How to Get Girls, Get Rich, and Rule the World (Even If You're Ugly) Chapter 9: How to Give the Perfect Gift to a Spider

That night, I was going after money — even if it cost my life. Or, you know, the few hit points I had left.

The night dropped over the village like a thick velvet blanket, muffling the last sounds of life. I already knew what I was going to do. Slipped through the shadows between the alleys, every step carefully placed on the damp gravel until I got there: the tavern.

The back door of the tavern was like a shared secret between and Lina — even if she didn't know it yet.

The wood was damp, slling of stale beer and firewood smoke soaked deep into the grain. I placed my hand on the knob carefully, like I was cracking open soone's diary. The rusty tal squealed, a polite little warning, but I twisted harder until the latch gave way with a satisfying click.

That's when I stepped in.

Inside, the tavern was another world — stuffy, warm, and buzzing. The gloom was broken by the flickering flas of oil lamps clinging to crooked iron mounts on the walls. The sll of roasted at, spilled ale, and burnt wood created the kind of alchemy only a rundown village tavern could summon.

There were stacked crates, barrels stamped with half-faded transport brands, and dirty rags hanging like makeshift curtains between the back and the main room.

The wooden floor creaked under my silent steps. I could hear voices laughing on the other side of the wall. The tune of a badly tuned flute mingled with the laughter — the sound of a night lived by people who had already drowned their broken hearts and betrayals in cheap drinks.

I passed a pile of crates and turned into a narrow corridor that led... sowhere. That's when I pulled back a thick linen curtain — and almost tripped over destiny.

"AAAAH!"

Lina.

She jumped back, wide-eyed, holding a dish towel to her chest like it was a shield. She wore the usual waitress uniform, but there was sothing that made her stand out — the vest clung to her waist like it had been sculpted there, and her red hair, ssily tied, had rebel strands dancing around her freckled face.

"What... How did you get in here?!"

I put a finger to my lips, smiling. "Shh... This is my secret entrance."

She gave a nervous laugh but didn't step back. "You're insane."

"My therapist used to say that all the ti."

She looked confused — not surprising. She didn't exactly know what a therapist was. But she gave that little laugh people do when they don't get the joke but want to pretend they did.

"I need sothing that... catches fire easily," I said, leaning an elbow on the makeshift counter in the storage room, looking her straight in the eyes.

She froze mid-fold, narrowing her eyes like she was trying to figure out if I'd actually said what she thought I said. "What do you an, 'catches fire easily'?"

"Easy. Quick. Strong." I paused, choosing my words like a true professional. "I'm going back. To the cave."

The smile she'd had since I showed up disappeared instantly. "You're kidding."

"I never joke about things that can kill ," I said, coating my voice with just the right touch of irony.

She crossed her arms, hugging her elbows.

"The spider's still there?"

"Yep. But this ti, I'm ready."

Lina shook her head and turned away. For a mont, I thought that was it. Conversation over. The muffled sounds of the tavern kept going — clinking glasses, voices tangled in alcohol. But in here, the air had thickened. Yeast, smoke, and the sweet rot of fruit filled every corner.

"You're going back there... why?" she asked, still not facing .

"Honestly? I need money. In this world, I'm nobody without coin. Actually, I'm nobody in any world."

Silence.

"Hey, don't look like that," I said. "Look, I promise — if I make it back in one piece, maybe I'll share a little sothing with you from what I dig up."

She chuckled and walked to a little hatch that led to a narrow staircase.

"Follow ."

We went down together.

The basent was damp and ssy, full of wooden barrels marked with faded numbers, dusty glass bottles, and soaked cloths hanging from ropes. A pungent sll of raw alcohol hit my nose like a slap from reality.

"It's not exactly legal to sell this stuff, so..." She crouched and pulled a dark bottle from a hidden compartnt between two barrels. "We call it 'Dragon's Throat.' Fernted with black root, burnt sugar, and so other ingredients it's better not to ask about."

She handed the bottle — with hesitation.

| Analyzing item... |

| ITEM REGISTERED: Dragon's Throat

| CATEGORY: Fernted Beverage / Flammable

| CLASSIFICATION: Alchemical – Grade C

| ORIGIN: Handmade, Ashveil Tavern (Basent)

| SYSTEM NOTE: Item added to Common Items Almanac.

| NEW SKILL UNLOCKED: Improvised Combustion I

Now we're talking. All I wanted in that mont was to set that damned spider on fire.

"You said you weren't going to help ," I said, trying not to smile.

"Yeah, well... I'm really bad at saying 'no' when soone says they're off to fight a giant spider."

So I gave her a tight hug — nearly dropped the bottle.

"Thanks, Lina. Seriously."

"Try to co back in one piece," she said, half awkward, half sincere.

"No doubt, kitten." I flashed a grin.

Then I ran out the back door of the tavern like a rat sprinting from the light. The cold night air bit at my arms the mont the wind caught up to , but I didn't care.

I had a bottle wrapped in an old rag pressed to my chest — Lina's gift — and all my junk packed tight in the backpack on my back.

The trail to the forest didn't seem so threatening anymore. Now I knew what was out there.

I walked in the dark for a while, the only sounds being the forest watching . A rustle here, a crack there — all quiet whispers reminding I didn't belong. But if there's one thing I've learned in life, it's this: the best outcos never co from safe decisions.

In fact, the bigger the risk, the better the reward.

Once I felt far enough from the village, I stopped. Took a piece of linen cloth from my bag, soaked it with the gift Lina gave — Dragon's Throat, subtle na — and wrapped it around the tip of a dry stick. Then I used my freshly acquired magic to toss a tiny fireball and light the fla.

And boom — a torch. Off I went.

"What should I na the spider I'm about to obliterate?" I thought to myself, getting closer to the cave. I could see its entrance lit faintly by moonlight filtering through the trees.

"I hereby na her Clotilde. Lady Spider Clotilde!"

UPDATING ALMANAC...

| NA: Rift Guardian Spider > Clotilde

| SPECIES: Aracnidae Ignavus

| LEVEL: 5

| TYPE: Beastly Monster / Territorial Guardian

| RANK: B (Regionally Dangerous)

That made laugh — the system actually updated the spider's na. Everything was going right. I was honestly starting to feel excited.

The cave entrance looked smaller than I rembered.

I held the Dragon's Throat bottle like I was showing off the Holy Grail. The difference? This "Holy Grail" slled like mildew and bottled death.

But I pretended it was a divine relic.

Sotis, confidence is just a good lie you tell yourself.

"Lady Clotilde," I murmured with mock bravado. "I brought you a little gift."