Chapter 35: Big Spender

Early in the morning, in a soft bed at the inn, the sound of hawkers and rattling carriages came from outside the window.

Gima had just managed to escape from another nightmare about jumping off a building, her little heart pounding wildly in her chest. She opened her eyes, and the first thing she saw was George’s ramrod-straight back as he sat at the desk, already diligently studying something.

It was just a dream. A dream.

Her heart, which had been pounding with a primal, familiar fear, slowly calmed down, and her tense muscles finally relaxed.

The red double bed was wide and large. Gima, all alone in the vast expanse of sheets, felt very empty and unaccustomed to it. She was used to waking up every day nestled between the slender, snowy arms and long, pale white legs of her many beautiful maids.

Gima sat up in bed. The thin blanket slid down her slender shoulders, and her tail curled into a tight, miserable ball.

“Sigh,” she heaved a deep, soul-crushing sigh.

I miss the soft, warm bodies of my maids so, so much. It’s all that damn virgin’s fault.

“Gima, what’s wrong?” George turned his head and looked at her, his expression one of paternal concern. “Already sighing like an old man?”

Isn’t it all your fault, you party pooper?!

Gima felt a wave of profound exhaustion, but she quickly rallied her spirits.

Right now, she was steadily advancing on the glorious, wide-open road to strength and revenge. Although the villain George had stolen half of her hard-earned money, she had still managed to walk away with a cool 5,013 gold and 23 silver, and she had gotten the true key to her treasure vault. And although George had spanked her yesterday, so what? For every step forward for good, a greater leap for evil. Wasn’t he still being completely, utterly fooled by her?

At that thought, Gima was filled with a renewed, indomitable fighting spirit. She smiled and replied, “It’s nothing.”

George nodded. “That’s good. After you wash up, we need to go to the market district to buy some necessary supplies. It might take the entire day.”

“The entire day?”

“I’ve found that I need quite a few things,” George said, picking up a piece of paper from the desk, which was densely covered in his neat, precise handwriting.

“Okay, I’ll be ready right away.”

Gima felt a sharp pang in her heart. Not only was half of her hard-earned, blood-soaked money stolen, but she also had to personally accompany him and watch him spend it. It was a special kind of torture.

She leaped lightly from the bed and ran behind a screen to start washing up.

Three quarters of an hour later, George and Gima, who was dutifully holding his sword, took a small, rocking boat into the coliseum-like market district.

The market district was located in a massive, circular building that resembled the ancient Roman Colosseum. The open space in the center was a densely populated area where every inch of land was worth its weight in gold. There were display stands everywhere, and greasy slave traders brought their “goods” onto wooden platforms to show them off to the leering crowd.

As the two of them entered the market district, a slave trader dramatically ripped the loincloth off a young, brown-skinned woman, exposing her private parts to the public. A vulgar roar went up from the crowd below. The brown-skinned woman bit her lip and turned her head away, her eyes squeezed shut.

The slave trader grew even more excited and shouted, his voice cracking with greed:

“A precious, sexy virgin! Fresh off the boat! After you pop her cherry, I guarantee she’ll be clinging to you every single day!”

The crowd below became even more boisterous and rowdy.

Gima’s attention was drawn to the brown-skinned girl. The girl was trying her best to turn her head away, and tears were falling from her chin, tracing clean paths through the grime on her face. Below the stage, a group of men whose brains had clearly been taken over by their dicks stared with fire in their eyes, each pair of eyes like the fangs of a hungry wolf, as if at any moment they would pounce and tear the brown-skinned girl to pieces.

A liar and a bunch of idiots. Skin color has absolutely nothing to do with being hypersexual. Amateurs.

Just as Gima was thinking this, George pulled her by the arm and they stepped onto a wide staircase leading to the upper levels. Each level was a ring of high-end shops. The clamor and stench from the slave market below were soon left behind them.

“Gima,” George suddenly said, his voice soft.

“Hmm?”

“Don’t be too sad.”

What’s with that look of profound sympathy?

Gima was completely baffled. “What do you mean?”

“I thought, when you saw her, you was reminded of your own past. Hatched only to become someone’s slave.”

