She stood still.
Her fingers curled into her palm, the warmth of the table still lingering.
He won.
By reading the flow of the game like a musician with his notes, and responding at the exact right beat.
She felt it—a flutter in her chest. Not frustration. Not anger.
Excitement.
True, pure, thrilling excitement.
The silence was broken by a sudden crack in the air.
It wasn't physical—but the pressure that filled the room was tangible.
Arista.
The sword saintess stood behind her, expression blank, but the heat radiating from her Aura was enough to cause the dealer to tremble violently, his nose already bleeding.
The cards on the table rippled under the weight of her pressure.
"Stop," Lena said firmly, placing a hand on her knight's wrist.
The Aura vanished like a vacuum had sucked the air clean.
The dealer collapsed, coughing and gasping for breath.
Lena let out a small laugh.
"He won fair and square. You know I hate cheaters. And besides…" she turned her eyes back toward the doors where the boy had exited, "…someone like him couldn't buy this house, much less the dealer."
She tilted her head back, smiling.
It was strange.
She lost.
And it felt…
Wonderful.
She finally felt something again.
The frozen flame in her chest sputtered—and ignited.
"Vancroft," she whispered under her breath,
"You'll make my world very, very fun."
***
My back was drenched in sweat.
My legs were weak.
I sat outside the obsidian chamber, perched awkwardly on a cushioned bench, trying to catch my breath like a man who had just climbed out of a collapsing mine.
"Damian," I muttered under my breath, "was that worth it?"
[Given the coin and the influence gained, probability suggests it was an optimal path.]
Easy for him to say. He didn't nearly lose his limbs.
The obsidian vault creaked open behind me and a staff member approached.
A small ornate box was in his hand.
"Your winnings, Mister Lovecraft," he said with a strained voice.
Inside: forty platinum coins, converted from the gold I'd won.
Enough to turn a street orphan into a nobleman overnight. Enough to fund my rune materials purchase for this year.
I accepted the box with trembling hands.
"That was something else" I muttered, "I just wanted to earn some money in peace."
"Why did I have to run into heroine-type monsters?"
I felt the weight of the ring still on my finger—the mana-suppressor that had sealed me throughout the game.
I stared at it for a second before slipping it off.
"Never again," I whispered.
Now I had what I needed.
The funds to finally work on the most critical advancements: Aura runes—which allowed me to use weapons and sixth circle runes that would be my advancement."
I was already building the list in my head.
Everything was falling into place.
Then I saw them again.
That same unmistakable black suit. That same black and silver armor.
Lena and Arista.
I turned my head sharply away, praying they'd walk past.
But fate wasn't that kind.
"Vanny~!" Lena's voice rang out.
Before I could escape, she had already jumped on me like a dog reuniting with its owner.
My knees buckled as she threw an arm around my shoulder with way too much familiarity.
"Did you miss me?" she teased, voice sweet and deadly.
"I—I didn't—" I stammered, trying to twist out of her grip.
"I've decided," she declared dramatically.
"We're friends now!"
I tried to speak. "No tha—"
I stopped.
Because behind her, Arista had drawn close—expression blank, but her hand casually rested on her sword hilt.
I looked at her.
She looked at me.
I gave in.
"…Okay. We're friends," I said with a defeated sigh.
"Great!" Lena clapped happily. "Oh, right—this is for you!"
She pulled a silver ring from her pocket and handed it to me.
A spacial ring.
My eyes widened.
These things cost more than a small house.
"Drop your blood on it," she said with a grin. "It's yours. I even stocked it with another hundred gold coins. Call it a friendship gift."
I stared at her in disbelief.
Another One hundred gold coins?
She's insane.
She turned on her heels, Arista trailing just behind like a silent shadow.
"We'll meet again soon!" she called over her shoulder.
I watched them go, heart still racing, the ring clenched in my hand.
Once I was sure they were gone, I let out the breath I didn't know I was holding.
"Hopefully not," I muttered.
Then I looked at the ring again… and smiled faintly.
***
The confirmation came through a few hours after I placed the order.
Everything had been processed. Materials, tools, and equipment—all done.
The shop owner even bowed slightly as he handed me the receipt.
"A pleasure doing business, sir. The liquefied mana stones and that sword were all prepared , you'll be pleased."
I offered a nod and adjusted the collar of my newly bought shirt.
It was a crisp, charcoal-gray button-up, made of mana-resistant fiber that .
Over it, I wore a dark black coat, long enough to brush my knees, its lapels embroidered with thread made of silverdust.
The trousers matched the coat, fitted, practical, yet elegant—tailored to accommodate movement.
I planned to turn this outfit into more than just clothing.
With the liquefied mana stones, I could embed rune functions directly into the seams and weave.
The sword came in its own silver -lined case.
A sleek, silversteel longsword—nearly indestructible. Its surface shimmered slightly, a sign that it was forged with enchantment in mind.
The hilt was bound with obsidian leather, and the balance—perfect.
This… this was a proper weapon.
Night had begun to fall. The skies bled into a gradient of violet and navy, stars peeking through as I walked the quiet path back to the mansion.
My dusty, hollow mansion.
The creaking gate groaned as I pushed it open, the grass crunching beneath my boots.
Windows were caked with grime, and the front door had a persistent squeal every time it opened.
But not for long.
I stepped inside, dropped the sword against the wall, and pulled the large storage crystal from my ring.
It projected the delivery status. Everything I'd purchased would arrive within two days.
Time to prepare.
This place would no longer be a decaying relic.
It would be my workshop.
With a flick of my hand, I pulled out a small, black bottle. Inside was the liquefied mana—glowing faintly blue, like liquid moonlight.
I carefully unsealed the lid…
A single drop slipped out.
But instead of falling, it floated—suspended midair like an orb of mercury. It shimmered, reacting to the mana in the air.
I reached into my spatial ring and retrieved the rune pen.
It was sleek—obsidian shaft, silver tip, faint magical veins running through the handle.
The tip touched the floating mana.
The rune for Cleanliness was the first I drew.
"Purgis," I whispered, and let the shape flow—an elegant swirl, a closed loop, then three intersecting lines through the core.
The mana reacted immediately.
All at once, dust began to lift from the walls and floor, as if caught by invisible wind. Cobwebs disintegrated, grime peeled off glass like old paint.
The windows gleamed. The floorboards returned to their original shine, and the very air smelled like fresh mountain breeze.
I smirked. "Finally."
Next—Restoration.
"Reficio." The strokes were longer now, more precise.
I guided the pen through the air as if conducting a symphony.
Cracks along the walls mended themselves.
Dents in furniture popped back into place. The torn tapestry on the second floor stitched itself together before my eyes, the golden crest restored with shining detail.
And finally—Levitation.
"Levo."
I drew a cube of interlocking spirals and circles.
The furniture began to float.
Chairs, shelves, tables, crates—all gently rising from the floor.
I began rotating them midair, pushing and pulling with my intent.
The mansion rearranged itself like a puzzle.
The work desk floated to the center, the broken chandelier from above descended, hovered, then latched itself back into the ceiling—fixed.
Cabinets lined the walls, hovering until I locked them into their new spots.
My workbench floated toward the back of the room, along with the shelves of materials I planned to use.
In less than ten minutes, the mansion no longer resembled a dusty relic.
It was a functional, glowing, fitting for a place that is home.
I lowered the pen, letting the last of the liquid mana float back into its container. A small spark trailed behind as the runes dimmed into soft inscriptions on the air before vanishing.
I stood in the middle of it all—clean, restored, silent.
And I smiled.
"…Now this," I said quietly, "is more like it."