The journey to the manager's office was surprisingly brief, yet the space itself commanded attention. It was a finely decorated sanctuary of commerce, where time seemed to fold in on itself. Shelves meticulously lined the walls, laden with an eclectic array of goods – ancient artifacts whispering tales of forgotten eras nestled beside sleek, modern creations. Behind a grand desk of deep red wood sat a formidable bookshelf, its volumes hinting at untold knowledge, while a plush armchair promised comfort to its occupant. The air was thick with the scent of polished wood, old paper and something subtly metallic, the unmistakable aroma of wealth and power.
Easing himself into the luxurious plush chair, a subtle creak of leather acknowledging his weight, the manager offered a dismissive wave of his hand, signaling for Z to take a seat. His attention for now remained fixed on a stack of forms, each sheet rustling faintly as he swiftly filed and processed them with practiced efficiency. Z hesitated for a moment, observing the focused intensity of her uncle, before settling into the visitor's chair opposite him.
"You didn't need to do this personally, Uncle," Z finally broke the silence, her voice muffled slightly by whatever device she had equipped. "I would have managed on my own and I don't want you to risk your reputation or be called out for favoritism." She shifted uncomfortably, a familiar protectiveness for her kin warring with her fiercely independent spirit.
"Bah," her uncle scoffed, his pen momentarily pausing its dance across the paper. He glanced up, his eyes sharp. "That stupid woman was threatening a young merchant and trying to pressure her and dictate their actions. If it were the first incident, or even the first report of trouble then yes, I'd be stepping into dangerous territory. But there are multiple complaints on file against her. So now," he leaned back with a steely glint entering his eyes, "I can take proper, justifiable action against her as I just so happened to be there and not just hear but witness it for myself." His tone left no room for argument, a clear declaration of his authority and his unwavering commitment to justice – especially where his family was concerned.
He then fixed Z with a look of mock sternness. "And drop the hood and that ridiculous voice changer, will you? It's only the two of us here. Unless," he asked, a dramatic flourish entering his voice, "you can't trust your own damn uncle."
With a soft sigh, a sound of resignation mixed with affection, Z reached up. She pulled her hood down, releasing a cascade of long, vibrant green hair that shimmered under the office lights. A pair of delicate, pointed cat ears twitched at the sudden exposure. Next, her scarf was unwound, revealing a youthful, girlish face adorned with subtle whisker-like marks on her cheeks and a small, button nose. Her eyes, a striking, intelligent blue with cat slits, sparkled as she met her uncle's gaze, then reached to unclip a peculiar, almost ornate collar from her neck. As it came off, her true voice, soft and smooth, emerged. "There, is that better, Uncle?" she asked, crossing her arms and pouting playfully, a hint of defiance dancing in her bright eyes.
"Much better," he chuckled, his gruff demeanor melting away to reveal genuine warmth. He leaned forward, propping his elbows on the desk. "So tell me, how have you been my favorite little niece? How did this whole thing come about? And how's the family been in all the years I've been away?" His voice was upbeat, brimming with an eagerness to reconnect, to bridge the gap of time and distance.
A small, wistful smile touched Z's lips. The mention of 'family' brought a familiar pang of bittersweet memories. She began to explain everything, her soft voice weaving a tale of escape and ambition. She spoke of her family's stifling plans for her future, her desperate decision to run away and the arduous journey of working her way up from nothing to her current, hard-earned status as a licensed porcelain merchant. As she recounted her struggles, a deep frown began to etch itself onto her uncle's face, the subtle lines of pressure around his eyes a telling sign of his growing displeasure at her family's actions.
However, as she transitioned to her interactions within the new game world, describing her initially hard start but then her clever, almost audacious 'scamming' of her sponsor, John, early on, which ultimately led to her current impressive resources – resources she clearly hinted at wanting to sell – a different expression softened her uncle's features. He saw the sharp wit, the clear conscience despite her unconventional methods and the sheer drive she possessed. It warmed his heart, a quiet pride blooming within him.
"And you're sure he's the one you want to finance and be responsible for you?" her uncle asked, his brow furrowing slightly, wanting to ensure her future was in capable hands. "You both understand the risks involved and what this kind of responsibility truly means, right?"
Z rubbed the back of her head nervously, her gaze momentarily flitting away. "Yes, well, mostly yes. I did explain every important part to him, but I did kinda leave out a few small details, just to avoid pressuring him too much." A blush crept up her cheeks, betraying her slight discomfort with the omission.
Her uncle sighed, a long, weary sound, but then a small smile played on his lips. "Well, as long as you keep to the right path and don't become a true black merchant like that friend of yours, I have no complaints. Just take care and know that I will help you wherever and whenever I can. Don't be scared to come to me, okay?" He let out a huff, a mixture of exasperation and affection. "It also seems I'm going to need to have a word with the family at some point." Before Z could react, he rounded the desk, pulling her into a sudden engulfing hug. Z let out a surprised 'eep,' leaning into the embrace, a warmth spreading through her despite her momentary nervousness about her uncle's casual mention of her 'black merchant' friend.
