IOC - 27

The stall owner looked satisfied as he pressed the magic circle into my hand. Then, he bowed and began busily packing his things. His hands moved so fast, rolling up the magic circles spread out on the cloth and stuffing them into his bag, that he looked like a man preparing to flee.

“Huh? Where are you going?”

I asked in confusion, but he didn't even answer.

It was at that exact moment.

“You son-of-a-bitch scammer!”

A thunderous roar erupted from behind, and before my brain could even process the words, the stall owner vanished in a puff of smoke right before my eyes.

And there I was, left standing there like an idiot.

“Mister?”

Huff, puff. Gilbert, who had sprinted over in a single breath, panted for air. His trademark handlebar mustache was gone, one side was completely charred black. I was briefly surprised by his unexpectedly smooth jawline, but his next words snapped me back to reality.

“Where did that scammer go?!”

“What happened to your face… Anyway, what do you mean, scammer?”

A chilling premonition brushed the back of my neck, and my trembling hands grasped at thin air. Gilbert fumed, slamming the item he was holding onto the ground.

“Dammit! He told me it was an automatic razor, but the moment I used it, flames shot out and torched my damn beard!”

“…….”

So that was why only one miserable side remained?

It was a hilarious sight, but instead of laughing, my blood turned cold.

Because in my hand, I was holding an item bought from that very same scammer.

Gilbert stared at me intensely, finding my silence odd. But my body, having just realized I’d been robbed of 1 gold, was shaking like a leaf.

“Kid? What’s wrong? …Are you crying?”

“…….”

Crying? Yeah, my heart is crying.

Son of a… my money!

“My one goooooold..!”

My scream echoed throughout the marketplace.

A woman baking bread nearby dropped her dough in shock, and children burst into tears. The sky was clear and peaceful, but my life was currently a fiery pit of hell.

Gilbert finally seemed to grasp the situation. He grabbed my shoulders and tried to calm me down. Guiding me as I stood there half-delirious, he eventually took me back to his inn.

I slumped into a chair with a look of complete transcendence. After hearing my explanation, Gilbert clicked his tongue.

“How did a smart kid like you fall for a scam like that? And what kind of magic circle would be sold at a street stall? Even a six-year-old passing by wouldn't be fooled.”

“…….”

Damn fantasy world. I thought magic circles were common here.

Cursed place. There’s no CCTV, no police, and no such thing as a refund. Even the scammer vanished like smoke, so there isn't even a way to get it back.

While I sat there grinding my teeth and swallowing my rage, Gilbert crossed his arms and spoke thoughtfully.

“Anyway, 1 gold? You paid 1 gold for that?”

“Don’t emphasize the price. I’m depressed.”

“You had that much money on you?”

When I just scratched the back of my neck at his persistent gaze, Gilbert sat down across from me and sighed.

“Where did you get it?”

“…….”

What was I supposed to say? That a VIP gave it to me? That a handsome Archmage threw money at me in exchange for my body?

…No, wait. Do I even need to say anything? Why do I have to spill my guts to this hairy guy?

I glared at him with that petty thought. But the moment I realized Gilbert’s face was genuinely serious, my chest felt tight.

“…Ugh.”

His eyes were a mix of worry and reprimand.

Unable to withstand that gaze, I eventually hesitated like a child and carefully brought up the story of Geoffrey, omitting anything about being a "possessor" or this being an "isekai."

Gilbert listened to me, his eyes narrowing slightly, and then nodded with surprising composure. I expected a scolding, but he was calmer than I thought.

“You know you did wrong, don’t you?”

“…I was planning on giving it back anyway.”

As those words escaped my mouth, a strange sense of hollowness followed.

Yeah. I knew.

Even when I survived by working two or three jobs, I had never made money like this. I habitually said I wanted to make easy money and joked about wanting to be a "rich person with no job," but I never actually lived that way.

I had always made money my own way, as myself. Being blinded by a large sum and wavering like this wasn't how I operated.

Realizing that truth again made me feel ashamed.

Soon, his voice continued, heavy and low.

