Chapter 218: A Conversation With My Diminutive, Annoying Landlord
I shut the door to my room and leaned against it, letting out a long exhale. The chaos of the living room faded, replaced by blessed silence.
The early afternoon light filtered through my half-drawn blinds, casting elongated shadows across the floor.
I crossed to the desk where I’d placed Bartholow’s terrarium. The immortal snail was thodically devouring a piece of lettuce, his tiny mouth working with relentless determination.
He seed completely unbothered by the morning’s drama or my near-death experience with Braxton. The little gastropod’s single-minded focus was almost enviable.
"Well, Bartholow," I said, tapping lightly on the glass, watching as he continued his al without pause. "That went about as expected. Got my ass handed to , established dominance over the pack through strategic humiliation, and made Natalia jealous enough to stake her claim publicly. All in all, a productive morning."
Bartholow continued munching his lettuce, utterly unimpressed by my scheming. His indifference was sohow both insulting and refreshing. Here was the one entity in my life who couldn’t be manipulated, couldn’t be seduced, and couldn’t care less about my grand designs. There was sothing pure about that.
"You’re right," I agreed with his silent judgnt, running a finger along the edge of his terrarium. "Action speaks louder than words. And it’s ti for so significant action."
I sat on the edge of the bed, wincing slightly as my bruised muscles protested. Every inch of my body ached from Braxton’s "lesson." I could still feel the phantom impact of his fists, the way he’d tossed
around like a rag doll.
I pulled up my status screen with a thought. The familiar blue light illuminated my face with its ethereal glow, casting my features in sharp relief against the shadows of my room. My eyes widened at what I saw.
SATORI NAKANO
Level: 1 | Schema Points: 524
Five hundred SP—from the quest to land a hit on Braxton—plus twenty-four from Natalia’s passive generation. The number glowed with promise, with potential. It was a validation of my approach, a sign that even in defeat, I was moving forward.
My queen was already paying dividends. I smiled at the thought of her, of how she’d staked her claim so openly this morning. How perfectly she’d fallen into the role I’d designed for her. She was evolving from conquest to asset, from target to weapon.
I checked my stats. They hadn’t moved, still hovering at values that made
dangerous to most normal students but laughably weak compared to soone like Braxton. The progress was there, but it was incrental, painfully slow. No point wasting this windfall on such ager improvents. Not when I could gamble for a kingdom.
I glanced at Bartholow, who had paused his leafy feast to extend his eyestalks in my direction. In the dim light of my room, his tiny eyes seed to glimr with an almost knowing intelligence.
"Ti to talk to the landlord, buddy. Let’s see what’s for sale." I picked at a loose thread on my bedspread, ntally calculating my odds. "The question is, do I play it safe, or do I roll the dice?"
Bartholow’s answer was to retract slightly into his shell before erging again, a motion that looked almost like a shrug.
I closed my eyes, focusing my will. The room around
seed to fade, the ambient sounds of the house growing distant as I concentrated. "Apollo’s Gacha Emporium."
The air in my room shimred and warped, distorting like heat waves rising from sumr pavent. Reality folded in on itself like origami paper being crumpled by an impatient child, the very fabric of space twisting in ways that hurt my eyes to follow.
A miniature tornado of golden sparkles materialized above my desk, spinning faster and faster until it collapsed into the floating, cross-legged form of Apollo’s chibi avatar.
"Well, well, well!" Apollo crooned, his perfect, miniature face splitting into a grin that was both adorable and deeply unsettling. His golden curls bounced as he bobbed in the air, his toga pristinely white against the backdrop of my cluttered room. "If it isn’t my favorite tragedy-in-the-making! How’s the academy treating you? Aside from the, you know—" He mid a punching motion, complete with cartoony sound effects that sohow carried the full impact of Braxton’s blows.
"Bam! Pow! Splat! That sparring match was exquisite. Nothing gets the ratings up like watching a protagonist get absolutely demolished! Very... character-building."
I crossed my arms, unimpressed by his theatrical display. The diminutive god’s mockery was becoming routine, a predictable preamble to our transactions. "Cut the crap, Apollo. I’ve got SP to burn. What’s the special today?"
Apollo’s tiny eyes glead with mischief, a swirl of cosmic energy dancing within his irises. He floated closer, invading my personal space with the confidence of a deity who knew I couldn’t do a damn thing about it. His toga fluttered despite the lack of breeze in my room, defying physics in that casual way immortals loved to flaunt.
"Impatient, are we? I suppose that’s to be expected from soone with your... ambitious tiline." He tapped his chin thoughtfully, his finger making a sound like a tiny bell with each tap. "Fine. For you, my star perforr, I have a very special, one-ti-only offer."
He snapped his fingers, and the sound echoed with supernatural resonance. A new banner appeared on the Gacha interface that only I could see. It glittered with gold and platinum sparkles, sending shimring reflections across my walls like underwater caustics. The sight was hypnotic, srizing in a way that made my teeth ache with desire.
"Behold!" Apollo spread his tiny arms dramatically, his voice expanding to fill the room despite his diminutive size. "A ’Welco to the Academy’ rate-up banner! For the low, low price of 350 SP, you get a five-pull where every single item is GUARANTEED GOLD-TIER OR HIGHER!" He spun in the air, trailing golden sparks that dissolved into nothing before they could touch any surface.
"That’s right! No bronze trash! No silver diocrity! Only the good stuff!"
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