Michael finished his skewer and tossed the stick away.
The city felt overwhelmingly busy to him. A long narrow street stretched ahead, shops lining both sides. Houses made of wood and stone hung with colorful cloth, children ran through the street, and a beggar sat to one side with an outstretched hand. Shouts, bargaining, clanging metal—the mixture formed a kind of chaotic symphony.
[Host.]
Then Sista's voice echoed inside his head.
[You're still completely unfamiliar with this city. You need information if you want to do business here. And first of all, you need local clothing.]
Michael nodded silently. She was right. Everyone was staring at him with curious eyes. As long as he looked different, he would remain a target.
Hmm, is there any clothing shop around here?
Sista then gave him some tips.
[Host, city markets are usually divided into sections. Since food is sold here, clothing, weapons, and metal goods will be in separate blocks. Analyzing the data from your eyes—I'd say cross that narrow alley to the right. There's a high chance you'll find the clothing market there.]
Michael stopped walking. Indeed, a narrow alley could be seen to his right. He hesitated for a moment, then stepped forward.
At the alley's entrance, a weary woman clutched a basket wrapped in ragged cloth. Wilted greens and spoiled vegetables filled it—market scraps no one else wanted.
Beside her, Michael also noticed several beggars. They were of different ages—an old hunchback, a blind teenager, and a woman with a crying baby in her arms, probably from hunger. All of them stared at him in the same way, as if this strange man might help them.
Michael hardened his expression and strode past.
As soon as he walked a bit further in, a sharp stench hit his nose. Michael's face twisted as if something was rising up his throat. Quickly, he clamped his hand over his nose.
Garbage. Along one side of the alley, a ditch carried foul, black water, floating with rotting vegetables and dead rats. The buzzing of flies, the suffocating atmosphere. The wet ground was littered with filth.
In one corner, he saw an old man sitting on the ground—but very quickly realized he wasn't sitting. The man was openly relieving himself there.
"Shit…" Michael muttered under his breath.
Then he snapped at Sista, "You couldn't have suggested a better path than this?!"
Sista replied calmly, [This is the shortcut, Host. The sewer systems in this town aren't advanced. To avoid this, you'd have to go a long way around.]
Michael didn't argue further and wasted no time. He pressed on, quickening into a near-run until the alley spat him out the other side.
Suddenly, fresh air and open light brushed his face. He lowered his hand from his nose and drew in a deep breath. The sensation was like that of a drowning man surfacing from the depths of the sea—filling his lungs with the taste of air and light for the first time.
"Damn it, I am never entering an alley again. Ew."
On this side, the scenery was completely different. Wooden signboards hung in front of rows of shops. Some sold clothes, others iron weapons, and some displayed strange powders and herbs in colorful bottles. There was still a crowd, but not as thick as the main street's.
Michael looked around briefly, then stepped toward one of the shops without delay.
As he pushed the entrance, a small brass bell above jingled—
Ding-ding!
Inside, Michael saw a rabbit woman.
She stood barely up to his shoulder, her ears twitching as she folded a stack of linen shirts. Her fur was a soft brown, her nose pink and constantly quivering.
Michael blinked, caught off guard. She lifted her head and their eyes met. For an instant, he felt oddly flustered—something stirred inside him, unfamiliar. He cleared his throat and tried for casual:
"Uh… hi, I—"
"Wow!"
She cut him off. The woman exclaimed, her big amber eyes widening as they locked on him. She seemed even more excited to see him than he was to see her.
"Gods below," she breathed, whiskers trembling. "What in the twelve hells are you wearing?"
Michael glanced down at his jacket. "Uh. Clothes?"
She darted forward, fingers tugging at his sleeve. "This fabric—what is it?" Her nose scrunched. "And it smells… strange… there's a sweetness, like crushed flowers… but also—rot, yuck! You must've come through that disgusting alley."
Michael blinked, startled by her keen sense of smell. Reflexively, he sniffed his own clothes, wondering if he truly reeked that badly.
"But more importantly," she whispered, circling him like a hunter around prey, "are you from the Floating Cities?"
Michael blinked. "The what?"
"No, no… that can't be," she muttered, tugging at the drawstrings of his jacket. "If you were from the flying city, you wouldn't show up like this. But this stitching—so even, so perfect. Incredible." Her eyes gleamed. "I'll give you… two silver. No, wait… five silver. For the whole outfit."
Michael's brows shot up. His earlier fascination with her shattered. Five silver? What the hell is she talking about?! When did I ever say I was here to sell my clothes?! Is she insane?
[Host, it seems she wants to buy your clothes. They must be very unique in this world. You should take advantage of this opportunity. Use your skill.]
Michael pressed his lips and chuckled lightly. Deep down, Sista was right—this was a business opportunity. But if he agreed too easily, he'd surely be cheated.
He slowly shook his head.
"Five silver?" His voice carried scorn.
"You think it's worth that little? You just said yourself—you've never seen anything like this before. That means it isn't cheap."
The rabbit woman's ears pricked upright.
"Then how much do you want?"
Just then, a system notification flickered before his eyes:
[Appraisal (Basic) Activated → This set of modern clothing (jeans, sneakers, T-shirt, jacket) is old and second-hand. Estimated value: 5–8 silver. Rabbit woman's offer: 5 silver. With bargaining, the price can increase by up to 30%.]
Another shimmer appeared—
[Streetwise Instinct (F): No signs of deception or price manipulation detected.]
Michael's eyes narrowed slightly.
(Good… she's interested. Truly interested. And when desire is at play—that's when money is easiest to squeeze out.)
He smiled inwardly.
"At least ten silver."
The rabbit woman's eyes widened.
"Ten?! Are you serious?"
Michael shrugged, as if it didn't matter.
"To me, it's just clothing. But to you, it's business. These clothes are unique—you can see how comfortable and light they are. If you resell them carefully, you'll get more than ten. I don't think anyone here has ever seen clothes like this before."
The rabbit woman ground her teeth, circling him again, examining the clothes. She sniffed and ran her fingers along the stitching.
"Seven silver. Final offer."
Michael narrowed his eyes.
"Eight. And you'll throw in a full set of local clothes. Then we have a deal."
The rabbit woman stood silently for several seconds. Then she suddenly waved her hand.
"Fine! Deal. But I also want your shoes."
Michael glanced down at his sneakers. They were already six months old. He sighed.
"Done. But I also want local shoes. I don't want to walk barefoot."
"Don't worry, I have some shoes that will fit your size."
[Ding!]
A blue-hued notification panel flickered before Michael's eyes.
[Mission Update]
Mission: Sell 100 items within one week.
Time Remaining: 6 days, 21 hours, 5 minutes
[Items Sold: 4 / 100]