I woke up staring at the rounded roof of the secret room. Turning my head toward Albert, I asked, "How long was I out?"
"Only a few minutes, give or take. Now, take a look at your hands."
I looked down and immediately noticed a new tattoo. It was a key, split between my middle and pointer fingers. Pressing the two together, nen surged into my fingers. My eyes flicked back to Albert for guidance.
"All I was told is that you need to put your fingers into a wall and twist," he said simply.
He didn't elaborate further, so I did as he said. Walking toward a wall, I pressed my fingers against it. The surface molded around them. I twisted, and a dull sound — like a bolt sliding free — echoed in my ears. Within seconds, the wall began morphing into a door identical to the one leading into this room. Before I could process what was happening, the door opened.
I couldn't see inside; some kind of film blocked my vision. With no real options, I stepped through. There was none of the resistance I expected; it felt like walking through mist. It took a second to regain my bearings.
The room was styled like an old office, maybe from the 1900s, but filled with technology far beyond even the 21st century. As I admired the space, a door to the side burst open and a beautiful woman stepped into view.
"Finally… it's happening," she muttered, tears streaming down her face.
I didn't know what to do, so I just waited. It was an awkward three or four minutes before she calmed down enough to speak.
"My apologies, young master," she said, bowing slightly. "It's just been so long… I couldn't control myself. My name is Marie. I'm the manager of the Request House under Master Hitchcock's orders."
I decided to match her formality."My name is Leon, the sole heir of the Wreaths. But it seems like you already know that."
(He's not non-verbal anymore. :0)
I tried to be as polite as possible, knowing this person was clearly meant to guide me in this realm. She smiled and motioned for me to sit at the desk by the windows.
"You must be wondering where you are," she said, turning me toward the window.
"This is the Midnight Market — an interdimensional place of business. Only one person from each universe is chosen for one purpose: to buy and sell on the Market."
(It looked like the Shadows of Evil map from CoD: Zombies — the same cramped, noir-style city streets, but without the giant squid.)
I stared at her, shocked by the scale of what she was describing. She continued without pause.
"You can buy anything here — materials, abilities, even people — for the right price. The currency used here only exists here, forcing everyone to contribute in some way. And no one can rob you without irreversibly damaging themselves. It's as close to a safe trading ground as you'll find."
She went on about every feature of the place, never skipping a beat when she remembered a detail. When she finally paused, I asked the question that had been sitting on my tongue.
"What exactly is the currency here?"
She showed me her wrist. A nine-digit number glowed faintly there.
"All of this is yours, young master — this building, the workers, including me. You have rightful ownership."
Her tone was sweet, joyful even. She pressed her wrist to mine, transferring the majority of the balance to me, leaving enough to keep everything running. After a few minutes of pleasantries, she gave me a tour of the establishment. It was exactly what you'd expect from a guild managing requests — a main hall, side rooms, even a bar.
The Request House had a monopoly; no one else could compete at their scale. A 2.5% commission on every request had made Hitchcock's fortune.
"We would have expanded," Marie explained, "but only those with keys can claim properties. The only reason we still have this one is that Master Hitchcock used a forbidden technique. But I doubt you're interested in the politics. Most people only care about the Market the first few times they visit."
I nodded the moment she mentioned the Market. That was all I could think about now. She chuckled at my enthusiasm and led me out a side door.
The street outside was the most cramped, chaotic thoroughfare I had ever seen — yet every building was grand in its own way. Every major store in the realm lined the street, each specializing in its own wares except for the sprawling auction houses. A particular sign caught my eye — a shop dealing in "species."
"Just like Hitchcock," Marie murmured, "you have a flair for ruling."
She took my hand and guided me inside. The shop front was strangely empty, lined with borderline BDSM items and odd knickknacks. We waited at the front counter for someone to approach.
"Welcome, sir, to Louis's Emporium — for all your slave needs. May I know what you're looking for today?"
The word slave made my stomach tighten, but I couldn't ignore the strategic value — undocumented, potentially powerful subordinates could be invaluable. I asked to see what they had in stock, and the attendant asked my price range.
"Young master," Marie whispered in my ear, "the first one is always a special occasion."
She was right. I asked what the most expensive options cost. Without hesitation, the attendant replied:
"The most expensive ones hover around five to ten million units. Would you like to browse?"