Gima’s mouth twitched. She then broke into a brilliant, radiant smile. “I’m not sad at all. Meeting you, George, was the greatest fortune of my life.”

It was, in a twisted way, the absolute truth.

George was stunned for a moment, then a genuine smile appeared on his face as well. “Meeting you was my fortune too.”

He took the bait, the damn virgin.

Gima’s smile grew even wider. She hugged the two-handed greatsword in her arms and hummed a tuneless, but very cheerful, little song.

However, she wasn't happy for long.

“Customer, this set of formal attire will be fifty gold coins,” the shop owner, a little old man with a magnificent handlebar mustache, said. “And with the matching jeweled accessories, the total comes to two hundred and fifty gold.”

“We’ll take it.”

George nodded.

Are you going to the emperor’s grand coronation banquet or something?! Why are you buying such ridiculously extravagant things?!

Gima roared in her heart, but she couldn’t think of a plausible reason to object. She could only take out her money pouch, pull out the pre-packaged cloth bags of gold, each containing fifty coins. Before long, five bulging money pouches were sitting on the counter.

“You are truly generous, customer! We will arrange for someone to deliver the clothes and accessories to your inn immediately.”

The little old man smiled, his mustache twitching with delight, and had his servant take away the money pouches. Gima could only watch as her hard-earned, blood-soaked money disappeared into someone else’s pocket.

Why do you have to buy such luxurious clothes?! As a simple and austere Paladin, you should just buy a piece of sackcloth for a single copper coin and be done with it!

The torturous, soul-crushing shopping spree continued.

“Customer, you have a truly discerning eye! This bottle of healing potion contains a sliver of divine power! It can heal even the most grievous wounds in an instant—” “We’ll take it.” “Fifty gold coins, thank you!”

“Customer, this rare alchemical component…” “How much?” “Eighty gold coins.” “We’ll take it.”

Gima could almost hear the sound of a river of gold coins pouring out of her pocket. You have healing abilities yourself, you idiot! Why are you buying so many healing potions?!

After a full, agonizing circle of shopping, they had spent nearly six hundred gold coins.

Gima was in a terrible, terrible mood. Anyone would be in a bad mood after watching their money being thrown away so lavishly. The money they had just spent in a few hours was enough to stay at their high-end inn for almost two years. Anything that had even a little to do with magic was ridiculously, obscenely expensive.

“Finally, we’re almost done buying everything.”

George said with deep satisfaction, his backpack now bulging with expensive goods.

“Yes… finally… almost done,” Gima said listlessly, looking down at the noisy market below with dead eyes. “Can we go back now?”

She just wanted to get away from this heartbreaking, tragic place as quickly as possible.

“Sir Knight.”

A male servant in a smart black uniform and a feathered hat came over to them. “I heard you were looking to purchase some rare magic items. I hope I’m not mistaken.”

“Look at that,” Gima complained under her breath. “In less than half a day, your reputation as a gullible, free-spending sucker has spread throughout the entire market district.”

George just nodded at the servant.

“As it happens, my master has recently created some unique and powerful magical curiosities. His shop is open today. Would you perhaps be interested?”

“No, no, we’re not,” Gima said quickly. “My master believes that magic is a shortcut for the weak, and that using magic equipment indiscriminately will diminish one’s courage and cause one to lose the favor of the goddess. Thank you, goodbye, we have to go now.”

George knocked Gima on the head. “Lead the way,” he said to the servant.

On the highest, most exclusive level of the market, a dim shop faced north. It was as quiet and serene as if it weren’t in a bustling, chaotic market at all.

“Opening a shop in such a remote place, you might as well put up a sign that says, ‘I don’t want to do business’,” Gima grumbled.

“Miss, those who can afford our master’s goods know where we are. Those who cannot, can never find us,” the male servant said with a palpable pride. “Only occasionally, when the great lords of the city don’t have custom orders, will my master personally come to the shop. You are very lucky today.”

“You sound very proud. I suppose anyone would be happy to find a job where they only have to slack off every single day.”

The three of them walked into the shop.

The “master” the servant had spoken of was in the shop, sitting at a desk directly opposite them, flipping through a heavy, leather-bound book.

