The journey to Oakhaven was a study in misery.
I was crammed under a canvas sheet that smelled like a combination of wet dog and pickled fish. The chicken crate next to me was a non-stop chorus of clucking and scratching. Every jolt of the cart sent me knocking against the barrel, and my body was screaming in protest.
But I was out. I was free.
After what felt like an eternity, the rattling of the dirt road turned into the smooth, loud clatter of cobblestone. The smell of pine and fish was replaced by sawdust, coal smoke, and the overwhelming, earthy scent of thousands of people. Oakhaven.
"Alright, girl," Hemlock's gruff voice came from the front. The cart stopped. "This is as far as I go. The apothecary is two streets east. And... be quick. I leave at sundown."
I didn't need to be told twice. I scrambled out from under the canvas, ignoring the chicken feather stuck in my crimson hair, and landed lightly on the bustling street.
"Thank you, Mr. Hemlock!" I called, already moving.
"Not my problem," he grunted, not even looking back.
I didn't go to the apothecary. I pulled the hood of my simple traveling cloak up, blending into the crowd of merchants, loggers, and travelers. My destination was in the one place that bought and sold power: the Adventurer's Guild.
Miki had called it "the only place that mattered" in Oakhaven. "The Griffin's Hoard." It was famous for its appraisers, who were rumored to be able to price anything, and its vault, which was said to rival the capital's.
I found it easily. It was a broad, imposing building of dark stone, with a massive, bronze-cast griffin head hanging over the entrance. I pushed the heavy oak doors open and was hit by a wall of sound and the smell of stale beer and roasting meat.
My `[Deceive (E-Rank)]` skill was practically buzzing. I was a seven-year-old girl in an Adventurer's Guild. This was the performance of a lifetime.
I put my head down, forced my `[AGI: 22]` body to look small and scared, and skittered over to the "Appraisals & Acquisitions" desk. A massive, bull-necked woman with a scarred face and a bored expression was stamping a stack of papers.
"We ain't buyin' cookies, kid," she grunted, not looking up.
"P-please, ma'am," I whispered, activating my "Useless Sidekick" persona. "My... my mother is very sick. My father... he passed. He left this... this thing. He said it was from his adventuring days. He said... he said it was valuable."
That got her attention. She looked up, her eyes narrowing. "Adventuring days? What, he trip on a slime?"
I carefully, "nervously," reached into my pocket. In my head, I accessed my `[Inventory]` and pulled out the `[Warden's Spear Tip (C-Rank Material)]`.
I placed it on the counter.
The thud it made was heavy. Solid.
The entire desk went silent. The bull-necked woman's bored expression vanished. She stared at the C-Rank item. It was a foot-long, wicked-looking shard of gleaming, unidentifiable black metal, still humming with a faint, cold energy.
She looked at me. She looked at the spear tip.
"...Garret!" she bellowed. "Get out here! Now!"
A small, wizened old man with a jeweler's loupe screwed into his eye socket shuffled out from a back room. "What, Helga? I'm busy..."
"Look."
Garret's eyes fell on the spear tip. His entire body went rigid. He scurried forward, pulling out a set of calipers and a strange, glowing crystal. He didn't just look at it; he inspected it, his hands trembling.
"Deep... deep-level Undead," he whispered, mostly to himself. "Pre-Imperial forging. That's... that's not possible. The magic signature is... C-Rank. A high C-Rank."
He looked at me, his eyes wide. "Where... child... where did you get this?"
`[Deceive (E-Rank)]` time. I forced tears into my eyes. "It... it was in my father's old chest. Please, sir, we just need money for medicine... is it... is it worth anything?"
Helga and Garret exchanged a long look.
"Right," Helga said, her voice all business. "This... is a rare material. Very. Our starting offer is five hundred gold pieces."
I almost choked. Five hundred. That was a fortune. But Miki had always said a C-Rank boss-drop material was worth at least five thousand to the right buyer, and this was `[The Griffin's Hoard]`. They were lowballing me.
Time for a gamble.
"Oh," I said, my voice tiny. I "accidentally" let a single tear roll down my cheek. "F-five hundred? But... but Father's journal said... he said a 'Mr. Viktor' in the capital would offer ten thousand for it... but he said the Hoard was more honest. I guess... I guess he was wrong. I'm sorry to bother you..."
I made a show of reaching for the spear tip, as if to take it back.
"WAIT!" Garret yelped, his hand shooting out to cover the item.
Helga shot him a murderous look before turning back to me, her face a mask of fake sympathy. "Mr. Viktor, you say? That old vulture? He... he must have been a very good friend of your father's. Ten thousand is... a steep price. A collector's price."
"He... he said it was a family heirloom," I lied, piling it on thick.
Helga and Garret had another silent, frantic conversation with just their eyes. They thought they were stealing a one-of-a-kind artifact from their biggest rival. They had no idea I'd just yanked it out of a pocket dimension two days ago.
"Garret," Helga said, not taking her eyes off me. "Go to the vault. Sub-level three. Authorize the 'Special Acquisition' fund."
Garret nodded and scurried away.
"We... will match the ten thousand," Helga said, the words sounding like they pained her. "To honor your father's... 'friendship'... with Mr. Viktor. And because The Griffin's Hoard is honest."
`[Skill: [Deceive (E-Rank)] has gained 100 EXP!]`
`[LEVEL UP! [Deceive] is now D-Rank!]`
I almost grinned. Instead, I burst into "grateful" sobs. "Oh, thank you, ma'am! Thank you!"
