—The negotiation was settled, and the portable phone in hand, Romji guaranteed as much. However, "I can arrange a meeting with
"I already know full well I'm going to get fleeced. You're guaranteeing the value of this thing too, right, old man
At Subaru's easygoing attitude, Romji scowled, looking like he wanted to say something.
It was probably some manner of caution—don't let your guard down, don't underestimate the negotiation, that sort of thing. But seeing Subaru already turning red-faced from the booze he'd gulped down, a lecture seemed futile.
"Well, in truth, that may be so. If it were someone a bit more calculating, they might try to lowball you on top of the magic device… but Felt's not the crooked sort."
"Great, great, great. More importantly, old man Rom—anything better to eat than this? This tastes like garbage. I feel like I'm eating leftovers."
"Impudent, talking like that after helping yourself to my dinner. You just keep getting bolder and bolder."
Subaru pouted, shoveling paste-like beans from a chipped plate into his mouth. Gone was his earlier disgust toward the alcohol. Now he'd taken to sipping his drink between nibbles, content to refill his empty glass each time Romji poured.
"I mean, for a guy that huge, this can't be enough, right? You're not living off mist. Don't tell me you're one of those people who doesn't need food as long as they've got booze?"
"You don't know a thing about the fuel efficiency of the giant race. Despite that combat strength, we eat very little. Back when wars were common, we were famous for it all across the land."
Romji answered Subaru's ingenuous question, his stern face never softening. He lifted the bottle he'd been pouring from straight to his lips, taking a swig directly.
"That's why our numbers dwindled so much. Even in the royal capital, I haven't seen another giant in ages."
"You're strong even though you don't eat? That's incredible. Badass, even. …I think I'm gonna throw up."
"Your attitude could use some work when I'm pouring my heart out about this."
Nothing sours a mood like someone else flaunting their misfortunes. As Subaru plugged his ears and cut him off mid-sentence, Romji gave up on the story and went back to eating beans.
For a while, the two of them sat in silence, washing down tasteless beans with drink.
It wasn't until the light outside had slanted considerably that a peculiar knock—three quick raps—struck the storeroom door. Subaru had been dozing off, but he looked up. Responding to the sound, Romji's massive frame moved spryly toward the entrance. The door looked absurdly small compared to the giant's bulk. He pressed his ear against it, peering through with a solemn expression.
"Big Rat."
"Poison."
"Skeleton."
"Pit trap."
"Our noble Dragon Lord."
"Damned piece of shit."
Short questions, instantaneous answers. Those must be the signal and passphrase. Romji nodded in satisfaction and undid the lock. Watching his broad back, Subaru mentally complained about the crass passphrase. Then— "Kept you waiting, old man Rom. Tougher mark than I expected. Took me a while to close the deal."
With familiar ease—boasting of her triumph—a single girl slipped past Romji and into the storeroom. She was a golden-haired girl with semi-long hair, ruby-red eyes like a rabbit's, and a mischievous pair of fangs peeking from the corner of her mouth. Her petite frame was wrapped in clothes that, to put it diplomatically, were raggedy—but easy to move in.
Though it had only been a moment, there was no mistaking her—the girl he'd stumbled upon in the back alley.
At the sight of this familiar face, Subaru instinctively stood. The creak of his chair drew her attention, and the girl's earlier grin vanished, replaced by a look of deep suspicion.
"Huh? Who the hell are you? Hey, old man Rom. I told you I was bringing in a big fish, so nobody else should be in here, didn't I?"
"I understand how you feel, lass, but this boy is here on business with you—Felt. Well, it's not entirely unrelated."
At Romji's answer, Felt's expression grew even more distrustful. She unconsciously pressed a hand to her chest—the stolen prize was probably in there. Receiving Subaru's silent gaze, Felt looked uneasy and turned back to Romji.
"What's the deal with that guy?—Don't tell me you sold me out."
"I'd never pull a stunt like that. Besides, I don't think it'll be a bad deal for you either."
Romji closed one eye and went, "Well?" soliciting agreement. Subaru experienced the rare and unsettling sensation of being winked at by an old geezer, then gave a small nod of confirmation.
