Clayton simply scoffed at everything unfolding around him. He couldn’t care less about the mockery.
Without saying much, he quickly pulled out a few scrolls from his satchel.
"Alright, everyone," he said casually. "It’s true—I don’t have anything valuable, unlike what so people claim. So, shalessly, I’ll just show you a few worn-out scrolls I made myself. Please don’t be too disgusted."
He then displayed several magic scrolls: a Pollution Scroll, a Water Bullet Scroll, and a Rainfall Scroll. He deliberately kept the Purification Scroll to himself.
At first, no one paid much attention. After all, as Hope had pointed out—what could a lowly farr like Clayton possibly have? But when a few people took a closer look at the carvings on the scrolls, curiosity began to stir.
Lately, Clayton had beco increasingly skilled at crafting lower-tier, one-star magic scrolls. His work even rivaled that of professional scroll-makers.
Before long, a few participants began purchasing his scrolls. Others offered useful trinkets in exchange. Hope, watching Clayton effortlessly draw attention once again, could only grit his teeth.
"Damn it, this guy’s as slippery as ever," he muttered.
anwhile, Arowmfa and a few others eyed Clayton with growing curiosity. He just kept surprising them.
Once the transactions were done, Clayton returned to his seat. The atmosphere around him had noticeably shifted—people were now more friendly and open. And with good reason: he’d shown he had sothing of value. Clayton accepted the change with calm confidence.
The item exchange continued. Clayton watched quietly, still unimpressed by the offerings so far.
Until a thin man with a mischievous glint in his eyes stepped forward.
"Hey there! Na’s Miguel, but you can call Monkey Bro! I’m an external student at the Academy of Water and Fire Magic. I host trade ets like this all the ti. You can sell anything—plants, magic tools, weird stuff, whatever! Hit up if you’re interested!"
A few people perked up, but others who knew him rolled their eyes and jeered:
"Just admit you’re a scalper!"
"More like a junk dealer!"
"Yeah, yeah, it’s Monkey the Scavenger!"
Miguel didn’t seem fazed in the slightest. He nodded proudly.
"Call whatever you want—as long as there’s money involved!" he replied with a beaming smile.
Normally, only other academy students dared ss with Miguel. The rest stayed quiet.
So began to frown at his greasy smile, urging him to hurry it up.
"Alright, alright, stop wasting our ti. Show your stuff already!"
Miguel nodded and began presenting his items. Unfortunately, everything looked random and worthless—’scavenger’ was a fair nickna.
Most people quickly lost interest, Clayton included.
But Miguel kept going, energetically introducing each piece. Still, no one bit. Finally, he began packing up, clearly disappointed.
Then Clayton’s voice rang out.
"Wait, Brother Miguel. I’m interested in one of your items."
Miguel’s eyes lit up—especially after seeing it was Clayton.
"Really? Which one?"
Clayton pointed to a small, unassuming stone statue. Miguel picked it up and eagerly handed it over.
Clayton examined it closely. Others nearby grew curious—maybe the statue had so hidden value?
Soone asked, "Mister, does that statue have so kind of special quality?"
Clayton blinked. "Uh..."
There was sothing intriguing about it, but how could he explain it ca from a gut feeling triggered by his Observation Entry skill?
Unfortunately, his Farr’s Intuition didn’t activate—it wasn’t related to farming. The insight he gained was minimal at best.
As he hesitated, another mocking voice cut through the air.
"No way that thing’s special! It’s just junk. Of course the junk farr and the junk scavenger would find each other!"
Miguel shot a glare. "Hope, want to deck you?"
"Go ahead and try," Hope said smugly.
"Oh, I will!" Miguel retorted, fists raised.
Clayton quickly stepped in. He wasn’t interested in a petty brawl.
"Brother Miguel, how much for the statue? I’d like to buy it."
Miguel grinned wide. "Brother Clayton! Take it as a gift. I’d love to build a good friendship with you."
Hope cackled. "See? Lowborns buttering each other up!"
Balda and Isadora exchanged subtle eye-rolls. They didn’t want to get involved with academy students.
Clayton ignored the insult and spoke firmly to Miguel. "Alright, Monkey Bro. I’d be glad to call you a friend. But this is still a transaction. Na your price—I’ll pay it."
Miguel shook his head. "No need! I an it—it’s yours."
"I can’t accept that. You’re a seller, right? No one sells for free."
Hope snickered again. "You’re fighting over junk. I could find better stuff in the trash."
Clayton and Miguel kept going back and forth until one of the event organizers finally intervened.
"Alright, you two—wrap it up. Others are still waiting their turn."
Eventually, Clayton traded a few scrolls for the statue.
The exchange continued. A few odd items piqued Clayton’s curiosity, but none tempted him enough to trade.
Once the et concluded, people began saying their goodbyes and filtering out.
Clayton didn’t leave right away. He wandered a bit to explore, but after finding nothing of interest, he decided to head ho.
As he walked down a shaded path, the bushes ahead rustled. Monts later, several small skeletons appeared—familiar ones.
Clayton smiled and gestured for them to follow him ho.
But far off in the distance, Hope watched him leave with a dark glare. A wicked smile crept onto his face.
"Hehehe... Let’s see if you’re still smiling after this, Clayton."
He darted off in the opposite direction.
anwhile, Clayton strolled leisurely with his skeletons in tow. But from past experiences, he remained alert around quiet corners.
He had expected a peaceful trip ho—but soon, he realized he was being followed.
Whether the stalker was careless or simply didn’t care about being seen, their movents were obvious. Clayton couldn’t pretend not to notice.
It seed soone had mistaken him for an easy target. Instead of waiting to be ambushed, he decided to strike first.
He turned into a secluded alley and abruptly spun around.
At once, he and his skeletons raised their hands in sync—fingers pointed like guns—aid straight at the pursuer.
But when Clayton saw who it was, his expression changed.
"You... Why is it you?" he asked, eyes wide with disbelief.
Reviews
All reviews (0)