"Now, about this loan you took to start as a merchant," he said, pulling back but keeping a hand on her shoulder, his tone stern but not unkind. "Consider it cleared. I will pay for it myself and hear no complaints about it. Consider it a gift from your favorite uncle." He then gestured to a cleared space beside the wall. "As for the goods you want to sell, unload them there and I'll begin appraising them. I'll give you a proper price for everything, but don't expect any special treatment just because you're my favorite niece." He added with a hearty laugh, which caused Z to finally break into a genuine smile and eagerly begin unpacking her backpack.
It took a little over an hour for everything to be meticulously laid out, sorted into neat piles and emptied from her sack. The office, once perfectly ordered, now held a temporary chaos of weapons, armor and various materials. Another three hours passed in a focused silence as the manager meticulously examined each item. His eyes, keen and experienced, scanned every detail, his fingers tracing patterns on blades and armor, occasionally making notes on a small pad. He finished appraising almost everything, leaving only a few perplexing items aside: several slips of paper, the iridescent eye core from an angelic creature, along with its ethereal feathers and wings and a single, ancient-looking dagger.
"Well, for all those weapons, armor and other miscellaneous materials, I can give you 7,422 coins," he announced, leaning back in his chair, a satisfied look on his face. "They're in near mint condition and most seem hardly used, a fine collection indeed and should be easily sold off to the right buyers who want cheap gear for their cannon fodder. As for these slips," he held up the pieces of paper, "they're a bit trickier. You could probably get a good price from an auction, roughly 200 tops, or I can give you 50 coins now for them all." He then picked up the eye core and the delicate feathers. "As for that core and the wings, I'll need to get a professional to examine them more thoroughly. If you want them sold now though, I can give you 3,000 for them all using my own funds but I would strongly advise against it. I feel they're worth a lot more than that, significantly so." He paused, his gaze thoughtful. "All in all, a very fine profit you have here Z. How much were you going to give your sponsor?"
"Originally, I told him 3,000 for his share," Z replied, her fingers absently tracing the edge of the desk. "But it seems I need to increase it to even things out." Her eyes then fell on the unsettling dagger that remained untouched on the desk. "Those stinking gods won't give you problems for this, though, right? Considering they've recently been looking for reasons to sink there claws into our merchant realm and he, kinda has a grudge against them and maybe them with him." she asked, a flicker of concern in her blue eyes. "Also you didn't give a price on that," she continued, pointing to the dagger. "Is it something you can't appraise?"
"Bah, those bastards!" her uncle scoffed, waving a dismissive hand. "They clearly lost these items their Chosen's had been given so even if I buy them from you and we sell them they can't bitch or moan, they lost it fair and square and with how much they possess, it wouldn't even count as a loss if it keeps them entertained. As for that," he began, his voice dropping, his eyes narrowing as he looked at the dagger with palpable unease, "that needs to go back to your sponsor and you need to pretend you never saw it. Don't even bother asking for a refund, just return it to him as soon as you see him." He pushed the dagger away from him with a visible shiver. "I don't know where he got it, but that thing is a prison of some kind. A containment for something beyond our understanding. I don't know what properties this thing truly has, but your best bet is to ignore it and pretend you never saw it while returning it back to its owner and be happy it hasn't harmed you" His voice was stern, laced with a rare, genuine fear.
"Other than that, it's all good stuff," he concluded, his mood flipping entirely as he smiled warmly. "So, what would you like to do? I don't mind rounding the final figure out to 7,500 for you, but in regards to those slips and the other items, do you want to sell them now or do you want to wait for a better opportunity?"
"I think I'll take the 7,500, Uncle," Z decided quickly, her mind already calculating future purchases. "And I'll let you sort those other items for me – the higher the price, the better! But I need to plan out my purchases now. I still have a few days before heading back, but he asked me to get various kinds of food for some reason. Possibly for himself, but I can't shake the feeling there's more to it." A thoughtful expression settled on her face, already pondering the mysteries of her sponsor's unusual request.
With a knowing nod and a slight smile, he took her license, its surface aglow with a faint, internal light. He then tapped a small, unadorned metal block against it, a soft whirring sound accompanying the almost invisible transfer of digital currency.
"The coin is transferred, then," he stated, his gaze thoughtful as he leaned back. "As for provisions, it would be a wise investment, especially for a fresh new world. Food, after all, remains a commodity of consistently high demand and perpetually limited supply in places like that for many years till they eventually die out or create some form of self-sustaining system."
He gestured vaguely towards the bustling street outside. "For your immediate needs, I suggest the Green Bean Guild. They boast an impressive variety of foodstuffs, both staple and exotic and their pricing is generally fair. However, for anything cooked or truly long-term preservation of raw ingredients, well your current storage bag won't suffice. It merely slows time you see, offering perhaps two weeks tops for fresh produce meant for quick short-term sales. What you truly need is something that stops time altogether to preserve the food stuff."