Then, choosing his words carefully toward Felt, who still hadn't dropped her guard— "For starters, let's calm down. I don't have any ill will toward you—bleeeghghghghh—"
—Choosing his words, that is, until the surge of nausea overwhelmed him and everything came spewing out.
"AAAGHAAAGHHHAAAGH—!!"
At Subaru's sudden vomit, the other two shrieked.
Subaru himself dropped to his knees, clutching his stomach as he expelled every last bit of its contents. The amber of alcohol mixed with the color of bean paste, producing the worst artistic collaboration imaginable.
"What do you mean 'not a bad deal'? This is the worst!!"
"*I'm* the one having the worst time here! My dinner and booze—stolen right from me! Booze is priceless! Priceless, I tell you!?"
"Shut up! Stop yelling! It hurts enough as it is without you screaming in my ears! I'm gonna be sick—bleeeghghgh—"
"AAAGHAAAGHHHAAAGH—!!"
Overwhelmed once again by a fresh wave, Subaru's feeble spirit crumbled, and the two screams echoed on.
—From the moment Subaru emptied his stomach, through the cleanup of his mess, through the ventilation of the stale air he'd spawned, until Romji handed down his decree of "Alcohol Ban," the ruckus tore through the slum's twilight for an impossibly long time.
—Night deepened.
*** "All right, let's pull ourselves together and get down to business!"
Clapping his hands, Subaru spoke as if sweeping away the exhausted atmosphere. The location had shifted from the counter side of the storeroom to a small table near the back. The counter side still bore the lingering remnants—stench and stains—of the earlier incident, and Felt had flatly refused to negotiate there.
Seated at the same table, Felt tilted a glass of milk that Romji had poured for her. The wariness hadn't left her red eyes; if anything, a healthy dose of distrust and distaste had piled on top. This was going to be rough right out of the gate.
"Don't make that scary face—smile, smile! You'll ruin that cute little face of yours!"
"Drop the schmoozing, bro. The only thing I care about is whether the goods you're bringing to the table are worth money or not. So how about we cut the crap and get to the point?"
Subaru pressed a finger to his cheek, doing his absolute best to seem friendly, but Felt's reaction was ice-cold. In this world as well, every single one of Subaru's social overtures swung and missed. A power that transcended worlds—the absolute force of loneliness.
"I thought I'd left everything behind, but that one thing just won't let me go, huh? Heh heh heh. Funny how that works, don't you think?"
"Hey, old man Rom. This milk's not watered down, is it? It tastes awful."
"Everyone's got something to complain about when you go out of your way to serve them…"
Ignoring Subaru, who was lost in his own world, Felt and Romji seemed to be having a reasonably pleasant time. Subaru cleared his throat and gathered both their gazes.
"So, let's talk business. Felt.—You've got the insignia, right?"
"…Yeah, I've got it."
Straight to the point—Subaru's direct approach. Felt answered with equal brevity, a clean affirmation. She slipped a hand into her outfit and drew something out, placing it gently on the table.
The insignia Subaru had been seeking. It was a badge bearing the design of a dragon. Roughly the size of a patch from his old world, the material was hard to determine, but it was clearly crafted from expensive metal. As far as Subaru could tell, it depicted a wyvern head-on, and at its center—the dragon's mouth appeared to be clutching a red gemstone.
The red gemstone at the insignia's heart glowed faintly, and the soft light was enough to steal Subaru's words.
Even Romji, appraising the insignia, fell silent, humming an uncertain "Hmm" under his breath.
"Now then—"
It was Felt who broke the silence, gripping the insignia. She waited for both of them to snap back to reality with that single word, then pushed the insignia across the table.
"Time for you to show your cards. This is the insignia—quite a piece of work, and I went through considerable trouble to get it. It'd be nice for both of us if what you're offering is worth matching, yeah?"
"Bad timing to test you with that grin, but I've only got one card to play. I am, after all, the world's most spectacular pauper!"
