She sighed; the answer was obvious. "I'm sorry you spent so much," she whispered. "We were just buying food..." The extravagance weighed on her. She didn't need these relics. The thought of Ronan spending so much seed wrong. She wasn't accustod to such wealth. Her focus was on simplicity, survival, and inexpensive magic. Why had he done it?
"Don't apologize; it's a small amount," Ronan said easily, smiling. His words were gentle, dismissive. Six thousand gold coins for thirteen-hundred-year-old artifacts was a bargain, especially since they were mage tools. She didn't need much history to understand their value. But even so, the sum seed absurd.
Too bad this wasn't the modern world; with Wind Spirit Moon Shadow, no artifact would escape him. He wouldn't let outsiders have them. He dismissed the thought, smiling wryly. He wasn't focused on ownership. The artifacts were tools , for his purpose. What mattered was their use, how they advanced his knowledge or goals. It wasn't the objects, but the action, the mont, the now.
"Six... thousand?" Frieren's eyes widened. Six hundred, not six thousand? Six thousand gold coins was more than a village earned in a year, more than a family saw in multiple lifetis. It was enormous, almost fantastical.
Adventurers earned two or three gold coins a month at most. Six thousand was three thousand months' inco , two hundred and fifty years. That kind of wealth could change a family's fortune for generations. It was unthinkable. Ronan had spent what an adventurer would earn in several lifetis.
Even if Frieren didn't care about money, it was hard to ignore the absurdity. Money was a tool, a ans to acquire necessities. But this wasn't necessary; it was indulgent, lavish.
A question ford: , How much money does Ronan have?
The more she thought about it, the more it gnawed at her. Six thousand ant at least thirty thousand. And judging by his attitude, it was probably over a hundred thousand. He'd dropped that amount like it was nothing.
Why was a Hero so wealthy? Was he a prince? Or from so forgotten line of nobility? Maybe he'd inherited unimaginable riches. What kind of person was he, really? What did he want? Frieren couldn't understand, not when he made it all seem so effortless. It was as if he'd claid this world for his own, without the usual constraints.
It wasn't surprising she was overthinking; Ronan's attitude towards money was different. He didn't treat it like a scarce resource. To him, it was a tool, a ans, not an end. She was used to scarcity, to careful allocation. Money was survival, security. To him, it was like air.
She imagined him having lived a life of luxury. But was that the truth? Ronan was a mystery. Every ti she thought she had him figured out, sothing slipped through her understanding.
Frieren looked at Ronan, her attitude subtly changing. If he was a prince, she couldn't be casual. The thoughts spun in her mind. She could imagine the power soone with such wealth could wield. It made her feel small, insignificant.
"What are you thinking, Frieren?" Ronan chuckled, interrupting her thoughts. "It's done; whether it's worth it is irrelevant. I think it's worth it; it makes happy. And it's important that you're happy. It would be wasted on soone who doesn't appreciate it. Accept them."
His words were simple, sincere. Ronan wasn't concerned with value in the way Frieren was. To him, it wasn't about wealth or status , it was about the mont, the gesture. He wasn't buying her affection; he was trying to make her happy.
The weight of it all , the gold, the tools, the debt , began to lift. Frieren couldn't fully reconcile with what he'd done, but she felt his sincerity. She wasn't sure what to say, but the unease lted away, replaced by sothing warr. Ronan wasn't trying to control her; he was sharing sothing he thought would bring her joy.
It was a strange feeling. But for now, she would accept it.
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