He paused, a glint entering his eyes, before rummaging in a drawer beneath the counter and pulling out a compact, obsidian-colored box. It felt surprisingly weighty. "This, my dear, is a different beast entirely. Two hundred gold, no negotiation. It offers truly vast storage capacity, capable of segregating hot and cold foods without transfer of temperature and crucially, it halts time. Completely. Not even a slight degradation."
Z's eyes, sharp and calculating even beneath her hood, narrowed. "Two hundred? I'll give you one hundred for it," she countered, her voice firm, a challenge in her tone that betrayed her budding merchant's spirit.
Her uncle let out a low chuckle, a sound like rustling dry leaves. "That's highway robbery and you know it. One hundred eighty is the absolute lowest I can go. This isn't some common item afterall."
"One hundred fifty," she fired back instantly, meeting his gaze without flinching. "And you'll throw in a few discount coupons for both the Green Bean Guild and your own Gold Dragon restaurant. A little incentive to sweeten the deal."
He considered her words, his fingers drumming a soft rhythm on the counter. The silence stretched, filled only by the distant murmur of the city. Finally, he looked back at her, a wide grin spreading across his face. "One hundred seventy and I'll add the coupons. This my dear, is genuinely the best offer you'll receive. Not merely due to the scarcity of such an item, but because I am practically giving it away already."
A small, triumphant smile touched Z's lips. "Deal," she conceded, holding out her card for the transfer. "But only because you're my uncle. Otherwise, I would have mercilessly picked apart its age, its 'pre-loved' status and countless other imperfections to drive the price down even further."
"You, my dear Z," he said, tapping her card, "unquestionably possess the heart and spirit of a true merchant. Cultivate it well." Their shared laughter echoed in the office, a warm sound that dispelled the last remnants of their playful haggling as they swiftly ironed out the final, minor details of the transaction.
It was hours later when Z finally emerged from the golden building, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows down the bustling street. Her new, time-stopping storage box felt light and secure at her side in a small pouch. She made her way towards a modest inn, her mind already buzzing with plans and possibilities for her future.
The next morning, after vivid dreams of coin piles reaching impossible heights and herself crowned the greatest Merchant Lord in history, Z set out. Her hood was pulled low, her face partially obscured by a delicate scarf, as she began her meticulous scouting through the city's myriad stores, searching for any promising deals or overlooked bargains.
"Your friend is truly... an interesting one." A soft, melodious voice, laced with an almost imperceptible hint of mischief, purred next to her, causing Z to turn. A smile hidden beneath her face covering, touched her lips as she recognized the blonde woman beside her.
"Oh? And which friend would that be Kay?" Z asked, feigning innocence, even though she knew precisely to whom Kay referred.
Kay, with a graceful movement, crossed her arms, a knowing smirk playing on her lips. "You know exactly which one I'm talking about, Z. Your dear John of course. You still helped me score some... fodder from him remember? Even if the goods were, shall we say, 'damaged' and certainly not worth anything close to the price you initially asked. But at least he was surprisingly fair when I sold him some goods yesterday."
Z's composure shattered. Her eyes, usually calm and calculating, widened in alarm. "You made a deal with him? Does he know your goods are either brazenly stolen or astronomically overpriced?" The words burst from her, practically a yell, drawing a few curious glances from passersby.
Kay giggled, a light, airy sound that grated on Z's nerves. "Calm down. And no, he doesn't know the full provenance of my wares, but what do you expect from a black merchant? Besides, it was a perfectly legitimate transaction this time! A few common metals, a portable forge that may have been freed from its old owner but filled with some high-grade fuel and I gave him a very reasonable price for all of it as opposed to the high price I ask others. But I must say, I'm quite keen on doing future business with your charming client."
"No, no, no, no!" Z retorted, her voice rising in genuine distress. She grabbed Kay by the shoulders and gave her a sharp, indignant shake. "He's mine! You will not be poaching my golden goose!"
"Calm down," Kay gently chided, carefully extracting herself from Z's grip. "We're best friends, aren't we? Just share him with me from time to time. Besides, you know I have access to certain... unique goods that you simply cannot acquire through conventional means, given my peculiar nature." She grinned, a predatory glint in her eyes, confident she had gained the upper hand.
But Z, ever the strategist, fired back, her expression hardening. "Well, I certainly can't let you trick him or bring him any harm. He's actively investing in my future after all. Any action against him would logically be considered an action against me. And you wouldn't harm your 'best friend,' would you?" Her words struck their mark. Kay paused, her wide eyes reflecting Z's challenge, before her triumphant grin slowly morphed into a thoughtful frown.
"Fine," Kay conceded at last, exhaling slowly. "I will be impeccably fair with him. But my point still stands, Z. This also means that if you yourself can't find or acquire something crucial through conventional means you both need to come to me, okay? The great black-market merchant, Kay!" She puffed out her chest proudly, striking a theatrical pose. "Now come on, I'm starving. I'll get us some breakfast and you can tell me all about your investor and, more importantly, where you acquired those two rather… unusual guards of yours." She gestured subtly towards the silent, imposing statue and the intricate clockwork figure that faithfully trailed Z's every step.