Subaru sighed inwardly—everyone always made that face the instant they heard "destitute." Setting aside those feelings, he played the strongest card he had, just as he'd declared. He slammed the portable phone down on the table. Felt's confusion was exactly what he'd expected—same reaction as with Romji. Pleased by that, Subaru activated the camera function.
"Na—tsuki Flash!"
"Whoa, that's bright!"
A sharp flash, the mechanical click of a shutter, and the image was captured. Felt looked like she wanted to complain about Subaru's utterly shameless photo-taking, but before she could open her mouth, he thrust the phone screen in front of her.
At the sight of her own image displayed there, the girl's ruby eyes went wide.
"This is…"
"That's right—it's you, Felt! This is a magic device that captures time and preserves it as images. This is the only card I can play. I'm proposing a straight swap—this for that insignia."
Leading with his strongest card from the start, Subaru tried to push the negotiation in his favor through sheer momentum. It was one of the classic power plays in negotiation—sometimes the sheer shock value alone could decide the deal.
Of course, doing so was essentially declaring that he had no stronger card, and in practical terms, Subaru had just done exactly that with his own mouth. But— "Huh, that's pretty impressive. So, old man Rom—if I sell this magic device, what kind of price are we talking?"
Felt peered at the screen, nodded with a few "hmms," and then her subsequent reaction was astonishingly nonchalant. Her eyes didn't light up. She didn't reach for the phone. Whatever curiosity she had about its function was nothing compared to her interest in the device's sheer monetary value.
"Romance of men—impossible for anyone but another man to understand, even in another world! Is that really how it works!?"
"Squeal all you want, it's pathetic. Be cool about it—you've got confidence, right? So how much is it worth, old man Rom?"
Whether to call it a brazen attitude or a strangely masculine one, Felt's composure was unshakable. Seeing that she looked two or three years younger than himself, Subaru was tempted to lean in and call her "sis." Setting aside Subaru's lack of anything remotely macho, Felt turned to Romji and asked about the phone's value. She traced a finger along the phone's side with an air of total disinterest.
"From my perspective? If this 'magic device' is worth more than this gemstone insignia, I'll be thrilled. You've got a good eye—I'm not doubting that."
"Well, I can't really put a number on it. I've never handled a magic device myself. But the insignia is quite a high-quality piece—it would still fall short of the magic device. In short, this deal is heavily in your favor. That's my conclusion."
"Nice, nice. Then I guess we're good, yeah?"
Felt seemed pleased by Romji's stamp of approval. The response wasn't quite what Subaru had expected, but the broad objective seemed achievable, and he was satisfied.
However, just as Subaru reached out to seal the deal, Felt stopped him. "Hold on."
"The card-showing phase is over for both of us. But I haven't finished my pitch yet."
"…Never a good feeling when someone announces they're about to strong-arm you. And there's nothing more I could possibly offer, anyway. I'm the penniless champion of the world."
"I'm not that bad. The old man just vouched for it—the insignia is worth more on that side, I'll admit that. But you're lying when you say you've got no more cards left to play."
Felt rose from her chair and looked down at Subaru. Her ruby eyes glistened with a sadistic gleam, and Subaru could only break into a cold sweat, feeling his inner thoughts laid bare. He'd already played his biggest bargaining chip—the phone, with its maximum impact. But in Subaru's possession remained several other assets that probably had no circulation in this world: coins from his wallet, membership cards, all of which could be converted into money under the right terms. In a pinch, even his tracksuit and sneakers might serve as a technological offering worth something.
The phone was his trump card, but he still had a few face-down cards remaining. That said, those cards were potential seed investments for his future life in this world—cards he couldn't afford to play unless absolutely necessary.
If the phone proved insufficient, he'd have no choice but to play them, though.
"Relax, I told you. I'm not planning to squeeze any more out of you. I'll be satisfied as long as this thing turns into money."
"Y-you— I'm not flustered or anything! I mean, seriously, I don't get it—I've played the cards I can play, so where's the need to panic—bleeghgh—"
"Don't push yourself past your limit and collapse! Don't puke! I'll call the whole deal off!"
