Chương 63: Whales and Bargain Hunters

[Time]: Day 34, Friday, 09: 00 AM [Location]: Dormitory [Golden Bough] · Room 302 Victoria was already dressed. She stood by the door, adjusting the cuff of her pristine white glove, the other hand holding a slender silver cylinder. Her posture radiated the serene impatience of a woman who had been ready since 8: 47.

"You're early," Hathaway said, pulling on her coat.

"You're late," Victoria corrected flawlessly.

"Nine o'clock means standing at the door ready to depart at nine o'clock. It does not mean you are still buttoning your collar." Hathaway rolled her eyes, grabbed her spatial bag from the desk, and checked the contents one final time. A few standard casting essentials. Some emergency potions. Other than that? Completely empty. She was traveling light today because she fully intended to come back heavily burdened with loot.

Mentally, however, her inventory was already weighed down by a very specific math problem: [Current Balance]: 9, 600 Solars. [Target Cost]: ~10, 300 Solars (6, 500 for Copyright + Estimated Material Costs). [Deficit]: ~700. The numbers hadn't magically multiplied overnight. Seven hundred Solars, she thought, slinging the bag over her shoulder. That's the gap between me and Admin Mode. Material costs fluctuate. Merchants haggle. I just need to squeeze blood from a spreadsheet.

"Ready," Hathaway declared. Victoria flicked her wrist. The silver cylinder expanded into a sleek, aerodynamic broom— [The Silver-Arrow Mark IV]. Minimalist. Silent. Precise. A broom designed by a military contractor moonlighting in interior decoration. Hathaway pulled out [The Scarlet-Valkyrie GT]. The candy-apple red finish caught the morning light like a shout.

"You know," Victoria said, mounting side-saddle by the open window, "I keep hoping that thing will look less conspicuous with time. It does not."

"It's supposed to be gorgeous, not conspicuous." Hathaway swung her leg over. The luxury saddle welcomed her like an old friend.

"Try to keep up, Princess."

"You look like an emergency flare," Victoria stated flatly, and kicked off. Hathaway grinned and followed. BOOM. The morning air over Milan'thir was crisp and clean. They climbed above the dormitory spires, banked east, and Hollow Mountain appeared on the horizon—that familiar jagged silhouette of raw granite, suspended in the sky like a fist. Hathaway didn't gawk this time.

Just days ago, she had strolled into this very mountain and casually swiped 7, 400 Solars without blinking, treating Victoria to vintage Deep Sea Ice Moon Sugar and Dragon Egg Cocktails. She had tasted the absolute pinnacle of financial freedom. And today? Today she was doing mental gymnastics over a 700-Solar deficit. Life comes at you fast, Hathaway thought, feeling a deeply ironic amusement. Truly, the gacha cycle of wealth.

One day you're a whale, the next you're a free-to-play peasant grinding for premium currency. They pierced the wind barrier at the cavern mouth and descended into the inverted vertical city. The familiar cocktail of Favanian steam-oil, Casendiaran florals, and Marigold salt hit her nose. They docked at Level 14: The Arcane Scripture & Components Ring. The Friday morning crowd was thinner than the evening rush, but the market was already alive.

High above a pawn shop, a massive holographic sign flickered in neon red: [Loans Available — Fast Approval] [Reasonable Interest. 50-Year Repayment Plans.]"Fifty-year repayment plans..." Hathaway muttered under her breath, her gamer brain automatically calculating the leverage. I have 9, 600. If I take a small loan, I could easily clear the spell cost and buy full Tier-3 materials...

"Don't," Victoria said, walking beside her, her gaze unfocused and staring straight ahead. Hathaway blinked.

"I didn't say I was going to—""I heard you doing the math, Ludwig," Victoria interrupted smoothly, her voice cutting cleanly through the market noise.

"This district is where many Witches make their fortunes. But it is also where even more fall into absolute, grinding poverty." Hathaway looked at her.

"Is debt that scary? We're Witches. We live a long time. We can always pay it back."

"That is exactly the problem." Victoria smoothed her white gloves, her tone calm and ruthlessly academic.

"Because we live a long time, lenders are very generous. They know you won't die of old age. They know you will eventually pay."

"So you borrow. You buy the high-grade cauldron. You buy the Rare spell. You think:'I have centuries to earn it back.'" Victoria turned her face slightly towards Hathaway.

