That same morning, the royal carriage dumped them beside the artisan district before midday, its wheels spraying dust across awnings. Hajin split the heavy purse from his folded recommendation and tucked the royal permit away from his own sweating fingers.
'Fifty gold rattling on my belt and nine hundred and fifty locked in a palace chest, holy shit.'
He stopped under an awning while a delivery cart rattled past, counting how many meals that belt could buy.
'Three years of stealing bread, and now I could buy the whole damn bakery.'
The glow faded when a kid by the butcher's stall started picking through scraps, right where hunger once sent him.
Money meant shelter now, real weapons, and someday a guild where he never begged anyone for a place.
'Enjoy it, sure, just don't you dare forget what an empty stomach feels like.'
Juna kept her hands buried in her pockets, ears swiveling toward the wagons as she passed every food stall blind.
