Chapter 33: Not Like Old

“So, you’ve really thought it through?”

“Well… it’s something like that—better than doing nothing.”

“As for risks—I can handle them. More importantly, if we’re partnering, we should share information…”

Once again, at dawn, I visited Darryl.

As usual, it was the Marlin Tavern near the port, the same private room.

The half-elf warrior gave me a noncommittal glance, then sighed after a long pause.

“Alright, my little mage, let’s see… where to start?”

Knock, knock, knock—the door opened, and a server entered with a mug of ale on a tray.

“Oh—that’s mine,” Darryl said, stopping to let the server set it down and leave.

She grabbed the wooden mug and took a big gulp.

‘This woman… drinking first thing in the morning?’

I thought, but Darryl spoke slowly.

“Let’s start with… how much you know about this.”

I’d hoped she’d go first, but she held the reins.

I shared everything I knew.

Darryl nodded, seeing through my source.

“I get it—your info’s from the Adventurers’ Guild notices, right? Not bad, finding that obscure place.”

“Uh… anything wrong with it?”

“Not wrong, just outdated. The Guild has no spies—those notices are secondhand info from others. Oh, those terms you mentioned? I submitted them myself.”

“Is… that so?”

I opened my mouth.

“What’s the latest, then?”

“The latest…”

Darryl took another sip.

“The fight’s no longer in Romern.”

“Not in Romern? Where, then?”

I frowned.

“At the so-called Roen ancient city ruins, of course,” Darryl sneered.

“It’s not just the alchemical workshop versus dock gangs anymore. Local lords, Romern’s city guard, workshop folks, gangs, and hired merchant mercenaries—they’ve carved up the ruins, surrounding it tight.

Freelance adventurers can only watch from the sidelines.”

“That big a deal?”

I was stunned.

“What’s this about?”

“It’s… a lost kingdom’s treasure, after all,” Darryl said.

“When the outer ruins surfaced years ago, some got rich, others regretted missing out. This time, they’re staking claims early.”

“So, the inner ruins’ location—any solid leads?”

I asked, mouth agape.

“Nope,” Darryl said.

“But they probably think whoever has the scroll will end up at the ruins. Surround it, wait, and trap me like a turtle in a jar.”

Darryl drained her ale, slamming the mug on the table.

I studied her expression, hesitating.

“So… will you show up?”

“Nah—I’m not interested in ruin treasures,” Darryl denied.

“Really?”

I eyed her skeptically.

The mastermind who nabbed the scroll, claiming no interest in treasure?

Like a tycoon swearing off money.

“Well… I grabbed the scroll for reasons other than treasure,” Darryl said, scratching her head.

“Because of Ouen—”

Ouen—I paused, recalling the alchemist from the Mercury Workshop who identified the scroll.

Darryl continued.

“That guy—I was his regular, sort of. Ten years back, at his southern shop, I’d buy potions or beast-repellent powder, restock when passing through.

A couple years ago, I heard he moved to Romern. This time, I came to catch up and shop.

When I got to the Mercury Workshop and met Ouen, he was off—clutching that tattered scroll, muttering about ‘Roen’s alchemy revealing truth, all a Standard Guild conspiracy.’

I thought, ‘Poor guy, driven mad by certification exams…’

Kids like you might not know, but every few years, alchemists face the All-Domain Standard Alchemy Guild’s skill audits, or they can’t sell.”

“Don’t get so heavy…”

I grimaced.

“Then what?”

“Then? You know the rest. He fled with the scroll, got caught by the gang. For old times’ sake, I infiltrated to save him, but he was dying when I arrived. He left me a last word and passed.”

“Last word?”

A bad feeling stirred in me.

“Yeah, last word…”

Darryl stared at the ceiling.

“He said the Roen ruin scroll mustn’t hit the market… so I took it.”

As she spoke, Darryl stood, lifting her dress.

I’d thought she was unarmed, but her legs were strapped with pouches, two short swords sheathed on either side, hidden by the skirt.

“So skirts work like that…”

My eyes widened.

If I got Kritiya a setup like that, we could surprise enemies on the road, draw weapons, and fend them off—Nolan would look at me in awe—

No, wait, never mind…

Not lifting my skirt in front of him.

“What’re you spacing out for?”

Darryl pulled a yellowed scroll from a pouch and set it on the table.

“Here it is—take a look.”

I snapped back, eyeing the faded scroll.

“Uh… any traps on it?”

Recalling her story about Ouen, I sensed something off.

“Who knows? I said risks are on you—not joking,” Darryl said with a cold smile.

I stared at the scroll, thinking.

If it’s a magical artifact, magic should handle it—

“Need me to step out?”

Darryl asked, sensing my magic stirring.

I shook my head.

“No, just a small spell.”

The black magic from the evil god—Eye Within Eye—boosts caster intuition, detecting traces of magic, sorcery, or spirits.

Ugh—I’d rather not use it.

Long-term use might permanently alter my eyes, but once or twice…

I cast the spell, looked at the scroll, and fell silent.

“What? See anything?”

Darryl asked, curious.

“I’m clueless about spells.”

“Well… this is an ancient Roen Kingdom artifact, right? How long ago did that kingdom fall?”

“Seven, eight thousand years, I think?”

Darryl propped her chin.

“Why?”

“Uh…”

I picked up the scroll, examined it closely, then stopped the spell.

In just seconds, my eyes ached, vision blurring.

“Seven, eight thousand years… but this scroll doesn’t look that old, does it?”

I rubbed my eyes and said.

***

“Hmm~ humm~”

In the Magic Goods shop, Nolan hummed a village tune, sorting papers from the Adventurers’ Guild, looking cheerful.

“Oh—Mr. Cyril, your singing could make skeletons bang on their coffins in protest,” Leyak, behind the counter, sipping tea and reading, finally snapped sarcastically.

“Ah—sorry,” Nolan scratched his head.

“Was the song bad?”

“It’s your whole voice—like it’s been kissed by a viper. Trust me, silence is your best bet.”

Nolan opened his mouth, then went quiet.

“Alright—show me what you copied,” Leyak sighed.

Nolan handed over the papers.

He’d done this three or four days, getting faster.

Leyak flipped through, eyes thoughtful.

“You copied these—what do you make of them?”

He looked up at Nolan.

“Me?”

Nolan blinked.

“It’s… amazing, a place for posting and taking jobs…”

“I’m asking what info you noticed, not your feelings.”

Nolan recalled the notices he’d copied, thinking.

“Well… I think…”

“Lots of requests are buying something called ghost moss—more each day.”

“Exactly,” Leyak nodded.

“It grows in underground ruins. Rising off-market demand means normal channels are blocked.”

He stood, looking at Nolan.

“I’ve got a new task for you—pay’s included, how about it?”