The Gilded Moon.
The luxury inn near the central square — three stories of polished stone, velvet drapes, and the faint scent of expensive incense meant to cover up the fact that the city still smelled like a slum two blocks away.
Khan flashed a handful of silver coins and his best "I just robbed a syndicate and I'm not even sorry" smile at the receptionist.
"Evening, young man." He exclaimed, slamming his hand on the counter out of habit like a rich bachelor in his 40s as he was. "A first-class room. Two single beds. Hot water and a decent dinner served right to the door."
The receptionist's corporate smile on his face instantly froze.
Khan's clothes were disheveled, covered in dust and reeks of cheap ale mixed with dried blood. Behind him, a slender figure, shrouded in a gray cloak, stood motionless, radiating a deadly chill completely out of place in the warm glow of the crystal chandelier.
The receptionist swallowed nervously. "Sir... I'm afraid that The Gilded Moon has a dress code, and—"
"And the hall is completely empty." Khan sneered, interrupting him. He gestured towards the window. "We all know the reason. Something about the approaching Corrupt Storm, yes?"
Khan leaned in closer. "So, unless your old boss wants this vast hall to be completely empty for the entire week of the storm, I think we can make some adjustments to the rules."
With that, Khan thrust his hand into the heavy cloth bag he'd just "looted" from The Iron Tooth.
Clang.
A handful of silver coins—mixed with a few bloody copper coins—was thrown onto the counter. The heavy clang of metal blinded the receptionist.
The mini goblin popped out again, but it didn't has the chance to start another humiliating verse about Khan as he immediately bitch-slapped the annoying thing, sending it fly out of the hall.
"...Is this enough for a night?" He panted, massaging his palm. "If not…" Khan stepped back, yielding the spotlight.
Miriel said nothing. She merely raised her head slightly. From under the hood, a pair of regal purple eyes gleamed with cold, murderous intent, fixed on the receptionist. An invisible magical pressure emanating from her demonic aura caused the temperature in the hall to drop, extinguishing the candle on the man's desk.
The receptionist's face turned from shock to deathly pale. He looked at the blood-stained pile of coins, then at the violet eyes beneath the hood, his hands trembling as he frantically grabbed the bunch of keys.
"Room... room 302, sir! Third floor, two single beds, the v-view overlooking the square."
"Excellent service!" Khan grinned, snatching the keys before the receptionist could realize. He turned to Miriel, politely gesturing to the stair. "Let's go, your Highness. Spending luxury accommodations paid by the others is always a healing experience."
------
The room's door clicked shut. Khan breathed a sigh of relief. He tossed the heavy bag of money he had just loot onto the single bed on the right, intending to immediately dive into the soft mattress to enjoy the fruits of his labor after a night that nearly cost him his life.
But his actions froze when Miriel began to remove the cloak slowly.
The moment the fabric slipped from her shoulders, Khan felt his breath caught in his throat. For the first time, under the dazzling crystal chandelier of the luxurious room, the true beauty of the demon princess was fully revealed.
It was breathtaking, so overwhelming that it seemed to dim the surrounding space. Khan stood there, his eyes fixed on her every movement. It wasn't just her flawless, perfect face; the detail that truly captivated him was the pair of glossy black horns, proudly curving from her temples, partially hidden behind her deep crimson hair with a pair of pointy ears.
It was a regal, powerful yet wild beauty. Khan thought to himself, this was the "original" beauty that women on Earth, even if they spent millions, even hundreds of millions of dollars on the most expensive cosmetic surgery and beauty treatments, could only dream of possessing a tenth of.
Khan's stunned silence lasted only a few seconds until Miriel surveyed the room like a queen inspecting her new summer palace.
"Two beds," she observed, voice dripping with aristocratic disapproval. "This one shall take the one by the window. You will lie down there." She gestured with her chin towards the hard marble floor.
Khan blinked. He looks at the cold floor, then at the two huge single beds. Their pristine white sheets beckoning. He chuckled, thinking she was joking.
"Your Highness, if you don't realize, allow me to remind you: We generously rented a room with two beds. I paid for two, which means I own one. The other is entirely yours."
"No." Miriel sat down on the edge of the left bed, her back straight, her demeanor as dignified as if she were sitting on the throne of a demon's palace, not in a human's inn. "You are this one's subordinate, and a subordinate's place is on the ground to guard their master. Furthermore..."
She frowned slightly, her eyes showing a disdain and seriousness beyond compare:
"Royalty does not share a resting space with someone of the opposite gender, unless that person is one's legitimate husband. Allowing you to sleep on a bed of the same height in the same room is already an insult to my honor."
Khan facepalmed so hard the sound echoed off the walls. "You've been running from the rebels for twenty years, sleeping in caves, and you're drawing the line at two separate beds?"
Miriel simply smiled, elegant and utterly immovable. "One must preserve dignity where one can. The floor is yours, loyal servant."
'This is the most ridiculous royal decree I've heard since my second ex-wife demanded alimony for emotional damages.' Khan sighed the sigh of a forty-eight-year-old soul trapped in an eighteen-year-old body.
