell her the truth right now? Or…"
"Take it! Just take it!"
Motherf—
The shop owner grumbled.
"Never thought I'd be the one getting scammed today…"
"There's one more thing."
"Fine! Take the liver out of a flea while you're at it!"
"This one isn't bad for you either. I want to recruit you. To the Golden Moon Merchant Guild."
"The Golden Moon Guild? You're associated with them?"
"In a manner of speaking."
"Isn't that a guild on the verge of collapse? Why would someone as talented as me go there?"
"Because otherwise Louise Verft will kill you?"
"Motherf—!"
"Joking."
"You joke like you're trying to kill a man, seriously!"
"Well, the invitation to the Golden Moon Guild is real. Someone like you would be useful."
Humans understand humans best.
And humans who scam other humans? They understand humans even better.
Berze wanted the Golden Moon Merchant Guild to fill their pockets by scamming people.
Thud.
A pouch dropped in front of the shop owner.
"What is this?"
"Down payment. And salary. You'll get much more once you join the Golden Moon Guild."
"…1 gold?"
A salary of 1 gold?
The shop owner's eyes filled with greed.
"Depending on your results, you'll receive further compensation."
"…I'll go!"
"Good choice. If you go to the Golden Moon Guild, just say you came down from the mountain."
"What does that mean?"
"Just remember it."
"Yes, sir."
"Oh, and to get proper Senniel Powder, I should go where you mentioned earlier?"
"Of course. Leaf of the Deer has everything!"
"Right—what's your name?"
"Jetoson!"
Berze left the shop.
Hehehe.
Left alone, Jetoson stroked the gold coin with a satisfied smile.
"He tossed out one gold like it was nothing… he must be loaded…"
He took out some salt and sprinkled it toward the door.
"Why would I go there anyway?"
Why walk into suffering that was clearly waiting?
To him, Berze was the definition of a vicious employer.
"That bastard who eats merchants alive. Go outside and get scammed hard, you jerk."
Jetoson dumped the entire container of salt.
"Shoo, shoo. Begone, begone. Don't come back, either of you."
He did not know—
"…."
—that the customer he thought had left was still there, hiding his presence and watching through the window.
Berze silently headed toward Leaf of the Deer.
He approached Louise, who was questioning another clerk.
"Hey."
"What?"
"That powder earlier—the truth is, it wasn't some special newly developed product. It was just old, degraded Senniel Powder. You got ripped off."
"…What?"
Louise's face crumpled instantly.
"If you ask the merchants here to appraise it, you'll see I'm not lying."
"…That little shit."
Back in his shop, Jetoson suddenly shivered and rubbed his goosebumps.
"…Why did it suddenly get cold?"
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