The next day.
Refreshed and invigorated, Ruboo and Madison arrived at Heather's former residence.
They had not come to pay their respects, but to use the smelting apparatus left behind by her husband to melt down the golden arm.
Following Heather's detention, the golden arm had become harmless.
No one wished to keep such a solid gold contraption; selling it for cash seemed far more sensible.
Considering the locals' deep-seated fear of the golden arm, no one dared to purchase it.
Ruboo planned to melt the golden arm back into gold bars before selling it.
Half an hour later.
The process completed, the golden arm was no more.
In its place lay three gold bars, each weighing one kilogram.
Unlike in his previous life, where war and global instability had driven the price of gold to sixty or seventy dollars per gram—more than double the rate of a decade prior—
In the era Ruboo now inhabited, gold prices remained stable at around forty dollars per gram.
By this calculation, the golden arm was worth over twelve thousand dollars.
This represented a considerable sum, explaining why Heather's husband had squandered his entire fortune and later regretted the loss, attempting to reclaim the golden arm.
Nor was it surprising that outsiders, upon hearing the news, would risk everything to steal the golden arm.
Greed destroyed them.
Even the lone survivor who journeyed all the way to New Orleans, and even transferred the golden arm to Ruboo, met a gruesome end under the curse.
In the end, it all went to Ruboo and Madison.
Clutching three gold bars, Ruboo and his companion drove to the jewellery shop in the county centre.
Though they possessed no legal documentation to prove the gold's origin, every establishment welcomed the opportunity to purchase it.
Moreover, Alpina County's policies in this regard were quite lax.
Though the price was slightly depressed, Ruboo successfully sold the gold.
Splitting the proceeds evenly with Madison, he pocketed nearly sixty thousand dollars.
For young Americans, whose finances were mostly in the red, this was an absolute fortune.
Ruboo was thoroughly satisfied.
This outing not only fulfilled the task objectives and enhanced my capabilities, but also yielded a hefty sum on the side, along with a satisfying physical reward.
An absolute winner.
For quite some time now, I've been spared the embarrassment of relying on girls' money to get by in the States.
"Ruboo, since we've finally managed to get out, why rush home? Fancy a road trip?" Madison, who'd also earned a tidy sum, looked at Ruboo with keen interest.
Ruboo froze. "A road trip?"
"Yes! Just you and me on the road." Madison leaned in close, planting a kiss on Ruboo's lips.
Having finally escaped the tedium of the witch academy and found a man who perfectly suited her body and soul, she yearned to unwind properly.
And road trips were precisely one of the most popular ways for young Americans to travel.
Driving a car with close friends, traversing endless highways, taking in the vast and magnificent natural scenery, and experiencing the diverse cultures, customs, and landscapes of each state.
This was one of the unique cultural traditions of the United States.
Spawning from this tradition are myriad eerie tales of serial killers, cults, and all manner of monstrosities lurking along highways, in conservative small towns, and within the wilderness.
Hollywood frequently produces films of this kind.
Typically, it involves a group of youngsters setting off on a road trip in a car, hearing some terrifying rumour, ignoring locals' warnings, camping out at the scene of the incident, and then meeting their maker.
Madison has starred in one.
As for why I know this.
During yesterday's intermission, the pair had discovered numerous DVDs in the house, including films of this genre starring Madison.
Ruboo naturally popped them in to watch.
This made him fight even more fiercely in the ensuing battle.
"Then let's proceed."
Ruboo pondered for a moment before nodding.
With the bloody containment mission temporarily off his plate, he fancied a proper break.
One couldn't spend every waking moment thinking about combating the supernatural.
He certainly didn't want to meet his end one day, only to look back and realise his transmigrated life had been utterly devoid of any beauty.
Luxury cars, beautiful women, the wilderness.
Combined, they would undoubtedly form a memory worth cherishing.
It would also help him blend in better as a newcomer.
Of course, it would be splendid if, along the way, he encountered cultists with genuinely eerie abilities or various legendary monsters, just like in the movies.
For such mission objectives, Ruboo naturally welcomed more the better.
"But before that, Ruboo, you'll need to buy a car," Madison reminded him.
Ruboo nodded. "Of course."
In the vast, sparsely populated United States, where public transport is infrequent and petrol is cheap, getting around without a car is impossible.
Nearly every household owned one.
Ruboo, who would inevitably be travelling all over the place, had already been thinking of buying one.
And now he found himself in possession of a substantial sum.
Thus, after driving to a rental agency that also sold vehicles and engaging in a fierce haggling session with the proprietor, Ruboo secured a well-equipped Chevrolet for twenty thousand dollars.
After returning to the county centre in his new car and completing his shopping, a cheerful Ruboo and Madison formally embarked on their road trip.
They planned to head south on Route 75 to Detroit, then west on Route 94 to Chicago, before taking a series of turns via Routes 55 and 12 to finally reach New Orleans.
Though this route wasn't as famous as Route 66, which started in Chicago, Illinois, and ended in Santa Monica and Los Angeles, California,
It is nonetheless an excellent journey.
Especially for a man and a woman travelling alone.
...
Three days later.
A dusty Chevrolet pulled into downtown New Orleans.
Inside sat Ruboo and Madison, inevitably weary after the commotion.
The journey had passed without incident.
Except for a brief taste of local culture while passing through Chicago.
At one petrol station, Madison was recognised by a group of fellow young travellers bursting with energy. They attempted to drive away his quiet Asian companion, only to be soundly beaten by the man with his 1.4-metre frame and American-style iaido skills. Beyond that, nothing else occurred.
There was no easy money to be made, as imagined.
The only exception was the sheer amount of energy expended, sleeping under the open sky.
Thus, while the Witch Academy searched for clues, they travelled at a leisurely pace, leaving behind one profound memory after another on Earth. After their bodies and minds had been cleansed by nature, the finally sated Ruboo and Madison pressed the accelerator and returned to New Orleans.
Gazing at the plaque bearing the words "Robbie Jocks Institute for Exceptional Young Ladies," Ruboo gave the car horn a sharp blast.
As ever, the gates swung open of their own accord.
New Orleans' largest paranormal gathering place once again came into view.