Damien stood at the edge of the cobblestone path, staring at the modest building before him. It looked nothing like an orphanage—no signs of children or caretakers, no playful laughter echoing from within.
Instead, the structure was quiet, with a small wooden sign hanging above the door. Even the writingbin the sign has long since vanished making the sign appear empty.
His instincts prickled, and he hesitated. He had sensed it earlier but chose to ignore it, trusting the girl’s offer to help. Now, however, doubt crept in.
He stopped walking and called out to her. “Where are you taking us? I thought we were going to the orphanage.”
The girl paused, turning to face him. Her brown eyes sparkled with amusement, and a soft chuckle escaped her lips.
“This isn’t the orphanage,” she admitted, “but it is necessary.”
Damien’s eyes narrowed, scanning her once more. He could sense her essence reserves—not particularly threatening, but enough to mark her as someone skilled. At least to an extent.
The girl continued, seemingly unbothered by his scrutiny. “This is a shop that sells healing potions. I figured we should clean him up before taking him back. Showing up with him all battered would only make his guardians worry more.”
Damien scratched the back of his head, feeling a twinge of embarrassment for having jumped to conclusions. “I see. My apologies.”
She muttered something under her breath, too low for most to hear, but Damien caught it easily. “Cute.”
His silver eyes snapped to her, curious. “What’s cute?”
Her expression froze in surprise before she quickly waved him off. “You must have misheard me,” she said, her tone flustered. Then, without another word, she hurried into the shop, leaving Damien and Milo behind.
Damien shrugged, too tired to argue. “That was weird,” he murmured, following her inside.
Inside the shop, shelves lined with colorful vials and bottles greeted them. Each potion sparkled faintly, its contents hinting at magical properties. A small bell sat on the counter, which the girl rang lightly.
Ding! Ding!
Moments later, a middle-aged woman emerged from a door behind the counter, her apron stained with the residue of herbs and alchemical ingredients.
“Hello, young ones. How may I help you both today?” She greeted them warmly, her eyes briefly lingering on Milo’s battered state.
“Well, we need healing potions that we can use on the kid as he’s suffering cuts and bruises that will only continue to hurt him if left unattended to.” The girl explained their situation, and the shopkeeper produced two vials: one to be ingested and the other for topical application. “Twelve gold coins,” the woman said, placing the vials on the counter.
Damien frowned, realizing he had no coins. “Do you accept essence cores as payment?”
The woman shook her head firmly. “I only deal in coins—silver or gold.”
Before Damien could figure out his next move, the girl spoke up. “I’ll cover it.”
With a faint smile, she handed over the gold coins. Damien watched silently as the first potion was given to Milo, who drank it hesitantly. The second was carefully applied to his wounds, the healing effects almost immediate.
Damien turned to the girl. “Thank you.”
She tilted her head, clearly puzzled. “For what?”
“For going out of your way to help,” he said. “You didn’t have to.”
She shook her head, brushing off his gratitude. “I expect to be paid back. In full.” Her tone was teasing, but the twinkle in her eye suggested she wasn’t entirely joking.
After Milo’s condition improved, the girl led them out of the shop and onto the bustling streets again. “We need to visit an essence merchant next,” she explained. “That’s where you’ll pay me back.”
Milo, now walking comfortably on his own, followed her lead with Damien close behind. The girl’s confidence and familiarity with the town intrigued Damien, though he kept his questions to himself for now.
When they reached the essence merchant’s shop, Damien was greeted by rows of display cases filled with glowing cores of various sizes and colors. Behind the counter stood a burly man with sharp eyes, his demeanor all business. Damien immediately knew he had to haggle or he would lose a lot.
Prices were discussed, and Damien learned the value of the cores he carried.
Grade Seven cores fetched fifteen gold coins each.
Grade Six cores were worth twice that of Grade Seven.
Grade Five cores doubled again in value.
For the higher grades, Damien didn’t bother asking. He didn’t want to be suspected for holding something so precious.
Damien nodded thoughtfully before declaring, “I’ll sell thirty Grade Seven cores and five Grade Six.”
The merchant’s eyes widened slightly at the sheer volume but quickly nodded, eager to make the transaction. Damien retrieved the cores from Luton’s storage again. This time, it was done without summoning the slime entirely, and the glowing orbs were carefully examined and weighed.
When the deal was done, Damien held a pouch filled with gold coins. He immediately turned to the girl and handed her twice what she had spent on the potions.
She raised an eyebrow. “This is more than I paid.”
“Consider it interest,” Damien said with a smirk.
The girl tucked the coins away, her expression thoughtful. “You’re full of surprises,” she remarked. “Tell me—are you a Mercenary Dunter?”
Damien paused, the term catching him off guard. A Dunter—short for Demon Hunter. The truth wasn’t far from that, but he hesitated before answering.
“Yes,” he said simply. “Something like that.”
She studied him for a moment before nodding, seeming satisfied with his answer.
With their business at the essence merchant concluded, Damien turned to the girl. “I still need a few more things. Do you know where I can buy new clothes and some food supplies?”
The girl smiled, her eyes glinting with amusement. “Of course. Follow me.”
She motioned for him to follow, and as they walked, Damien felt a strange sense of calm. He still didn’t know her name, but something about her presence put him at ease. “She seems very knowledgeable about the place.”