To cut to the chase, it was a failure.
While trying to recreate my lucky coin and learn Enchantnt, a sudden thought crossed my mind: What if I mass-produced these? Could they make money?!
Well, I ultimately scrapped the idea. As I gained a deeper understanding of Enchantnt, I realized the true nature of my lucky coin—it was a vessel of power.
It wasn’t anything as fancy as a holy relic like they called it. Figuratively speaking, it was more like heated iron. Though my power had imbued it with my Intrinsic Color, that magical property was highly unstable.
If I didn’t keep infusing it with energy, it would quickly cool down and lose its properties.
Selling such an item would be no different from a scam, where I’d say, “It was fine when I sold it. No refunds.”
So, the lucky coin business was out. It was an unrealistic venture.
Calling it a holy relic and whatnot...why’d they get my hopes up?
I felt quite bitter with the dream of duping cash evaporating. Still, it wasn’t a total loss.
I looked at the coin in my hand. While I hadn’t succeeded in imbuing it with the power of purification, mana was different.
I managed to infuse the coin with mana, successfully claiming Enchantnt as my technique. Sure, I was still in the very early stages, but it was a start.
At least my magical abilities had grown. And for now, that was enough.
After hearing my story, Fienne gave an incredulous scolding.
“Did you seriously think that could work?”
“Isn’t it free to dream?”
“Free?”
She sat beside on the bed and began wiping the blood off my face with a warm towel.
Holding up the blood-stained towel, she continued speaking.
“Enchantnt takes part of your own power and infuses it into an object. It’s like kneading bread dough, except you’re using your ntal and physical strength! Do you even realize how taxing it is? And you just went ahead so recklessly—”
“But I did try to control myself. I would’ve stopped if it got really dangerous.”
“Define really dangerous. Death? Fainting? Total exhaustion? Stop spewing nonsense and just say it—say you won’t push yourself like this again.”
I understood what she was getting at. I wasn’t stupid. This training was, at its core, about self-preservation. What was the point if it ended up damaging my health?
It was just a slightly special case this ti. I’d felt sure that pushing through would lead to sothing.
“Don’t be so hard on . I’ll give you this.”
I handed Fienne the commorative result of my first Enchantnt.
“Oh, please. What am I supposed to do with this? Don’t tell you think this is so kind of artifact. It’s just a coin sared with mana. Might as well use it to hamr nails without a hamr.”
“It’s the result of my first Enchantnt. Won’t it gain a premium when I beco a famous Enchantnt master soday?”
“Sure.”
Fienne snorted, but she pocketed the coin anyway.
Then a mont later...
“Done.”
Fienne moved back, having finished wiping my face.
“Thanks, Fienne. You really are the only one who worries about .”
“Excuse ? I wasn’t worried at all.”
Fienne huffed and got up from the bed.
“So, what now?”
“Huh?”
“You said thanks. What do you think should co next?”
“...Want a hug?”
Thwack. She tossed the towel at my face.
Apparently, that wasn’t the right answer.
“...Did you have breakfast?”
“You dare ask if I’ve eaten after causing all this chaos at the crack of dawn? No? Of course I haven’t. Thanks so much for asking.”
“In that case, may I have the honor of buying you breakfast?”
“Ugh. What should I do with that mouth of yours.”
Grumbling, Fienne headed toward the door. She paused briefly to urge to hurry up and get ready.
Apparently, that was the right answer.
I quickly began preparing to go out. Despite training all night, I felt remarkably refreshed thanks to Fienne’s power, so checking out didn’t take long.
“Got everything?”
As a final touch, I placed a single coin on the blood-soaked blanket before stepping out.
Just as I exited, the door to the next room opened, and a woman stepped out almost at the sa ti.
“...”
“...”
Given the timing, our gazes t unavoidably.
My gaze lingered on the woman’s face, drawn to the scarred, burn-like marks covering the left side...and the strange feeling she seed to exude.
***Salana had dark red hair, a long, athletic fra, and a face dominated by a striking, hideous scar.
She didn’t like being stared at because of her scar, which marred the entire left side of her face. And it wasn’t hard to guess why—who’d enjoy having their flaws openly scrutinized?
“...”
That’s why Salana was taken aback. The man from the neighboring room was staring at her, unreservedly.
What’s with this punkass?
Normally, Salana would have long pushed past him. By the ti he realized his mistake, he’d be nursing a dislocated shoulder. But she decided to hold back.
Salana unconsciously touched her face. For reasons she couldn’t quite explain, her skin condition had slightly improved overnight.
Had her efforts to get better finally paid off? For the very first ti?!
It had been so long since her scar stayed whole through the night. For once, she woke to find her pillow soft and dry, not smothered in pus. For once, she could look at the mirror while getting ready and actually smile.
She was in a good mood—good enough to easily overlook a mont of poor manners.
“Is there sothing on my face?”
Salana used a cheerful tone, playing to her public persona of a high-tier adventurer.
“Huh? Oh! I—I’m sorry...I didn’t an to.”
The man snapped out of his daze, offering an apology.
Sotis, Salana ran into fools who stared with thinly veiled contempt, and she had to break a few fingers to get them feeling sorry.
At least this man didn’t seem like he’d need such drastic asures.