"Fine..." He lost the mood to take a short break upon realizing where he will end up tonight.
"...Then please at least tell me, your Highness. Do you need those blades?" Khan pointed to the crude weapons scattered haphazardly in the corner of Miriel's bed.
She glanced at them, her delicate eyebrows slightly furrowed in disgust, as if she had just seen a pile of rubbish.
"No need," she replied coldly, her tone filled with the arrogance of a superior. "Those crude pieces are unworthy of one's caliber to touch, let alone using. Their presence in the same room as mine is already the limit of one's tolerance."
"Nice, then this 'humiliation' belongs to me." Khan smirked, grabbing the swords along with the stuffs he looted at the tavern and heads out to Zik's pawnshop to finish the business.
"Ah, one more thing," Khan turns back at the doorstep. "Please refrain from using your power too much, your Highness—"
"This one remembered." Miriel rolled her eyes in annoyance.
"Great. I've already paid extra for the receptionist to never talk about our location. But, just in case, do not open the door for anyone. If someone knocks, tell them your husband has dysentery. Nobody enters a room with dysentery."
"Urgh... You are insufferable." Miriel's violet eyes narrowed into disgusted slits.
"Thank you," Khan said cheerfully. "It's a gift."
------
Zik's Pawn & Salvage was still open. The one-eyed goblin was distributing his goods into what to save and what to throw away before the storm hit.
Khan slammed the door and dumped his loot on the counter with a metallic clatter.
Zik's single eye lit up like a slot machine. "Well, well. Looks like the outlander had a productive evening. Did ya rob a Mayor with that knife?"
"Market volatility, nothing grand. Oh and I'm definitely charging you for this shit, you greedy bastard." Khan opened his palm where the curse inscription still subtly glowing.
"Hahaha! Ya like it?" Zik laughed while pouring the minor curse-cleaning potion on his hand.
"Ah fuck you, greenie." Khan averts his eyes.
"Alright, let's see what ya got here." Zik opens the bag. "Six rusted sword, a steel dagger, a wedding ring, some accessories, and... What the hell is this?!" Zik laughed harder as he looks at the golden tooth. "Didn't know ya got some real skills!"
"That's how it is." Khan's smirk windened. "So, what do you say?"
Zik squinted, scratching his chin like a scholar trying to figure out a new formula for his ass-wiping spell.
"I say 1 gold coin and we're square!" The goblin's eye perked up at him, scanning.
"Square my ass! Don't give me that shit. Look at this!" Khan picks up the tooth, looking genuinely offended. "This is a pristine, gold-capped molar extracted from a high-ranking enforcer! It has history! It has character! It probably chewed steak better than you do! 1 gold and 25 silvers, plus compensation for that fucking little shit you put on me today."
Zik cackled. "Yer selling me a dead man's molar and calling me the cheap one? 1 gold and 20 silver because I like yer guts, outlander."
"Fine! But I'm keeping this." Khan snatches the badge Vex dropped upon trying to land a hit on Miriel.
[Item: Badge of the Black Skull Gang.]
"Hah! What am I gonna do with that anyway." Zik dropped 1 gold coin and 20 silvers onto the counter before returning to what he was doing.
"Already packing?" Khan slowly wiped the coins while scanning the crates Zik was working on.
[Item: Faded Illusionist's Headband - B-Rank]
[Status: Slightly worn but functional.]
[Effect: When worn and activated, projects a stable minor illusion over the wearer's head and upper face.]
[Note: Capable of concealing or altering visible features such as horns, ears, or unusual markings for up to 8 hours per full charge. Illusion quality is high enough to fool casual observation and low-to-mid level detection magic.]
"Hey Zik, get rid of this junk. This stinky headband looks like it could still be used to tie your 'hair'." Khan gestured with his chin, as if bestowing a favor on the Goblin. "Leave me this piece of cloth, as compensation for my 'sorting' efforts just now. 10 silvers, how about that?"
Zik narrowed his eyes. He snatched the headband, sniffed it, and then examined it under the dim oil lamp.
"10 coins? Ya kidding me? Even though it looks tattered, I smell magic! 20 silvers, no less!"
Khan smirked, he knew perfectly well this goblin was playing tricks again. "Magic? This smells more like cockroaches. Look at this stain, it's practically falling apart. 13 silvers. Final price I'll pay for a tattered piece of cloth. Otherwise, you can keep it and see if any cockroach would buy it."
Zik grunted, staring at Khan's confident face before sighing bitterly as if he'd just lost a treasure trove.
"Alright, alright! 13 silvers, ya bloodsucker!" He snatched the coins from Khan's hand, muttering goblin's complaints about 'difficult business these days.'
[Wow. Peak level of haggling.]
[Status: A true master of the ancient art of paying almost exactly what they asked in the first place. I'm genuinely impressed by your restraint.]
Khan completely ignored his annoying companion. He took the headband and walked out of the shop triumphantly.
"Pleasure doing business with a professional scoundrel," Zik called after him.
"Back at you, you beautiful green bastard."