"And then you wake up, and you realize you are working for the bank for the next eighty years. You aren't ruined. You aren't enslaved. You are just... Stagnant."

"The spells you want to learn are infinite. The materials you desire are endless. But your gold... is always finite. Without absolute self-control, you will starve to death while hugging a pile of rare artifacts." Hathaway swallowed, her gamer instincts immediately translating the warning. Predatory microtransactions. A literal pay-to-lose mechanic designed to trap players in an endless daily grind. Got it.

"No loans," Hathaway confirmed firmly.

"Just the cash in my pocket and whatever discount I can claw out of the merchants." They continued walking. And then, she saw Him. She stopped dead in front of a sprawling storefront: [The Familiar's Den]. Inside a magically reinforced habitat, a [Polar Siege Bear Cub] from Nordenheim sat on its hind legs, solving a Rubik's Cube with calm, intelligent blue eyes. It was massive, armored in thick, ridiculously fluffy white fur. The bear looked up. It saw Hathaway.

It tilted its head, pressed its massive paws against the glass, and let out a soft, rumbling woof. Hathaway's heart completely melted.

"Holy mana," Hathaway gasped softly, stepping toward the glass, entirely unable to resist.

"You are solving a Rubik's cube. Who's a good little armored siege engine? Are you? Yes you are." Price: 3, 000 Solars. Her brain instantly exploded with the pure, unadulterated radiance of a Closet Simp encountering a God-Tier fluffy mount. 3, 000 Solars. I have 9, 600! I could literally walk in there and buy him right now! Her mind raced. Dormitories were spatial bubbles; expanding them just required raw mana. With her monstrous reserves, maintaining a massive expansion was a trivial background task.

Free real estate! A Polar Siege Bear requires a minimum roaming territory of 200 square kilometers, her brain calculated at lightning speed. If I custom-build an artificial Ice Cave ecosystem inside Dorm 302, I can compress that down to 90 square kilometers. I can DIY the glaciers. I can synthesize the blizzards. I can give him the absolute best habitat possible... Hathaway paused, a horrifying realization dawning on her. If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent.

Report it. Wait. If I build an arctic tundra in my dorm... I have to LIVE in an arctic tundra. A common misconception about high-mana Witches was that they were immune to the elements. They weren't. The true essence of Witch evolution wasn't about becoming a numb block of stone; it was about experiencing life fully without being destroyed by it. A Witch still felt the biting chill of the snow; she still burned her tongue on scalding tea. She just wouldn't die from it. So yes, Hathaway wouldn't get frostbite.

But she would still feel freezing cold. She pictured herself waking up at a brisk negative twenty degrees, forced to cast a continuous [Thermal Ward] just to walk to the bathroom in her pajamas. She pictured herself trying to study Advanced Arcane Geometry while an indoor glacier radiated freezing air into her living room, all while the bear happily chewed on a frozen tuna. I love you, buddy, Hathaway thought, looking at the fluffy cub with deep, genuine sorrow.

But I absolutely refuse to run a 24/7 heating spell in my own home just to accommodate a pet. What about sending him home? Her moms had just flooded the entire Atlantean Palace to create a deep-sea ecosystem for Rory. The temperature was definitely cold enough. The bear would love it there. But wait... if I buy a premium pet just to leave it at home, what is the point?!

The entire purpose of buying an SSR pet was to walk into Nino Lucent's lab with an armored bear trailing behind her, handing her wrenches and flexing on her boss! Paying 3, 000 Solars just to become a long-distance pet parent running on a premium JPEG subscription from her moms? Absolutely not!

"Ludwig," Victoria's voice floated back from ten meters ahead. She hadn't turned around, but she had definitely heard the embarrassing baby-talk.

"Whatever high-maintenance creature you are currently cooing at, you cannot afford it." Hathaway tore her eyes away from the adorable fluffball. Her face twisted in pure F2P gamer rage at her own logistical limitations.

"I am not making a purchase," Hathaway gritted her teeth, marching forward with furious strides to catch up.

"The housing mechanics are fine, but the environmental survival requirements are completely unoptimized! I refuse to cast thermal buffs just to go to sleep!" Victoria blinked, completely failing to understand half the jargon Hathaway just used. But she understood the sheer indignation in her tone.

"A wise survival decision," Victoria noted smoothly, leading the way deeper into the district.

