"Master."
"I remember you saying our shopping time was limited?"
"Quit nagging."
Serie, still crouched in front of the vendor's stall, didn't even turn around as she replied. But even she knew her treasure-hunting time was nearly up.
To make a decision quickly, she beckoned Gut over to join her.
"Didn't you say you had some knowledge in antiques? Come take a look with me."
"...Sure."
Gut dragged out the word as he knelt beside her. His tone carried equal parts resignation... and maybe a touch of indulgence?
Well, if his beloved "Shang-Zhou-era Orden" had this quirky love for fishing treasures out of garbage piles, what else could a disciple do but support her? Worst case, they'd lose a day on their journey.
Gut took a few of the trinkets Serie had been eyeing and examined them.
As expected—he couldn't tell a damn thing.
His antique knowledge was limited to ceramics, and that too only because of scripture-copying sessions back at the monastery.
And in the world of antiques, there's no such thing as "close enough." Different eras, different categories—every piece had its own specific rules and indicators. One field didn't translate into another. It was like jumping between completely different professions.
So for these mystery items—even Serie couldn't identify them—Gut could only fall back on his [Innate Tomb-Raider's Physique] talent for insight.
What it told him: these trinkets didn't feel like recently unearthed artifacts.
He glanced at the stall owner. Shifty eyes, greasy hair, clearly unkempt and probably not from any once-noble family.
Gut made his judgment.
He gently returned each piece to its original place, dusted his hands, and prepared to convince Serie to leave.
The odds of finding real treasure in a dump like this were basically nil.
Hell, the "antiques" on this guy's table were probably bought in bulk—by weight.
But when he saw the expectation twinkling in Serie's eyes, his steps froze.
He remembered her expression the last time she realized she'd been wrong—how disappointed she looked.
...Alright.
Fake or not, let's just buy them. Call it a toy for the "kid back home."
Gut patted Serie's shoulder twice, then turned to the vendor with a look that screamed reluctant acceptance.
He pointed at the items Serie had shown interest in and said,
"Wrap them all up. Name your price."
The vendor's face lit up instantly.
He gave the items a quick once-over—worthless crap, honestly—but started calculating a ridiculously high price.
Then he saw Gut's face. Judging from his gestures and attitude... the kid knew.
The vendor hesitated. Even though the customer still wanted to buy, he dialed the price down from "daylight robbery" to "shameless but within bounds."
"Ten go—er, one gold coin?"
Gut's eyelid twitched. "You've got nerves asking that."
The vendor flinched slightly. But this was how things worked in this line of business, right? Bargaining was standard practice. Surely this guy wasn't some naïve idiot?
Nervous about losing another rare customer, the vendor gritted his teeth and offered,
"Sir, I can tell you're serious. Let's not haggle—I'll let them go for five si—"
"Deal!!"
Before he could finish, Gut slapped a single Strahl gold coin into the man's hand, leaving him completely stunned.
The vendor started to doubt himself.
Could there actually have been something real mixed in those trinkets?
No way... he bought them all by the kilo from wholesalers too stingy to even include a box. There couldn't possibly be a genuine artifact in there!
Then why would the kid—
Completely lost in thought, the vendor numbly packed the "antiques" and handed them over.
He slumped onto the ground, watching the two walk away with a complicated expression.
He'd just made a killing—so why did it feel so... hollow?
"These are fake, aren't they."
On the way back, Serie looked at the items wrapped in paper and asked calmly.
"What makes you say that, Master?"
"When we left, that vendor didn't look even remotely happy to have made a sale," Gut answered with a grin.
"Hmph."
"He looked like that because you shocked him with how dumb you were," Serie said coldly. "Also, did you notice how quickly he dropped the price? That kind of reaction means he's well aware of the true value of his goods."
"No way those were real."
"So—why?"
She stopped in front of him, blocking his path and looked him straight in the eyes.
"Why buy something you know is fake? And not just that—you even refused the discount and paid a completely inflated price?"
"Answer me."
"Because..."
Gut lowered his head a bit. "One Strahl gold coin—that's the price of something authentic."
"If I'd taken the deal at five silver, it would've made it a fake."
"I wanted you to own something real, Master. Last time you misjudged, the look on your face... I never want to see that again."
Serie stood there in silence.
After a long pause, her expression slowly returned to normal.
"So that's your reason..."
"How childish."
Her voice was cool and calm. "I thought you'd be a smarter disciple."
"Whatever. Come with me to finish buying the rest. There's not much left. Should be done before sundown."
"Okay."
Gut replied softly and followed behind her.
Are elven emotions really that dull... or am I just that much of an idiot?
The bitterness on Gut's face deepened.
But then, he caught a small movement.
Serie, who had been carrying the "antique" bag in one hand, now held it with both—cradled gently to her chest.
Even her footsteps seemed lighter than before.
"…Master, seriously…"
The bitterness melted away, and a quiet smile crept back onto Gut's face.
If you're moved, just say something. Is it really that hard…?
----------
Powerstones?
For 20 advance chapters: patreon.com/michaeltranslates