Five minutes later, I walked out of The Griffin's Hoard with my satchel, my `[Inventory], weighing ten thousand gold pieces more than when I'd walked in.
I was, by the standards of this broke-ass barony, unfathomably rich.
***
My next stop was Grandpa Toma's Forge the finest weapon shop in Oakhaven.
My first purchase was the decoy. I walked in, found the cheapest, plainest `[Iron Rapier (D-Rank)]` they had, paid the three silver coins, and had the shopkeeper wrap it in a long, oiled-cloth bundle. This was the "plausible" sword I would show my family.
Then, I went to the real section. The "Masterwork" wall.
And I saw it.
It was gorgeous. It was the exact rapier from the image that had become my new face in this world. The hilt was a complex, beautiful basket of silver, engraved with a rose, just like my pauldron from the dungeon. A single, gleaming blue sapphire was set into the pommel. The blade itself was thin, light, and shimmered with a faint, magical aura.
`[ITEM: The Silverwind Rapier (B-Rank)]`
> Damage: 50-70 (Piercing)
> Special Effect: [Quickstep] mana cost -50%. +10 AGI.
My breath caught. It was perfect. It was my sword.
I reached out, my fingers trembling slightly.
Thwack.
Another hand, this one covered in a fine, black-leather glove, landed on the hilt at the exact same second as mine.
I looked up. He was a boy, maybe nine years old, a full two years older than my current body. He was wearing a deep, charcoal-grey traveling cloak, its hood pulled up, shadowing most of his features. All I could see was a sharp, aristocratic chin and a tuft of jet-black hair.
"I touched it first," he said, his voice a cold, arrogant clip.
"I believe our hands landed at the same time," I said, not letting go.
"I am Stefan Emilian de Astoria," he hissed, as if the name itself should make me burst into flames. "And I will have this sword. Now, remove your hand, girl."
`[TARGET IDENTIFIED]`
> Name: Stefan Emilian de Astoria (Third Prince) - Lv. 10
> Title: The Tower's Prodigy
> (Heroine Love Interest #3)
Oh, hell no.
Miki had hated this guy. Alistair. The third prince. A "genius" magic prodigy from the Elusian Royal Academy's magic division, who was also a master swordsman. He was cold, arrogant, and treated everyone like they were dirt beneath his boots.
And he was not getting my sword.
When he'd announced his name, he'd tilted his head, and the shadow shifted. I saw his eyes. They were a sharp, brilliant, violet color, glittering with arrogance and impatience.
"I'm sorry, my lord," I said, activating my new `[Deceive]` at full power. I sank into a pathetic, "Useless Sidekick" curtsy. I let go of the hilt. "My apologies. Of course, it is yours."
He smirked, a flash of white teeth in the shadow of his hood. "Hmph. As it should be. You have some manners, at least."
He wrapped his gloved hand around the beautiful hilt, pulling it from the rack to admire it.
"But... oh dear!" I gasped, my eyes wide with "horror."
Stefan paused, annoyed. "What is it now?"
I pointed at his immaculate, expensive black-leather boots. "My lord! You... you've stepped in something! Something... awful."
He froze. The one thing Miki had said about this guy? He was a pathological neat-freak.
"What?!" he yelped, his arrogant composure shattering. He instantly looked down, lifting his foot to inspect the sole. "Where?! I don't see anything! Is it..."
SWIPE.
While he was panicked and distracted, I snatched the `[Silverwind Rapier]` from his loosened grip.
"This one, please!" I said, my voice bright and clear, as I slapped a very heavy bag of gold onto the counter. "I'll take it!"
The shopkeeper, who had been watching with mild amusement, saw the bag. His eyes nearly bugged out. "S-Sold! To the little lady!"
Stefan looked up. He saw the empty space where the sword had been. He saw me holding it. He saw the nothingness on the bottom of his boot.
He understood.
His face, which had been pale and aristocratic, went a deep, furious, blotchy red. His violet eyes, now fully visible, were wide with humiliation and pure, unadulterated rage.
"You... you tricked me!" he sputtered, his voice cracking with humiliation.
"Tricked you?" I asked, blinking innocently. "Oh, my lord, it must have been a piece of mud! It seems to have fallen off." I gave the shopkeeper a sweet smile as he handed me the sheathed weapon. "Thank you so much!"
I bowed deeply to the fuming, nine-year-old prince. "My deepest thanks for pointing out such a fine blade, Lord Astoria. You have excellent taste."
He was shaking. Literally vibrating with a rage so profound he couldn't even speak. He, a royal prodigy, had just been publicly duped, robbed, and patronized by a seven-year-old, red-haired, common-looking girl.
`[TARGET: Prince Stefan Emilian de Astoria - AFFECTION: -50 (SWORN ENEMY)]`
`[TARGET: Stefan Emilian de Astoria - TRUST: 0 (DECEIVER)]`
"I... will... remember... this," he hissed, his voice a low, dangerous promise. "I will find out who you are. And you will regret it."
I just gave him my sweetest "Useless Sidekick" smile, slipped the `[Silverwind Rapier (B-Rank)]` into my `[Inventory]`, and walked out of the shop, my cheap, cloth-wrapped decoy rapier tucked neatly under my arm.
'Perfect,' I thought, my step light.
Mission accomplished.