"Now, come along. You cannot extort the material merchants until you actually own the spell and know the recipe." [Time]: 9: 45 AM [Location]: The Scroll & Dagger - Rare Tomes They stood before a modest shop carved deep into the mountain's granite wall. The sign was made of dark oak: [The Scroll & Dagger]. Hathaway stepped inside. The air was thick with old paper, leather bindings, and the heavy, static hum of high-density mana. This was a place of Software.

Unlike the chaotic market outside, this shop was strictly civilized. Shelves lined with grimoires protected by anti-theft runic chains. A tall Witch with a zooming mechanical monocle greeted them from behind a high mahogany counter.

"I need [Amora's Analytic Vision]," Hathaway stated her business immediately, the desperation of a min-maxer clear in her voice.

"A Tier 3 Rare. Excellent taste." The shopkeeper waved her hand. A thin booklet bound in deep blue velvet floated down from a high shelf and landed softly on the counter.

"That will be 6, 500 Solars." Hathaway stared at the book. A Spell Tome contained two things: The Derivation Logs —the author's research notes and mathematical proofs, because every Witch's mana was unique and Hathaway had to re-engineer the spell to fit her own pool. The Potion Recipe —the specific reagent list needed to mutate the body and brain to accept this logic structure. Bookstores sold the Mind. They never sold the Body.

Selling ingredients alongside the book meant leaking the proprietary recipe to everyone in the store. A Witch's recipe was her ultimate trade secret. You bought the book, unlocked the seal, memorized the shopping list, and then went to the Apothecary. Hathaway touched her ledger. 9, 600 Solars. Minus 6, 500. Remaining: 3, 100. She swiped her card. The gold vanished. Hathaway picked up the blue booklet. It felt warm, pulsing with High Witch Amora's dormant logic. She flipped to the back page.

The [Recipe Seal] recognized her mana signature and dissolved under her touch. The recipe revealed itself. It wasn't simple. It was highly aggressive. [Required Reagents for Modification:] [Prism Eyes of a Mirror-Spider]: Not normal spider eyes. These were multifaceted crystals from the Deep Layers, used to physically fracture the user's vision into multiple data streams. [Liquid Mithril (3 Drops)]: The "Amora" signature.

A super-conductor to ensure the brain processes the SSS-tier data flow without lagging and causing an aneurysm. [Cerebral Fluid of a Logic-Construct]: To impose strict order and a UI structure on the chaotic mana. [Nerve-Stimulant from a Lightning Ray]: The "Overclock" component. To forcefully accelerate the optic nerve's transmission speed. Mithril... Logic Fluid... Lightning Stimulant... Hathaway closed the book with a heavy snap. This isn't a potion. This is bio-fuel.

And sourcing these individually on a 3, 100 Solar budget is going to be a nightmare.

"Is that all?" the shopkeeper asked.

"For me, yes," Hathaway stepped back, tucking her financial ruin safely into her spatial bag. Victoria stepped forward.

"I will take the three limited-edition novelties from last night's premium catalog update," she said smoothly. Hathaway watched her roommate with deep, systemic envy. Victoria didn't actually need new spells for work. She was essentially a senior programmer writing a custom API—taking her existing diagnostic models, rewriting the arcane logic, and testing custom potion recipes to interface with Nino's proprietary reality engine.

Basic testing reagents were fundamentally cheaper than buying a finished, patented commercial suite. Hathaway was a desperate consumer emptying her bank account for software. Victoria was a senior engineer writing custom driver patches from scratch. So why was Victoria buying books? The shopkeeper smiled, waving her hand. Three colorful, dangerously thin booklets floated down from the high shelves and landed on the counter. Hathaway glanced at the titles. [Amora's Chromatic Layering] - Tier 1.

[Vera's 560, 000 Insults] - Tier 2. [Madge's Mass Biometric Shrinkage] - Tier 2.

"Victoria?" Hathaway blinked.

"What on earth..."

"Rare spells are the spice of life, Ludwig," Victoria said calmly, pulling out a sleek black credit card. She tapped the first book." [Amora's Chromatic Layering]. It allows you to inject a false color spectrum into your mana signature. My mana is blue, but with this, I can cast a simple 'Flash Powder' and color it with the 'Sunlight Gold' of the 5th Seat, Lady Irene." Victoria's lips curved into a villainous smirk.

