The city market was chaos.
That was the first thing Evan noticed.
The second thing he noticed was that it smelled terrible.
Voices shouted from every direction. Merchants argued over prices. Metal clanged from a nearby blacksmith stall. Somewhere behind him, a donkey brayed angrily while a cart driver swore at it with impressive creativity.
The quiet estate where he had spent years training felt like another world.
Evan stood near the entrance road, arms folded, trying to look composed.
Inside, however, he was busy reminding himself of something important.
Forty-seven wolves.
He had fought forty-seven Dread Maw Wolves.
Survived.
Won.
That had to count for something.
He straightened his back slightly, trying to project the calm dignity of a legendary warrior.
A system notification appeared immediately.
[Master Crowd density exceeds Master's comfort parameters.]
Probability of being stepped on by a merchant's donkey: 42%.]
Evan sighed.
"Not helping, Echo."
Lyra walked several steps ahead of him, already navigating the crowd with the ease of someone who had done this a hundred times.
Her black hair swayed lightly behind her as she moved from stall to stall with precise efficiency.
"Keep up, my Prince," she said without turning around.
Evan followed. Immediately, someone bumped into him. Then someone else stepped on his foot. Then a child ran past carrying bread that looked larger than his head.
Evan muttered under his breath.
"Forty-seven wolves."
He adjusted his pace and caught up to Lyra.
"So," he asked casually, "what exactly are we buying?"
Lyra stopped at a stall filled with metal cookware.
"Essentials."
The merchant behind the stall smiled politely.
"Looking for anything specific, miss?"
Lyra lifted a sturdy iron cooking pot.
"This one."
The merchant nodded quickly.
"Excellent craftsmanship. High Quality. Only three silver."
Lyra raised an eyebrow.
"Two."
"Three."
"Two."
The merchant hesitated.
Evan stepped forward slightly.
He straightened his posture and attempted to activate what he believed was a Prince-level negotiation aura.
"Surely," he said calmly, "you can offer a more reasonable price."
The merchant stared at him.
Then he looked back at Lyra.
"…Two silver."
Lyra nodded.
"There you go, your 2 silver."
Evan blinked.
"…Wait."
He frowned.
"Did I help?"
Lyra handed him the pot.
"No, let's go, we have other things to buy."
Evan sighed and carried it.
They continued through the market.
High-grade tea leaves.
Travel boots.
Vegetables.
So many vegetables.
At one stall, Evan noticed a table filled with strange objects.
One item immediately caught his eye.
A dark cloak with a deep hood.
He walked closer.
It looked cool.
Very cool.
He could already imagine himself walking through misty mountains wearing it.
A mysterious wandering cultivator.
The hood shadowed his face.
Power radiated from every step.
Echo spoke.
[Price analysis initiated.]
[Material composition: cheap wool.]
[Estimated durability: low.]
[Probability of dramatic cloak-flip success: 3%.]
Evan ignored her smugness.
"Lyra," he said carefully.
"Yes?"
"…Look at this."
Lyra glanced at the cloak.
"No way I am going to buy you that, you will end up doing something stupid again."
Evan frowned.
"But it has a hood."
"Still not happening. The last time you tried to help me get the dried cloths, you fell into our pond."
"Hey, that was when I was 5 years old. This time I won't put clothes over me and walk around."
Lyra continued walking.
"Still not happening... We are here for needles and thread."
Evan stared longingly at the cloak before following her again.
Behind him, Echo spoke calmly.
[Master this action is recommended: emotional recovery.]
...
Thirty minutes later, Evan was carrying five bags.
And a mop.
He stared at the mop with deep philosophical concern.
"Lyra."
"Yes?"
"Why am I carrying a mop?"
Lyra continued walking without slowing down.
"Because you have arms."
"That feels like weak reasoning."
The bags were heavy.
Flour.
Vegetables.
Potatoes.
Why did the estate need so many potatoes?
