As the shadow of the great stone statue faded behind him and Even slipped into the market's winding alleys, his heart was still racing. The contrast was crushing: The glorious image of his father standing tall, while he stood before it like a skeletal ghost. Between the shame of his current state and the primal gnawing of hunger, Even struggled to keep his composure. He pulled the heavy, stolen blue cloak tighter. Wearing such a garment in the summer heat was madness, but it was the only way to hide his blood-stained rags.
He focused on the address Henderson had given him. The shop was located in a quiet, upscale district to the north. After some searching, he spotted a wooden signboard painted with a pair of golden scales. Outside, various strange herbs and small glass jars were displayed on cedar shelves.
Even stepped inside. A peculiar aroma hit him—a blend of cinnamon and an unfamiliar, exotic flower. Henderson was sitting behind the counter, hunched over a thick ledger. At the sound of the door chime, he looked up.
The moment he saw Even, Henderson's eyebrows shot up. His gaze locked onto the heavy blue cloak. Just last night, he had given Even a set of plain, simple clothes. Now, standing before him was a youth wearing what looked like a costly, heavy, royal-style mantle.
"Even?" Henderson closed the ledger and stepped forward, looking confused. "What... why are you in this state? And where did you get that cloak? I gave you a simple shirt and pants. Why are you wandering around in a wool mantle in the middle of a summer afternoon?"
Even knew this question was coming. He took a deep breath, his mind racing. He looked directly into Henderson's eyes and put on a bashful, embarrassed expression.
"Actually, Mr. Henderson... it's a strange story," Even began in a low voice. "This morning, while wearing the clothes you gave me, I collided with a group of travelers at a market corner. Their carriage was moving too fast. To save myself, I dove into a pile of mud by the road. The clothes you gave me were completely ruined."
Henderson took a step closer. "Good heavens! And then?"
Even added a touch of emotion to his voice. "As I stood there ashamed, an old traveler stepped out of the carriage. He expressed great regret but said he didn't have any spare common clothes. He gave me this cloak from his collection, saying it was a traditional garment from his land that protects against dust. I couldn't say no, as my own clothes were unwearable. And as for wearing it in this heat... well, I simply have nothing else. They probably didn't have anything lighter either." Even gave a faint, forced smile.
Even spoke with such sincerity that no trace of disbelief appeared on Henderson's face. Instead, he nodded with sympathy. "Ah, what a stroke of bad luck! But at least you're safe. Travelers can be quite kind sometimes. Just be careful; don't get heatstroke wearing that thing."
Even breathed a mental sigh of relief. The lie had worked.
At that exact moment, the shop door swung open loudly. An elderly woman rushed in, looking frantic. Even started—it was the old woman whose bag he had recovered! Her hair was dishevelled, and panic was etched on her face. She hurried to the counter, gasping for air. "Quickly... I need the Blue-root extract for my son. His condition at the temple isn't good."
Henderson immediately sprang into action. "Calm down, mother. I'm getting it." He pulled a small blue vial from a back shelf and handed it to her.
As the woman pulled out coins with trembling hands, her eyes fell on the youth in the blue cloak. Though Even's face was half-hidden by the hood, she recognized his height and the specific boots peeking out from under the mantle.
"You!" the woman cried out in surprise.
Henderson looked back and forth between them. "Do you two know each other?"
The woman grabbed Even's hand tightly, tears of gratitude in her eyes. "Merchant, you have no idea what this boy did for me! A thief ran off with my bag. That bag held the last of the funds for my son's treatment. This brave boy risked his life to get it back from those thugs. I was so panicked and in such a rush then that I couldn't even thank him properly."
Henderson looked like he'd been struck by lightning. He turned to Even, who was now looking at the floor. "Even? You took on the thieves alone?"
Even didn't say a word, only giving a small nod. The woman then pulled a small velvet pouch from her bag. She took out a gleaming gold coin and pressed it firmly into Even's palm.
"No, mother... there's no need," Even protested weakly, though secretly, his heart leaped.
"Hush, child!" the woman scolded gently. "This gold coin is nothing compared to the joy of saving my son's life. I was in too much of a hurry to give you anything at that moment. Now my heart is at peace. Stay well."
Without waiting another second, the elderly woman took the vial and hurried out of the shop.
Even stood frozen, staring at his palm. A gold coin. It felt surprisingly heavy. The harsh afternoon sun filtered through the window, making the coin glow with an unearthly light.
A thousand questions swirled in Even's head.
How much is this gold coin actually worth?
Can I eat for a month on this?
Or can I buy a whole house?
He couldn't ask Henderson directly; a person of this world not knowing the value of their own currency would blow his cover instantly. He decided he would test its value later by trying to buy something small at another shop.
He tucked the coin into a hidden pocket of the cloak. The hunger pangs that had been torturing him seemed to settle slightly at the touch of the gold. He felt a surge of gratitude—finally, he had some resources to survive.
Henderson had been watching in silence. There was a new kind of respect and curiosity in his eyes. He leaned against the counter, observing Even closely.
"Even," Henderson said quietly. "I knew you were someone special. First, you saved my life from bandits and asked for nothing but a meal. I didn't realize you were this selfless."
Even pretended to look embarrassed. "I just wanted to help, Mr. Henderson."
Secretly, he thought:
'Actually, I was just trying to secure my own survival.'
Henderson smiled. "Listen, Even. I have a proposal. I am a merchant. My job is to travel from city to city, expanding my business. When I open a shop in a new city, I manage it myself for a while. Then, I look for a trustworthy person to hand it over to. Usually, it takes me months to find someone worthy."
Even's ears perked up.
'A job offer?'
Henderson placed his hand on the counter. "I don't fully know you yet. But your courage and honesty have impressed me. I won't hand you the shop right away, but I want to give you a chance. Do you want to work as my assistant? I'll observe you for a few days. If you can learn the trade and earn my trust, I will leave this shop in your care and move on to the next city. Then, we will sign a permanent contract."
Hope flared in Even's eyes. This was exactly what he needed—a stable shelter and an identity to survive in this world.
"I... I would definitely like to take this opportunity, Mr. Henderson," Even said steadily.
"Excellent," Henderson said enthusiastically. "But remember, I am very strict when it comes to business. You must learn the herbs, keep perfect accounts of copper and silver coins, and be polite to customers. And yes, first of all, you need proper clothes. Take off that cloak... and don't worry about working today. You start tomorrow. Tonight, you're coming with me to buy some new clothes."
Even nodded.
He realized his journey was truly beginning. He was no longer the obese, lazy boy spending his life in front of a laptop. He was now a decent warrior with a gold coin in his pocket and a future that, while uncertain, was finally thrilling.
As he walked toward the exit, he touched his pocket. The gold coin was still warm. He felt that tonight, for the first time, he might sleep in peace. But he knew this peace was temporary. In this unknown world, new dangers were always waiting.
He stopped and looked back one last time.