“Haha, I get it. I’m quite the beauty, as you can see. It’s only natural for a man to lose himself staring at .”
Her tone eased into sothing more relaxed.
“I’m Salana, an adventurer, ranked as high-tier.”
“Ah! I’m Risir. By the way, a high-tier adventurer...? That’s incredible.”
As far as Risir knew, the average level of high-tier adventurers corresponded to the 5th rank. Soone in their 20s achieving this rank, even with noble family support, was no small feat.
“I do agree. A high-tier adventurer at my age, and with this beauty to boot? That’s why I’m letting you off the hook. For ogling .”
“Oh...! I apologize again.”
“Co on, no need to apologize. You just got lost admiring my looks, right? Anyway, Risir, it was nice eting you. Let’s et again if we have the chance.”
With that, Salana turned away to leave.
“Uh, wait a mont! Miss Salana!”
“...”
Salana inwardly frowned.
Oh for crying—why’s he being such a bother? Bloody hell.
She responded with a pleasant smile.
“What is it? Don’t tell you’re about to ask on a date?”
“Oh...While that’s certainly an attractive proposition—”
Of course, Risir wasn’t about to ask her out. Technically, he already had a prior engagent. He didn’t forget that Fienne was waiting for him outside the inn.
Still, there was a reason he’d stopped Salana. It was the sa strange feeling he’d gotten when he first encountered Todina.
Risir sensed the possibility of purification in Salana. He was certain he could help her using his power.
A high-tier adventurer, she said.
And if he could lend a hand to soone as capable as Salana and establish a positive connection, it would surely prove greatly beneficial in the future.
Moreover, Risir had co to a realization while inspecting his power the previous night—his magical abilities had grown dramatically.
Though truthfully, realized might not be the right word. Confird was likely more accurate.
Risir had already suspected he’d undergone two significant bursts of growth. He even knew when and why they’d occurred.
The first was after the incident with Rona. The second, after the Todina incident.
From this, Risir deduced a single fact: purification, for reasons he couldn’t yet explain, directly contributed to an increase in his magical power.
This was why he’d stopped Salana. eting her was practically an opportunity.
“Well? Say sothing.”
“...”
Risir hesitated, unsure how to broach the subject. Monts like this always felt painfully awkward. Pointing out soone’s problem based on a power he barely understood himself, and then offering to help using that sa mysterious power.
How could he possibly explain this to soone else?
The lucky coin...won’t work here.
This situation was nothing like Todina’s. With her, the problem had been obvious, and she had actively sought help. Handing over the lucky coin had been enough to convey his intention.
Salana was different.
I get that her scar is the issue, but...
She wasn’t expressing her problem, and she didn’t require any assistance.
If he suddenly offered her a lucky coin, claiming it might help with her facial scar...She’d probably challenge him to a duel rather than thank him.
“Haha, that’s weird. Did I mishear? If it’s nothing, I’ll be on my way alright?”
To hell with it. It’s now or never.
“Miss Salana?! Er...Please don’t take this the wrong way, but I need you to hear out. Do you happen to suffer from any chronic condition?”
“Chronic condition? You an this?”
Salana rubbed her scarred face.
“If I could possibly help cure that condition...would you believe ?”
“...”
In an instant, Salana’s deanor shifted and Risir’s hair stood on end. The subtle change in her aura was sharp, far beyond what he expected of a high-tier adventurer.
“Well? Spit it out.”
Though she retained a smile, Salana was serious underneath.
Disrespectful fools who discriminated by appearance weren’t the only ones drawn by her scar. Many others had approached her, claiming to know a way to heal her.
Without exception, they’d all been quacks or con-artists chasing the wealth of a high-tier adventurer. And none had walked away unscathed. The Black Serpent, master of the Black Hand Assassin’s Guild, had ensured they paid the price of deceit.
Behind her back, Salana’s fingers twitched as a sinister energy gathered.
The power she wielded was colorless, odorless, and formless—a phantom poison known only to those who had mastered the art of assassination to its highest peak.
A single touch with murderous intent, and the man would succumb to an inexplicable death tonight.
“Shall we move sowhere else first?”
Salana left the inn through the back door with Risir, entering a deserted alley.
***After thinking long and hard while they walked, Risir started off with a question.
“I know this is incredibly rude, but would it be alright if I touched your face for a mont, Miss Salana?”
And that got Salana pondering: Should I just kill him?
Risir misinterpreted her expression, nodding to himself as he reached out to touch her face.
“Excuse .”
For the briefest mont, the mask of the ‘easygoing high-tier adventurer’ Salana wore cracked. A man’s hand was now touching the very area she avoided.
Her eyes flashed with a chilling glare.
I may as well hear him out. See what sort of bull he’s got to shit.
All the quacks and con artists Salana t so far had tried to exploit her dical ignorance, to deceive and manipulate her with their smooth talk. Through those encounters, she realized one thing about them.
Three minutes. If anyone’s spiel lasted longer than that, it wasn’t worth listening to. And so, Risir had exactly three minutes.
He nodded, and slowly began to speak.
Salana comnced her ntal countdown, watching closely to see how this foolish conman would squander his remaining monts.
“It’s done. Would you like to check?”
“?”
***
■Salana
Level: 61
Race: Human
Class: Assassin
***
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