Time doesn't heal anything. Time merely piles dust over the wound, camouflaging it until you forget it was ever there.
Two months had passed since the rain in the Weeping Forest stopped washing over my face.
Routine had taken over once more.
Wake up. Brew coffee. Smoke. Kill. Get paid. Sleep. Repeat.
This house was large. Solid stone walls, cold marble floors, and a backyard spacious enough for sword practice.
I was no longer renting it. I bought it last week. In cash.
The previous owner, a bankrupt merchant, had nearly kissed my feet when he saw the stack of gold coins.
Now, this house was mine. A permanent shelter in a foreign city.
But somehow, owning it felt infinitely lonelier than simply renting it.
I pulled on a pair of thick, black leather gloves.
This wasn't a fashion choice. It was an insulator.
My hands were far too hungry. In the past, energy still took time to absorb, but now, if I touched a crystal with my bare skin, it would instantly turn into an empty piece of glass.
I grabbed my bag.
Time for work.
The Steel Spider's Lair.
The cave walls were plastered with webs as thick as steel wires. Sticky and razor-sharp.
In the center of the chamber, the Armored Arachnid waited. A creature the size of a carriage, encased in an organic metal shell.
Ordinary hunters would attack it with fire magic or greatswords, trying to brute-force their way through those tough defenses. Or they would obliterate everything, ruining the valuable materials in the process.
Fools.
I stood motionless at the entrance, lighting a cigarette.
The monster hissed, its eight legs skittering rapidly, ready to pounce.
"Haa..." I exhaled a puff of smoke.
I pulled on a thin string I had rigged along the entrance tunnel beforehand. High-grade dungeon spider silk, bought from a store.
The monster lunged.
I didn't move.
It sailed through the empty air, landing squarely on the exact pivot point I had calculated.
I yanked the master knot.
SNAP.
The stalactites on the ceiling gave way. Gravity did the rest.
A two-ton boulder crashed down onto the spider's back, pinning its legs but leaving its highly valuable abdomen completely intact.
CRACK!
The monster thrashed, hopelessly pinned down.
I strolled closer at a leisurely pace.
Drawing my spear, I aimed for the gap between its head and thorax.
SHLUCK.
A single precision strike. Instant death.
Now, for the moneymaker.
I pulled out a scalpel.
The silk glands.
I dissected its abdomen with surgical care. Steel spider silk was the base material for the clothes I wore. It fetched a hefty price. I spooled it up and stored it away.
And the crystal.
I reached inside the hollowed-out chest cavity, extracting the pulsating purple gem.
I didn't touch it directly; my gloves shielded me.
Drop.
Everything went into the Dimensional Bag.
Nothing was wasted. Total efficiency.
The Adventurer's Guild.
"Mister Scorpion..."
The receptionist beamed the moment she saw me. It was the kind of smile reserved for priority clients.
I dropped the sack onto the counter. It was filled with crystals and spools of steel silk.
"Count it."
A hush fell over the Guild. The other adventurers stared at my back with reverence and awe.
"Look, it's him... Scorpion."
"Did he just sell materials from the Spider Dungeon? Solo?"
"That guy... he turned hunting into a money-printing factory."
I couldn't care less about their whispers.
"Today's total exchange... S-Rank materials and twenty pure crystals..." The receptionist swallowed hard, calculating rapidly. "Forty gold coins, sir."
I accepted the heavy pouch.
I didn't bother counting it. I just tossed it into my Dimensional Bag, where it joined the hundreds of other gold coins piling up inside. A mountain of gold with nowhere to be spent.
I walked over to the quest board.
Empty.
Not the board itself, but my interest in it.
Everything felt repetitive. The exact same pattern. Kill, loot, sell.
"Is there anything new?" I asked flatly.
"I'm sorry, sir. No new dungeons have opened up yet."
I walked out of the Guild.
The sun beat down fiercely on the City of the Sun's Son. The orderliness of this city was starting to feel suffocating.
I was rich. I was strong. I owned property.
What now?
Scorpion's Private Residence. Nighttime.
The house was dead quiet. The chirping of crickets in the backyard echoed clearly.
I sat in my lounge chair facing the large window, staring out at the empty garden—the only hobby that made me feel remotely human.
On the table sat two glass jars.
One was still tightly sealed, brimming with black coffee grounds.
The other was already open, half-empty.
I brewed a cup from the open jar.
The aroma filled the large, frigid room.
Sip.
I had time. My coffee stash was secure. I didn't need to return to the Elven Village just yet. I had no real reason to, and honestly... I wasn't ready to face Elyra's gentle gaze while my heart was still so numb.
I lit a cigarette.
"Haa..."
I looked around.
This house needed something. Or someone?
No. I didn't need a noisy conversational partner.
But the money in my bag... the amount was becoming absurd. Hundreds of gold coins. Just sitting there, collecting metaphorical dust.
I remembered the world map hanging in my study.
To the northeast.
The Free Trade Port.
A place where money could buy absolutely anything. Illegal goods, ancient artifacts, classified information, or even human lives.
In this orderly city, my wealth could only buy boring things. But out there... maybe I could find something interesting. Something unpredictable.
Maybe some unique furniture for this house?
Or maybe just throwing money around to see exactly how far human morality could be bought?
"A vacation..." I muttered. "Let's just call it a grocery run."
I stood up.
I didn't need to pack. All my worldly possessions were inside my Dimensional Bag.
I walked to the front door.
I looked back at the room one last time. Clean. Neat. Empty.
"I'll be back," I said to the void.
I locked the front door. The heavy iron lock clicked into place.
This house would be waiting for me.
I stepped out into the moonlit street.
My destination: The Free Trade Port.
Looking for something to fill a house that was too big, and perhaps... to fill the time that was passing by far too slowly.