Subaru was on the verge of vomiting again from the self-inflicted pressure, but he managed to reverse the reverse—forcing what had risen back down into his stomach. He swallowed hard and threw up a thumbs-up. Felt recoiled with an expression of utter disgust.
"Would've been fine if it came out, but—if you'd brought anything other than that magic device, I would've kicked you out right then and there. Absolutely."
"If you'd pulled that stunt, I'd have knocked you out first and called it a day."
Gahahaha—the two of them laughed together, actually sounding masculine for once. Enduring the acid-burn pain in his throat, Subaru prefaced with "Ugh" and asked: "So what do you mean your pitch isn't finished?"
"Hm? Oh, it's simple. You're not my only negotiation partner."
Subaru tilted his head in confusion. In answer, Felt raised a finger and said "So here's the thing": "From the start, I only swiped this insignia because someone commissioned me to. The deal was one insignia for ten Holy Gold Coins."
"Wait—this was a job? A commission theft with prior claims? Ten gold coins… I don't really know the going rate, but…"
He glanced at Romji, who nodded as if reading his thoughts.
"For this insignia, I could probably move it for four or five gold coins. If I got lowballed, maybe three."
"So a simple buy price would be double."
"No, no—I said *Holy* Gold Coins. Unlike regular coins in circulation, Holy Gold Coins are made from rare Sacred Gold. In terms of value, that's close to twenty regular gold coins."
"More than four times as much!?"
"What are you surprised about? If that magic device of yours is real, you'd get at least twenty Holy Gold Coins. And there are collectors out there who'd pay even more. We're not even talking about the same league."
It was a world where Subaru still couldn't gauge prices well, but to learn that a tier above the gold coins—the highest denomination he'd known—existed, and that twenty of those were in play, was staggering. Unwittingly, his phone—registered to fewer than ten people—began to look like a divine artifact.
It was in great condition too, having been barely used. Good thing he'd had no friends.
"Setting aside your pathetic self-consolation—if you're saying the other side will pay more, how do you plan to refuse the commission client?"
"That's what I mean by 'my pitch isn't finished.'"
Felt twisted her bratty little face into an even more wicked grin.
"Since you've gone and put up something this absurdly expensive—if the other side wants the insignia bad enough, they might add a sweetener to their offer, don't you think?"
"…So what you're saying is—if they offer twenty Holy Gold Coins or more—"
"Then you'll have to play your remaining cards and sweeten the pot too, bro. Otherwise, no deal."
She replaced "wicked" with pure, unadulterated evil and delivered the verdict with a breezy smile. Subaru felt the tide turning against him.
"And where and when are you meeting this commission client? I'll be at that negotiation table too, right?"
"Of course. If you're at a disadvantage, my cut shrinks too—who knows by how much. And don't worry about the location. —It's right here."
Felt tapped the edge of the table, leaning back in her chair as she looked up at Romji. Receiving that inverted gaze, Romji made a face that could only be described as thoroughly displeased.
"You—again, not even asking my permission before making unilateral decisions…"
"Come on, old man Rom! With you around, most people won't even think about choosing violence. Between your build and your fighting experience, just the thought of a brawl makes 'em lose their nerve."
Felt looked to Subaru for agreement, and Subaru glanced at Romji before nodding. "Yeah, yeah." A nearly two-meter-tall, muscular, bald old geezer. In fact, he'd once lifted Subaru—weighing close to seventy kilograms—with one hand like it was nothing. The chances of him being all show were slim. If a real fistfight broke out, it wouldn't even be a contest, Subaru concluded.
Romji, for his part, didn't seem displeased by the assessment.
"Oh, I suppose. Can't do anything without old me here, can you? How pathetic. Want a refill on the milk? I've got something sweet, if you'd like."
He'd turned into the sort of doting old fool who spoiled his grandchildren rotten. Felt's glass was brimming with milk as she gazed at him. Subaru watched the scene and let out an exasperated sigh.
"So from the beginning, you were planning to call that person here. With or without me, you were going to negotiate the price?"