Unlike the common stereotype, this shop owner, who was engaged in intellectual work, had powerful, bulging muscles and a shiny bald head. He was shirtless, with a heavy silver chain around his neck. He looked like he belonged in an underground fighting pit, not a high-end magic item shop.

Gima almost thought he was the same alchemist who had been selling potions the other day.

But they’re all the same. They’re all just here to scam people out of their money, Gima thought with a cynical sigh.

After some ordinary, perfunctory pleasantries, George, through Gima, stated his needs.

“You need ‘Bracers of Defense’?” the bald shop owner asked, pushing up the small, scholarly glasses on his nose—the only thing about him that even remotely fit his profession. “Bracers of Defense are a fairly common magical curio, and not too difficult to make. But you should consider this.”

Alright, here comes the up-sell. Get ready.

“If it’s too expensive, never mind. My master cannot tolerate being fooled or taken for a ride.”

“Little maid, didn’t your master teach you not to interrupt when adults are speaking?”

“Speak,” George asked, ignoring the insult.

“Many people misunderstand Bracers of Defense. They think that wearing them will definitely increase their defense, but that’s not the case,” the bald shop owner said, launching into his spiel. “In technical terms, it provides an ‘armor bonus.’ The plate armor your master is wearing also provides an ‘armor bonus,’ and therefore, the two will conflict with each other and not stack.”

“From its defensive principle, it forms a magical force field armor around the wearer, which is invisible and weightless. In other words, if you wear physical armor, it will be rendered ineffective. Just as you can’t wear two sets of plate armor, this is an ironclad, unchangeable rule of magic.”

What utter ignorance! I know a Michelin-starred war god who can wear three sets of full plate armor and Bracers of Defense, and he’s harder than an iron turtle!

“I’m buying them for her.”

George pointed at Gima.

“Her?” The bald shop owner’s gaze officially landed on Gima for the first time. “Ah. Then there’s no problem. You’re truly generous, sir, willing to invest such a large sum of gold coins in your little pet.”

Gima resisted the powerful urge to give him the middle finger.

“…But, unfortunately, we don’t have any Bracers of Defense in our shop at the moment.”

“Never mind then,” George said, turning to leave.

Great. After all that shopping, I still haven’t gotten a single thing for myself, except for a pile of potions that are about to expire.

“Can we go now, Master?” Gima said.

“Ahem.” George nudged Gima with his foot to show his displeasure with the title. He took out a piece of paper and handed it to the bald shop owner. “I need a custom order. These are my requirements.”

When did he prepare that?

Gima stood on her tiptoe, trying to see what was written on the paper, but George gently pushed her head down.

The bald shop owner took the paper, glanced at it, and said, “It’s within my capabilities, but there are many complex functions. It will be very troublesome. The price might be a bit high. Six thousand gold coins. I’ll need a thousand gold coins as a deposit.”

With that, he touched the silver plaque hanging from his neck. It was a symbol of his skill and seemed to show his professionalism.

“Can you make it?” 

“Yes.”

“Is the price reasonable?”

“Reasonable.”

They were all truths.

George nodded in satisfaction.

“Master George!” Gima said quickly, her voice a panicked squeak. “We’ve already spent six hundred and thirteen gold coins this morning!” You don’t have enough money, you idiot!

“Please wait a moment,” George said to the bald shop owner. He pulled Gima out of the shop, held out his hand, and said in a low voice, “Gima, lend me three thousand gold coins.”

I knew it! I knew it! He said he was giving me half the money, but he was actually just letting me hold it for him! Hypocrite! Bad George! Spendthrift! Degenerate!

Gima viciously condemned George in her heart, but on the surface, she didn't show a hint of it. She just asked, her voice full of strange calm, “Are you sure you really need it? It’s a lot of money.”

“I need it very much.”

“Okay. I support you,” Gima said with the loyalty of a true friend. “And you don’t have to pay me back.”

She was very impressed with her own acting skills. She clearly wanted to dismember him, yet she looked so righteous and supportive.

After paying the money, Gima felt as if her heart, and her wallet, had been completely hollowed out.

That night, when she went to sleep, Gima had another nightmare. She dreamed that she had discovered that all the money in her bank had been transferred away by her ex-wife, and the remaining balance was just a single, lonely, mocking 0.