“Shion, receiving a large sum of money… isn’t just about the exchange of coins. Even if it’s just a single penny, it ultimately becomes a contract. Even if you don't realize it, the moment you accept that money, you've already stepped into something.”

“…A contract?”

“Yes. In this world, lives are traded for a single coin. Let alone 1 gold. Even mercenary groups don't recklessly accept requests with that much money on the line. Because eventually, you’ll have to pay a price of equal value.”

Gilbert paused for a moment, then looked down with a low sigh.

“Of course, if you’re blinded by greed, none of that matters. So, Shion, is that who you are?”

“…….”

“Did you do it because you couldn't say no? Or because he’s famous, you thought he wouldn't lie to you?”

Before I could even catch my breath, his last sentence pierced my ears.

“That’s no excuse, Shion.”

His heavy words weighed on my chest like boulders. I bit my lip hard, avoiding his gaze.

I know. I know I was wrong.

But I already got entangled, and at the time, I didn't know anything, so I just let it slide.

But in the end, that was just an excuse.

Saying I got swept up in his pace was just a convenient shield. If I wanted to refuse, I could have refused at any time.

And yet, I didn't.

A moment of temptation, a moment of sweet words clouded my judgment, and I wavered in a way that wasn't like me. As if sensing my thoughts, Gilbert sighed and slowly patted my shoulder.

“When you’re chased by money, there are times when anyone can’t look back. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. Everyone goes through it.”

“…….”

“Besides, you’ve only just started making money. But this period is the most important. So, as you run your business from now on, hold onto your own principles.”

I bit my lip and asked quietly, perhaps to change the subject.

“…Do you have principles, Mister?”

Gilbert gave a small smirk.

“I do. To live moderately, ordinary, and for a long time. To not risk my life on dangerous requests like mercenaries do, and to just live as an innkeeper.”

“What do you know about being a mercenary?”

“People like that come and go several times a day.”

“Does someone who knows so much about contracts get scammed?”

When I snarked at him, Gilbert stroked his smooth jawline a few times, then shifted his gaze and changed the subject.

“…More importantly, how are you going to make up for that 1 gold you spent?”

Talk about a subject change. But since I was doing the same, I decided to play along.

“I’ve received other things. …Ah, don’t look at me like that! I didn't do anything weird to get it!”

I mean, I did lick a toe. But the victim was the other guy, okay?

When I tried to gloss over it, Gilbert’s gaze turned ominous. I hurriedly pulled on his remaining side of facial hair and said.

“Anyway, you should just go ahead and shave the other side of your beard.”

Gilbert let out a dry laugh, looked at me, and shook his head. Then, taking the broth I had brought, he patted my fluffy hair and headed toward the kitchen.

I watched his back and muttered to myself.

“…Principles.”

To me, the firmest principle was money.

If you have money, you live, if you don't, you die. That simple truth didn't change even when the world did. I always believed that, and I always would.

Then, there is only one problem.

Where does "money" end and "greed" begin?

And how easily does that boundary crumble?

I was lost in thought, staring blankly at the table, when Gilbert returned much later. Instead of shaving, he had somehow spread his remaining hair out to cover both sides.

“Ugh, that’s gross!”

Why on earth can't he let go of that beard?

I looked at him with a fed-up expression before finally sighing in resignation. Gilbert nonchalantly stroked his beard and snorted.

“A man needs his own unique characteristics.”

“Why does it have to be a beard?”

I grumbled, but with Gilbert’s help, I carried the gifts I received from the shop owners back to the inn on the Border.

Gilbert, looking around the now quite respectable-looking inn, asked.

“Kid, anything else you need help with?”

“No, I’m fine.”

Gilbert nodded at my answer, but before leaving, he stared for a moment at Happy, who was tied to the pillar in front of the inn.

“What is it?”

“Just… where did you say you picked him up?”

At his suspicious look toward Happy, I gave an awkward laugh and brushed it off.

“…I picked him up in front of the inn when he was half-dead.”

Does he know he’s a monster?

He’s surprisingly sharp at times like this. Once Gilbert left after a long, intense stare, I let out a sigh and sneakily slid the scammed magic circle under the front door mat.

Well, you never know, right? It might actually work.