The streets of Veyra hit Khan like a casino floor at 3 a.m — noisy, crowded, and everyone trying to screw everyone else.
The sun sat high, turning the pale stone of the city's walls into warm honey. Hawkers shouted with enthusiasm. The smell of roasting boar and fresh bread fought a losing battle against horse piss, hot cobblestones, and the general musk of several thousand unwashed bodies moving through narrow streets lined with timber-framed houses.
Khan moved slow and deliberate, his young legs eating distance without the bounce of youth. The cursed blade hanging on his belt with unnatural weight. A reminder of the mess he just got himself into.
'System scan.' He activated the skill on everyone.
A burly, scarred mercenary sharpening a massive axe.
[Name: Bram]
[Race: Half Orc]
[Level: 38]
[Status: Mama's Boy, Missing his slime pet.]
[Note: Clenching his small bladder — Fourth tankard of ale at lunch was a mistake. Urgency: 78%. Estimated public embarrassment window: 9 minutes.]
A majestic-looking elf shouting about "Premium Potions."
[Name: Mikel]
[Race: Elf]
[Level: 53]
[Status: Rich but stingy as a constipated goblin, Lying about the quality of his stuff.]
[Item: Colored Water (99%), Healing Herb(1%)]
Khan almost laughed out loud. 'Veyra's finest.'
A richly dressed woman in a carriage rolled past, silk curtains half-drawn. She fanned herself even though the breeze was decent.
[Name: Mirabel Corvaine]
[Race: Human]
[Level: 27]
[Status: Bored out of her mind.]
[Note: Husband left for the capital three weeks ago. Has already decided the new stablehand looks "sturdy." Planning to "inspect the horses" atdusk.]
'Classy,' He thought.
Near the tavern called the Broken Crown, a priest in plain robes was blessing a cart of cabbages for a few coppers. His face was serene. His scan window was not.
[Name: Halric]
[Race: Human]
[Level: 33]
[Status: Horny (Barely suppressed)]
[Note: Last night's dream involved the tavern keeper's wife and a very creative use of holy oil. Has not confessed — Will not confess.]
'Even the gods' representatives are a mess.' Khan rubbed the bridge of his nose.
He kept walking, letting the windows pop up and fade like soap bubbles until his eyes zeroed in on the rich merchants near the central fountain square. Three of them — fat purses, richer clothes, stingy eyes. The perfect prey Khan was aiming for.
He sauntered up, dagger still sheathed but visible enough to catch the light. "Gentlemen. Fine afternoon for not getting pick-pocketed, isn't it?"
The lead merchant — a bald human with a gold chain thick enough to moor a ship — looked him up and down. "New face. Haven't seen you before. Where you came from, pretty boy?"
Khan flashed him an advanced corporate smile. "Name's Khan. Just arrived, already making deals. Got something special. Elven silver assassin dagger. A-rank. Used to belong to a Shadow Court killer. Blade still whispers when it tastes blood. Frame's a bit big for elves — perfect for a man who knows how to use it. 60 silver and it's yours."
The merchant laughed. "60? Boy, I can buy three daggers for that at the guild."
"Boy?" Khan's voice dropped into that low, sarcastic drawl he used on Bloomberg calls. "I've bankrupted companies bigger than your entire bloodline, grandpa. This isn't some guild scrap. This is the kind of knife that lets you sleep at night because the other guy doesn't wake up. 55 silver. Last offer before I walk to the next fat purse."
Shing! The cursed blade suddenly felt like a block of lead hanging from his belt, the unnatural weight pulling violently at his trousers and nearly throwing his posture off balance.
'What the—?' Khan's eyes narrowed as he maintained his sharp corporate smile. 'That greenie bastard must've wired this contract with a live audio-feed or something. The moment I drop the price, he manually adjusts the gravity to screw with me. You greedy piece of shit.'
The second merchant — even richer, even stingier — leaned in, his eyes turned greedy. "45 silver."
Khan scanned him quickly.
[Name: Finnian]
[Level: 22]
[Status:Rich, stingy, secretly terrified of his wife finding out about the mistress.]
Khan barked a laugh. "45 silver? My goblin friend would've given it to me for 30 and still made profit. You're trying to rob a man who died yesterday. 53 silver. And I'll throw in the story of how I got it — stabbed in a Macau alley for the wrong pink-haired chick. Adds character."
Shing! The curse activated again.
'Motherfucker!!! Stop interfering with my business!!!' Khan internally screamed.
[The goblin didn't wire anything, you paranoid dimwit.]
[No one listening nor manipulating the curse. You're just a terrible dealer.]
Khan's eyes twitched before the system terminals that's brutally dissing him.
The third merchant snorted. "You talk too much for an outlander."
"And you pay too little for a man with three mistresses and a wife who'll skin you if she finds out," Khan shot back, tapping the side of his head, his legs trembling under the blade's torturing weight. "Trust me, I can smell cheap from three continents away."
The first merchant finally cracked a grin. "50 silver. Final."
"Done." Khan shook the man's hand, already counting the profit in his head.
'Not bad for a twenty minutes' work.'
Shing! The blade's weight increased again. Khan profusely sweated as he lifts the dagger up with both of his shaking hands. The blade's cursed inscription hummed again before moving from the hilt to his palm the moment the merchant placed his hand on it.
"Whew! Pleasure doing busines—?!" Khan's grin died the instant his gaze locked onto a hooded, shady figure standing near a fruit stall. The system's terminal popped up.
[Name: Miriel]
[Level: ???]
[Race: High Demon]
[Status: Exhausted, Clueless, Running on the last fumes of royal dignity.]
[Note: Mana vein corruption at 14% and climbing.]
[Warning: Third Daughter of the Demon King]
Khan felt a cold knot tightening in his gut. He stared at the floating terminal, reading the text twice just to be sure.
For a system that had spent the entire morning treating his very existence as a punchline, this sudden shift to deadpan seriousness was terrifying. It was the exact equivalent of a joke-cracking broker suddenly going dead silent before slamming the "SELL ALL" button.
'Demon King? You mean that final boss dude in every world setting?' Khan sweated.
He decided to take a closer look with an audible gulp. The hooded figure was standing at a fruit vendor's stall, her oversized cloak pulled tight, one slender, snow-white hand extending something that glowed like bottled starlight.
[Item: Elemental Emblem of Sargan the First - SS-Rank]
[Grade: Legendary]
[Value: ??? (National treasure)]
Khan's eyes almost bulged out from his skull. 'Holy... Is this real..? I mean, I could tell just by looking at it, but—'
[Yes it is. The kind of artifact that could buy a small kingdom]
[Unlike some dimwit bearing a curse from a lowly goblin.]
'...' A vein popped on his forehead. If not for "it's the only thing currently available", he would've folded the System's terminal in two by his own hands, and throws it back to whoever providing him with such... questionable thing while demanding a refund.
As the hooded demonic royalty reaches her hand out, the fruit vendor — a greasy human with a smile like a loan shark who just spotted fresh meat — was staring at the emblem with pure predatory hunger.
"…Sunfruits. Just the red ones. This one only needs enough for today." The princess muttered.
"..."
'WHAT THE FUUUUCCCKKKKKKKK!!!!!!!!'