"By the way, Emilia, are there any high-grade magic crystals left in the mansion?"
Grin set his spoon down, his hand naturally coming to rest on Beatrice's waist. Across the table, Emilia tapped her cheek thoughtfully, her brow furrowing in concentration.
"I believe Roswaal has one more," she replied. "But it's full of impurities. It isn't stable enough for direct use."
Grin's shoulders slumped slightly. He had hoped for a suitable crystal to act as a "power bank" for Beatrice. Since her mana source had shifted from the library to his own soul, the constant drain of maintaining her existence was becoming a heavy burden. A high-grade crystal would have significantly lightened the load.
Beatrice seemed to sense his frustration. She patted his hand with a reassuring, albeit haughty, flourish. "Do not fret, Grin. If Betty modifies it, even an inferior stone can be made useful, I suppose."
"Is that so? As expected of my Betty," Grin said, leaning down to affectionately nuzzle her hair.
"Oh, honestly! You idiot! You're turning Betty's hair into a ball of fluff!" she shouted, though she made no effort to push him away.
Thump.
The lighthearted atmosphere was shattered as a gray pigeon collided heavily with the restaurant window. Ram's expression shifted instantly. She moved with practiced grace, opening the window and catching the stunned bird before it could slide off the ledge.
"There is something tied to its leg," Ram noted, her voice sharp. She untied a small scrap of parchment from the pigeon's claw.
Grin stood up, his eyes alert. "What is it? A challenge from one of the other factions?"
Ram scanned the note, a mocking smile slowly spreading across her face. "Not quite. This is for you, Grin."
"For me? It isn't a love letter, is it?"
Grin took the note, his confusion deepening when he saw the signature at the bottom: Otto Suwen.
"I have a bad feeling about this..."
He began to read aloud, his voice dropping as the scale of Otto's madness became clear.
Grin, my dear friend,
We're rich! Hahaha!
After returning to the capital, I investigated the markets just as you suggested. Someone is indeed buying up war supplies on a massive scale. I decided to gamble everything. I haven't repaid the loan yet; I've used all the funds for the business!
We had four hundred gold coins, but that was a drop in the ocean until I found the 'High-Grade Healing Potions.' There's no stock because of the lack of recent conflict. One ingredient is Requiem Grass. And guess what? The premium Earth Dragon feed in the capital is packed with it!
I've rented three warehouses and bought up a quarter of the capital's fodder inventory. I'm screening out the Requiem Grass now. Once the market is depleted, I'll name my price!
Bad news: a greedy nobleman has noticed. I've bought us a week. To save our property, get to the capital within seven days!
Your dearest friend—Otto Suwen.
Grin crumpled the note into a ball, sprawling back onto his chair. "That bastard..."
"Your friend is even more troublesome than you are," Ram remarked, having read over his shoulder.
Thanks to Grin's foresight regarding the coming conflict, Otto had cornered a vital market. While ordinary dragons ate inferior hay, the noble mounts required the high-grade feed Otto now hoarded.
"He only had four hundred gold coins," Grin muttered. "How did he cause such a commotion?"
"You underestimate the purchasing power of four million Holy Coins," Ram countered. "According to this, he has enough fodder to fill three major warehouses. He has effectively strangled the noble logistics of the capital."
Grin nodded. He couldn't leave Otto to face a noble's wrath alone. "Emilia, can we leave earlier?"
Emilia sat up straight, seeing the genuine worry in his eyes. "Of course. We shouldn't stand by while your friends are in trouble."
"Wait," Ram interrupted. "The route we chose is a branch of Flügel Avenue. It is currently shrouded in fog. Lord Roswaal calculated the departure time specifically for when the visibility would be safe."
Grin's expression grew grave. Roswaal's "calculations" undoubtedly came from his Book of Wisdom. If the book warned against leaving now, it likely meant the White Whale was active in the area.
"Don't worry, Grin," Ram added, beginning to clear the table. "With the Royal Selection looming, no noble will dare to cause a public scandal. You have the week Otto bought you. That is plenty of time to punch those greedy fools in the face."
Grin exhaled, his mood finally steadying. "You're right. Emilia's safety comes first. We stick to the plan."
Late that night.
The evening breeze, scented with the courtyard's blossoms, slipped through the half-open window of Grin's room. He shivered in his sleep, instinctively reaching for the covers. "So cold..."
However, with a Great Spirit now sharing his bed, the blanket was a contested resource. Beatrice had claimed that after centuries in the library, she would never sleep alone again. She had effectively become Grin's permanent body pillow.
Beatrice, a light sleeper, stirred as Grin groped blindly for the covers. She looked at his furrowed brow and gave a small, tired smile. "That unguarded face is the only thing reassuring about you, I suppose."
"Where is my blanket...?" Grin mumbled, his eyes still closed.
"Betty is here! I simply cannot do anything with you," she whispered, snuggling into his side.
Grin ignored the sentiment. He grabbed the edge of the blanket with both hands and performed a violent death-roll, wrapping himself into a tight cocoon and leaving Beatrice shivering in the night air.
Beatrice froze, her eyes widening in disbelief. Then, her anger flared. "Hateful...!"
She ground her teeth together, preparing to strike him, when she noticed his face turning pale. Grin was breaking into a cold sweat, his breath coming in jagged hitches.
"Wait... listen to me..." Grin mumbled. "I'm innocent! I didn't molest any virgins! She's four hundred years old... she's an adult..."
His voice rose into a panicked sleep-talk. "Fine! If that's the case... I request the smallest caliber bullets! Hahahaha! You think you can kill me by kicking through the water? Not that easy! Yaha—!"
"Ah!"
Grin screamed and sat up abruptly, his lungs burning as he gasped for air. He had just dreamt of a bizarre execution where he tried to flee across a lake only to be targeted by a rocket launcher.
Beatrice immediately moved, wrapping her arms around his head and pulling him against her chest. She gently stroked his hair. "Yoshi, yoshi... the nightmares are gone. Do not be afraid, Grin."
The pressure of the dream vanished as Grin leaned into her warmth. He could feel the soft fabric of her nightgown and the gentle heat of her skin. The adrenaline faded, replaced by a wicked, tired chuckle.
"Heh... I'd accept being killed by a nuclear bomb right now if this is the afterlife."
"Behave yourself," Beatrice whispered, her ears turning a bright crimson as she pressed his head down firmly. "Do you truly enjoy clinging to Betty that much, I suppose?"