"Obviously. Do you have any idea how much trouble it took to steal this? What if someone like me, all alone and helpless, got walked all over? That wouldn't sit well, would it?"
"'Helpless,' huh…"
Subaru looked at Felt—delicate, petite. Judged purely by appearance, the description wasn't wrong. But having witnessed her mental fortitude and sheer audacity firsthand, calling her "helpless" took quite some effort. And come to think of it, during the trials of stealing the insignia, she'd once abandoned Subaru at a life-or-death juncture. Where was she ever mentally fragile? Reflecting on it all only made his blood boil.
"Actually, hold on—do you maybe not remember me?"
"Hm? Have we met? Even if we did, it would've had to be one heck of an impression for me to recall it—I'm not exactly free, you know. And besides, bro, you've got a pretty forgettable look about you."
"Your hair color and outfit are all you've got going for you," Felt added, cackling.
Her tone carried no detectable falsehood, and having his plain appearance roasted on top of it left Subaru in shock. Perhaps in this otherworld, human sentimentality had truly gone extinct—her ability to casually forget a robbery-murder scene was proof. And yet,
"Anyway, forget my disappointing memory. When's this meeting partner showing up?"
"Don't get all snarky with me. I told him I'd be done by sunset, and he said to meet here after sundown—so it's getting about that time."
That "won't they show up?" line might have been a flag. A sharp rap—two knocks on the door—cut through the storeroom. The three exchanged glances. Romji asked Felt, "What's the passphrase?"
"Oh, I didn't give him one. He's probably my client—let me go check."
Felt sprang up and bounded toward the entrance. Subaru gave Romji a shrug, silently asking, "Is that okay?" at her brazen familiarity with someone else's home.
"Well, we're not strangers. It's been a while, and we've known each other long enough. Might as well play bodyguard, I suppose."
Romji cheerfully—happily, even—took a club from the back of the storeroom. It was about the length of a bamboo shinai, wooden by the look of it. But protruding from its tip were sparse spikes—clearly a weapon that could deliver lethal damage.
"Spike bat or something… so even in another world, clubs are standard equipment, huh."
Being handed fifty gold and a wooden stick was pretty standard RPG fare. Subaru assessed Romji's gear from the side with mild approval, never disappointed. Just then, Felt returned with an oddly warm smile.
"Turns out he was my client after all. Over this way—have a seat?"
She gestured subtly for Subaru to move aside, then directed her affections at the figure behind her. Subaru tensed, wondering if this was the negotiation partner, and felt a mild surprise—because the person Felt had invited in was a beautiful woman.
A tall woman—about the same height as Subaru, probably in her early twenties. Her features were soft and pleasant, with gently drooping eye corners, and her sickly pale skin stood out even in the dim storeroom. She wore a dark cloak, but it hung open, revealing a fitted outfit of the same color clinging to her slender but elegantly curved figure. And like Subaru, she was a rare black-haired beauty in this world. Her long hair, reaching past her back to her waist, was loosely braided, her fingertips idly toying with the ends.
An alluring, mature woman with an air of mystery—the kind of character Subaru had essentially no experience with. To put it bluntly, he was completely flustered. Psychologically outmatched from the get-go, Subaru yielded his seat to Felt without thinking. Felt sat in the vacant chair, with Romji standing to her left, club in hand, and Subaru to her right, his tension all too visible.
The woman received this rather theatrical welcome without batting an eye, tilting her head slightly.
"There seem to be quite a few outsiders present."
"We can't afford to be strong-armed. It's the wisdom of the weak. Hey, Subaru—drinks."
Ordered around by Felt's casual gestures, Subaru couldn't even muster an objection, swept along by the momentum of the situation. He selected the least dirty glass, poured milk, and brought it before the two women. The woman gave Subaru a small "Thank you" before appraising him carefully.
"I recognize the elderly gentleman, but who might this young man be?"
She'd no doubt read the air—his posture and demeanor screamed "outsider." Her question was pure curiosity, and Felt, seizing the moment, twisted her mouth into a wicked grin.
"This guy is your rival, bro. He's my other negotiation partner."
And so, just as she'd declared, the pitch began.