Evan shifted the weight and sighed.
"You can literally kill monsters with a look," he muttered. "Yet I'm the one carrying groceries."
Lyra glanced at him briefly.
Her gaze lingered for a moment.
He had grown.
Not just taller.
His shoulders were broader.
Training had carved strength into his frame.
His movements were steadier.
"Consider it additional endurance training."
Evan groaned.
They turned a corner.
The noise of the market dimmed slightly.
Ahead of them stood a massive stone building.
The sign above the entrance was carved from dark iron.
Iron Tusk Trading Post.
The wooden doors were scarred and scratched.
Several dried blood stains decorated the stone steps.
Evan blinked.
"…That looks friendly."
Lyra stopped walking.
"We're here."
Evan shifted the grocery bags.
"For what?"
Lyra looked at him.
"We are here to sell your wolves."
Evan froze.
"…My what?"
...
The interior of the trading post was quiet.
Professional.
Several merchants sat behind heavy wooden desks.
Bundles of pelts were stacked along the walls.
The air smelled faintly of leather and iron.
One of the merchants looked up.
"You have business?"
Lyra gestured calmly toward Evan.
"Master has Dread Maw Wolves pelts to sell."
The merchant nodded.
"Very well."
He leaned forward slightly.
"How many are there? We buy at excellent rates."
Evan hesitated.
"…A few."
Lyra looked at him.
The look was calm.
Sharp.
Very sharp.
Evan cleared his throat.
'…Echo.'
[Yes, Master.]
"…Prepare inventory extraction."
Lyra handed him the storage ring containing the wolves before they entered. The first wolf appeared.
THUMP.
The merchant blinked.
Then a second wolf.
THUMP.
Then a third.
THUMP.
The merchant leaned back slowly.
Evan kept going.
Five wolves.
Ten wolves.
Twenty wolves.
The pile grew.
The merchant stood up.
Thirty wolves.
Forty wolves.
The growing mountain of dead Dread Maw Wolves nearly reached the chandelier.
The entire trading hall had gone silent.
Echo spoke calmly.
[Master local economic inflation imminent.]
[Recommended action: act like Master does this every Tuesday.]
Evan ignored his smug system spirit like it wasn't even there.
Evan stood beside the enormous pile of wolves and tried to look calm.
The merchant stared.
"…How many wolves did you kill?"
Evan scratched his cheek.
"…Forty-seven."
The merchant slowly circled the pile.
He examined the pelts.
He frowned.
"Hm."
Evan felt nervous.
The merchant spoke again.
"The fur is damaged."
Lyra rested her hand lightly on the hilt of her blade.
The merchant paused.
"…However."
He cleared his throat.
"These are high-grade Dread Maw Wolves."
He straightened.
"I can offer 200 silver."
Lyra looked at him.
The merchant swallowed.
"…300."
Lyra remained silent. While looking at him as if he had asked for her newborn child.
"…400."
She finally nodded.
"Acceptable."
After they sold those wolves, Lyra and Evan left the store.
...
A short while later, they stepped back onto the street.
Evan held a pouch of silver coins.
He stared at it with wide eyes.
"We're rich."
Lyra gently took the pouch from his hand.
"For the estate's maintenance."
Evan blinked.
"And better tea."
Evan sighed deeply.
They began walking back through the market.
Evan still carried the mop.
He looked at it again.
"I fought forty-seven wolves."
Echo responded.
[Correction: Master is a legendary hunter with a very clean floor.]
'Too much Echo time today. Recommended action: Immediate ignore.'
[Master, stop copying me.]
Evan adjusted the mop on his shoulder and followed.
Somewhere behind them, several merchants were still arguing about the mysterious child who casually dumped forty-seven wolves in the trade hall.
Evan sighed.
"I feel like a legendary hunter…"
He glanced at the mop.
"…yet I'm still carrying a mop. What has my life come to?"