I agreed. We took an elevator up to the top floor. The doors opened into a long hallway lined with glass cells. We walked past countless faces — mostly beautiful women of various races, with the occasional man.
Nothing caught my attention — until I saw her. Golden hair, striking blue eyes, a figure that made her clothes cling as if molded to her body. There were many like that on this floor, but the nameplate under her cell froze me: Artoria Pendragon (a.k.a Saber).
"How much for her?" I asked immediately.
"Many have eyed her," the attendant said, "but none buy her after hearing the price. She costs around eleven million."
I confirmed the purchase instantly, pressing my wrist out. She completed the transaction without hesitation and guided me to a meeting room. After a few minutes, the door opened, and Artoria walked in.
"I wasn't expecting someone so young," she said, confusion in her eyes.
"Well, age doesn't mean I'm not capable," I replied. "I won't spin some grand story to woo you with power. I can promise you freedom and the ability to do as you wish — so long as you devote your body and soul to me when needed."
I sat silently, waiting for her response. After a few long minutes of contemplation, she finally spoke.
"I don't really have much of a choice, do I?"
Her voice was heavy with years — maybe decades — of captivity. I removed my shoe and sock, then held out my foot. In the most serious tone I could muster, I said:
"Then swear fealty to me now."
She knelt, took my foot in her hands, and gazed at it with hopeful eyes. Then she kissed my big toe, reverently, sealing her fate into my hands. It wasn't a physical shackle, but a knight's vow — heavier than life itself. A strange euphoria washed over me at the control, but I quickly pushed the thought aside, making a mental note to ask Marie why I resembled her previous master.
We returned to the front desk where Marie waited with a knowing smirk. Beside her were boxes of Artoria's belongings.
"Now that you've reached an agreement," the worker asked, "would you like to bind her?"
Before I could answer, Marie showed the family crest to the worker and prepared the stamp design. I almost chose an indecent placement for it out of ego but decided against it, allowing Artoria to choose.
"Um… I guess on my ankle?" she said uncertainly.
It was a discreet spot, hidden most of the time. She was taken into the back and returned shortly after, her face slightly flushed. Marie then led us to our next destination.
"This place will convert Artoria's body into one acclimated for our world, young master," she explained. "She'll have nen instead of whatever she had before, but her origin will greatly affect her nen's tendencies."
We entered a conversion store packed with pods. Artoria stepped inside one. A screen lit up, prompting me to pay by placing my arm into an opening. The machine scanned the key on my hand, registering the necessary changes. Within five minutes, she emerged — looking the same, but radiating a powerful aura. Her "operating system" had been replaced, resetting her to the beginning. But her dragon heart left her nodes wide open, flaring with a strength far beyond most beings.
"You must control your aura," I said, standing behind her and flowing my nen around hers. "You may have practically unlimited amounts of it, but if you don't suppress it, you'll be a beacon for trouble."
"Try to mimic the feeling. I can't think of another way to teach you."
She mastered it within twenty to thirty minutes — her talent obvious. With that settled, we made our last stop of the day: the Power Shop. This one was important to me since I couldn't create my own abilities (like Kastro, who ruined his future).
Inside, the building looked like a library.
"Each book contains the essence of a power and instructions on how to use it," Marie said.
I thanked her and began browsing, selecting three powers:
A Contract Spell — simple but invaluable for binding agreements.
Inscription — something like enchantments, though I wasn't sure of its full potential yet.
Biokinesis — strange but possibly fun.
All together, the cost was about 100,000 units — nothing compared to my new wealth.
With my impulse buys complete, we returned to the guild. On the way, I asked Marie about Hitchcock.
"Well," she said, "I'm not going to beat around the bush. He relished owning people. He wasn't insane — he just liked the feeling of superiority and control."
Yeah. Total wacko. Something must have happened when I absorbed his nen. Not much I could do about it now, so I gave Marie some orders to handle while I was gone.
"I'm hoping that when I come back you can have a few things ready for me. One, a way for me to access logs of all major store items — pictures, prices, descriptions. Two, get someone to review everything and make a list of items with potential. And three, hire more employees… and take a vacation."
She was surprised at my final request but agreed, making my life ten times easier. With a final goodbye, I stepped back through the interdimensional door to my house.
Credits
"Proofreader & editor: ChatGPT"