"Imagine the look on an enemy's face when they think they are being attacked by a Grand Witch. It scares them into incontinence. Very tactical." Hathaway stared at her. That's... actually brilliant. And incredibly evil.

"And... [Vera's 560, 000 Insults]?" Hathaway read the second title.

"A linguistic masterpiece," Victoria nodded, her expression deadpan.

"It contains vicious mockery in over 600 planar dialects. Sometimes, physical violence is too crude. Psychological devastation is much more elegant. It ensures you always have the last word in any argument."

"And the shrinking spell?"

"For luggage," Victoria lied smoothly.

"Or for people who annoy me. Madge's variant allows for... highly specific anatomical targeting. It is quite funny." Hathaway stepped back slightly. Underneath that cool, noble, aristocratic exterior... she's just a massive troll with too much money and a twisted sense of humor.

"A fine selection," the shopkeeper smiled, her monocle zooming in on the price tags.

"Rare copies. First Editions. That will be 10, 500 Solars for the lady in white." Victoria swiped her black card without blinking. 10, 500 Solars. Gone in a second. Hathaway felt a phantom pain in her own wallet just watching that transaction. The wealth gap was real, and it was brutal. Victoria was about to spend pocket change on prototyping for her actual job, and casually dropped 10k on memes.

"Now," Victoria pocketed her three new toys and turned to Hathaway.

"You have your Book. Which means you have the Recipe."

"Yes," Hathaway nodded, clutching her bag tight.

"And I have a few prototype testing reagents to purchase for my matrix upgrade," Victoria added, checking her mental list.

"Then the civilized part of our morning is over. Now comes the Game." She pointed towards the lower levels of the Hollow Mountain. The air drifting up from the spiraling ramps didn't smell like books or refined leather. It smelled of Rust, Formaldehyde, Crushed Gemstones, and the sharp, dangerous ozone of leaking mana crystals. The Apothecary Ring.

"Bookstores are a controlled environment," Victoria said, her heels clicking against the stone ramp as they descended.

"Prices are fixed. Quality is guaranteed by the Guild. But the Apothecary Ring down there..."

"... is an unregulated PvP zone," Hathaway murmured, staring down into the sprawling, chaotic market. The pungent scent of raw materials drifting up from the lower levels triggered a very specific memory. It reminded her of the faint, bitter almond scent of the 'Blue Widow' leaf from her first month of tutoring. If you can't identify your materials, you aren't a Witch. You are a Customer. And Customers are prey. Victoria glanced back, catching the dangerous, focused glint in Hathaway's crimson eyes.

The aristocratic Witch offered a sharp, approving smile.

"Precisely. Today, the market is swarming with desperate academy students trying to fill their summer recipes," Victoria noted, her voice dropping to a cool, predatory register.

"The merchants will smell their ignorance. They will polish common Quartz and tax them for Moonstone. But if you have the eyes for it... the chaos works both ways."

"Misidentified relics. High-grade mutant organs sold as trash," Hathaway nodded, her gamer brain fully translating the scenario.

"It's a treasure hunter's auction house." Hathaway took a deep breath, the adrenaline of a hardcore F2P gamer kicking in. She checked her mental ledger. 3, 100 Solars. The estimated material cost for Amora's Analytic Vision was 3, 800. She was short by 700 Solars just to hit the baseline market value, not to mention she still needed to keep a few dozen Solars liquid for cafeteria meals tomorrow. If she let these merchants rip her off, or even if she just paid the "fair" retail price, her wallet would flatline.

She couldn't compile the spell. And if she didn't have it mastered by next Tuesday, she would be forced to manually micro-manage her Mage Hand across tripled, crystallized space dust while Nino Lucent watched in amusement. A physical and psychological fate worse than death. She didn't just need to haggle. She needed to ruthlessly pillage these merchants' profit margins.

"I need four highly aggressive ingredients on a severely crippled budget," Hathaway grinned, cracking her knuckles.

"So I don't need to hide. I just need to be smarter than them."

"Don't let them see your wallet until you see their fear," Victoria instructed, stepping off the ramp and into the noise of the market.

"Let's go," Hathaway followed, her eyes scanning the stalls with the cold, calculating hunger of a professional bargain hunter.

"I have a shopping list, and I'm going to squeeze every single copper out of this place."