Chương 105: Gold Changes Everything

I stared at the floating blue interface for several seconds. Then I blinked. Then I leaned in a little closer. Then I blinked again. Because apparently my eyeballs had decided that reading comprehension was optional whenever large amounts of money were involved. Nope. The numbers stayed exactly the same. Every single listing had sold. All of it. The flowers. The fungus fragments. The weird elite monster heart rock thing that sounded like it belonged in a cult ritual cookbook. Gone. Purchased.

Adopted by strangers with more disposable income than common sense. A strange mix of excitement and disbelief bubbled up inside me. I had fully prepared myself for disappointment. I had expected maybe half the materials to sell. Maybe a few unlucky leftovers lingering in the marketplace while I awkwardly pretended not to check the board every ten minutes like an obsessed parent waiting for exam results. Instead? Apparently, Eteria's economy had looked at my pile of monster leftovers and gone, "Ah yes.

Precisely what I was searching for." I immediately pressed the profit collection button before fate remembered I existed and changed its mind. The interface responded instantly. Bright blue text unfolded before my eyes. [Calculating your earnings.] [Applying mandatory transaction tax: 10%.] There it was. The inevitable villain of every successful business venture. Taxes. The one enemy no protagonist could truly defeat. I had fought monsters. I had survived dungeons.

I had endured emotional damage from learning the price of Tier 1 Skills. But taxes? Taxes remained undefeated across dimensions. A new notification appeared. [You have received 483 gold coins.] For a brief moment, my brain completely shut down. Then it rebooted with the enthusiasm of a child discovering the toy aisle. The number displayed on my gold interface immediately shifted. 22 gold. Then... 505 gold. I froze.

"..."

"..." I suddenly understood why rich people developed weird hobbies. Because once you crossed certain financial milestones, your brain probably stopped functioning normally. One day you're clipping coupons. If you come across this story on Amazon, it's taken without permission from the author. Report it. The next, you're buying decorative fountains shaped like dolphins because they "added character" to the estate. Five hundred and five gold.

I had officially entered the prestigious social class known as "can actually afford one piece of equipment without crying." I let out a slow whistle.

"Okay," I said, staring at the glowing numbers like they might vanish if I looked away.

"I'm not saying I've become a financial genius overnight..." I pointed at my interface.

"But this is honestly kind of insane." I turned toward the others, unable to keep the grin off my face.

"We spent one day beating up monsters, shoving their remains onto an consignment board, wandered around listening to Dimitri explain how Russians apparently negotiate with bears through aggressive eye contact..." I spread my hands dramatically.

"And somehow, that translated into this." I tapped the gold counter.

"Five hundred and five gold coins." The number still looked surreal. I laughed.

"I genuinely thought I'd be celebrating if maybe half the stuff sold by tomorrow." I shook my head.

"Instead, everything disappeared faster than free samples at a supermarket." My gaze drifted back toward the interface. The blue numbers floated there in all their beautiful glory. Simple. Elegant. Life-changing.

"I've got to admit," I said, my voice carrying equal parts amazement and relief, "this is ridiculously good money for a single day's work." I scratched the back of my head.

"I can't believe people bought all of our loot this quickly." I looked down at the glowing total one more time. Five hundred and five gold coins. Honestly. For the first time since arriving in this ridiculous world, my wallet had finally stopped sounding like an abandoned wind chime. I stared at the beautiful number sitting in my gold counter. It still looked fake. Like the system had accidentally deposited somebody else's inheritance into my account. I half expected an angry notification to pop up at any moment.

[Administrative Error Detected.] [Please return 483 gold coins immediately.] [Failure to comply will result in three very disappointed accountants being dispatched to your location.] Honestly, I would rather fight another elite monster. At least monsters had the decency to announce they wanted to kill you. Accountants smiled first. Before I could continue admiring my newly upgraded financial situation, Dimitri let out a hearty chuckle.

"You should not be overly surprised, my brother," he said warmly.

"Among Players, purchasing materials in large quantities is a very common practice. In truth, it would not astonish me in the slightest if every single item you listed had been purchased by one individual." I slowly turned to look at him. Then I looked back at my interface. Then back at Dimitri.

"... Hang on." I pointed at the marketplace screen.

"You're telling me one person might've looked at my listings and gone, 'Yes. I would like all of the suspicious flowers, all of the fungus scraps, and the creepy monster heart fragment. Wrap them up, please'?" I blinked.

"Who buys loot like they're shopping at a wholesale warehouse?" The image immediately appeared in my head. Some random Player pushing a giant shopping cart through the marketplace. I'll take twelve of these. Twelve of those. One elite monster organ. Do you validate parking? Dimitri nodded calmly, as though this was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Indeed." He folded his massive arms over his chest.

"Players who possess production-oriented Sub-classes often purchase resources in bulk. Blacksmiths, synthesizers, and others of similar professions require enormous quantities of raw materials." His expression remained thoughtful.

"They transform those materials into equipment, consumables, and various products. There is efficiency in acquiring everything at once rather than purchasing piece by piece." He smiled.

"It saves time." I stared at him.

"... You know, when I got dragged into another world, I expected more heroic battles and ancient prophecies." I gestured toward the marketplace board.

"I wasn't prepared for fantasy Costco." Dimitri laughed.

"Commerce is a battlefield of its own." Honestly? Fair enough. People had started wars over spices. I wasn't about to underestimate people willing to throw hands over discounted mushrooms. I rubbed my chin.

"So let me get this straight." I pointed toward my own chest.

"If someone became a blacksmith, they could basically buy monster leftovers from people like us, turn them into gear, and sell the finished products?" My eyes widened slightly.

"That sounds absurdly profitable." The entrepreneurial side of my brain immediately sat upright. Meanwhile, the responsible side of my brain took one look at crafting and quietly backed out of the room. Because I knew myself. I'd accidentally spend six hours trying to make one sword and somehow set the workshop on fire. June, who had remained elegantly composed throughout the entire conversation, finally spoke.

"I've heard it can be rather lucrative," she said in her refined British accent. She crossed one leg over the other with the effortless grace of someone who probably judged furniture based on whether it met royal standards.

"Many production Sub-classes are capable of generating considerable wealth." She lifted her chin slightly.

"Rather than employing NPCs, they simply acquire raw materials in bulk, manufacture the products themselves, and sell them at prices significantly lower than what NPC blacksmiths or synthesizers would ordinarily charge." There it was again. That casual confidence. Like she wasn't discussing business strategies. Like she was merely explaining basic facts to particularly slow schoolchildren. I nodded along. Then my brain finally caught up with the sentence. I looked at her.

"... Did you just call the people who actually live in this world NPCs?" Silence. I stared at June. June stared back at me. I pointed vaguely toward the surrounding city beyond the Player Center.

"The locals have families." I pointed in another direction.

"They have jobs." Another point.

"They pay taxes." I lowered my hand.

"They're real people." I blinked.

"You can't just casually reduce an entire civilization to background characters in someone else's game." I paused.

"... Actually, no, you absolutely can." I pointed at her accusingly.

"But the fact that you did it with a completely straight face is what's concerning me." Because somehow, out of everything we'd discussed today, including bear intimidation techniques and magical capitalism, the aristocratic woman referring to the native population as NPCs without a hint of irony had managed to catch me completely off guard.