Flynn added the boy, whose name was Bitter-Melon to his friends list and made him a simple promise. In the future, if he needed potions, Bitter-Melon would get first priority, as long as his prices stayed reasonable and did not drift too far above the market rate.
Bitter-Melon agreed without hesitation. Flynn was his first real bulk customer, and the profit of several dozen silver coins had already lifted his mood considerably. For a newcomer trying to carve out a place in the village economy, that kind of start felt like striking gold.
After parting ways with him, Flynn headed straight for the blacksmith's forge. The copper ore he had gathered needed to be smelted into ingots before it could be used, and there was only one place in the village that could handle the job.
The forge was thick with the smell of iron and smoke. Parker, the blacksmith, was seated near the side table with a bottle in hand, drinking in broad daylight as usual. He had never been particularly warm toward Flynn, and today was no exception. The moment he saw him step inside, he let out a loud huff, his dark, rigid features tightening into a scowl.
In Parker's eyes, Flynn was a waste of potential. The boy came in, smelted his ingots, and then ran off to tinker with Engineering. How could a craft that produced little mechanical toys possibly compare to the dignity and power of true Blacksmithing?
Flynn, for his part, did not care in the slightest. He strolled in as if he owned the place and offered an easy grin.
"Uncle Parker, you're looking great today. You look full of spirit. What, did Aunt Lily next door whisper something sweet in your ear again?"
"Don't talk nonsense, boy. Lily and I are just friends," Parker replied, forcing his face into sternness. Unfortunately for him, a faint smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, betraying everything.
Flynn laughed. "Getting shy at your age? Come on, you two are a perfect match. Your builds, your looks, even your temperaments. Honestly, you were made for each other."
The words were half teasing and half sincere, tossed out lightly just to see how the man would react.
Aunt Lily was the tailor next door, a broad-shouldered woman with a presence that filled a room. She and Parker were undeniably close. Flynn had run into them together more than once, and every time they had separated a little too quickly, pretending nothing was happening. It might have been a game, but the NPCs were frighteningly well simulated. Their expressions, their awkward pauses, the way they avoided each other's eyes, none of it escaped Flynn's notice. Teasing Parker about it had become one of his small private amusements.
For a long moment, Parker simply stared at him. Then he suddenly slapped the stool beside him and barked, "You little rascal, get over here and have a drink with your Uncle Parker first. The ingots can wait."
Flynn blinked, genuinely surprised. He knew Parker did not think much of him, so an invitation like this was completely unexpected.
"Hurry up," Parker grumbled, already sounding impatient. "Tell you what. However much copper ore you have, I'll trade you the same amount in copper ingots. One for one. Fair?"
"Of course, no problem!" Flynn did not need to think twice. He stored his things in his bag and hurried over, dropping into the seat opposite Parker. Without ceremony, he grabbed an unopened bottle of ale, took two long swallows, wiped his mouth, and grinned. "So what's the occasion, Uncle Parker? Why am I being treated today?"
Parker shot him a sideways look. "I've been watching you. You may not like blacksmithing, but your mining skill improves every day. You're one of the best around here. I respect that. So I'm buying you a drink."
Flynn held his gaze and smiled knowingly. 'Just for that? As if'. He replayed their earlier exchange in his mind. 'Perfect match. Made for each other.'
'Ah.'
So that was it.
He took another generous swallow of ale and sighed contentedly. "Uncle Parker, Aunt Lily is a wonderful woman. If you like her, you should go for it. You can do it."
Color crept into Parker's cheeks, his dark skin turning faintly red beneath the forge's glow. "She's great, isn't she? You think so too?"
"Of course she is," Flynn said, nodding earnestly, even though he had barely exchanged more than a handful of words with her in total. Still, when a man's crush is the reason he is pouring you free ale, there is only one correct answer.
Parker's mood soared. He lifted his bottle and clinked it hard against Flynn's. "See? I told you! Her temper, her looks, she's the best in the village. That old fool Edward and the others have no taste at all. Always making snide remarks."
Flynn bit back a laugh. Temper, perhaps. As for looks, he chose diplomacy over honesty. Aunt Lily's physique could rival a seasoned smith's. Parker's tastes were… distinctive.
The blacksmith reached out and thumped Flynn's shoulder heavily. "After all these years, I've finally met someone who understands me. It's a shame you have no interest in blacksmithing. If you did, I would teach you everything I know."
A more experienced player might have sensed opportunity hidden within those words. Play along long enough, and something valuable would surely follow. Flynn, however, only scratched his head.
"I've never really tried it," he admitted. "Engineering just seemed more fun, so I've been messing around with that."
Parker shook his head slowly, regret etched across his face. "Nothing in this world can be mastered by messing around. Even that rascal Edward, though I can't stand him, his engineering gadgets have their uses. If you want to excel, you must be diligent. Stay focused."
He paused, then added, "You may not want to forge, but you are a diligent miner. Engineering consumes a lot of ore. I have something that might help."
He bent down and rummaged beneath the table, metal clanking faintly. After a moment, he pulled out a pickaxe that emitted a faint green glow and placed it carefully into Flynn's hands.
The moment Flynn gripped it, the system information appeared.
—
Pickaxe of the Jackal (Bronze Quality) Mining time reduced by 5 percent. Ore yield increased by 3 percent.
—
The handle was capped with a small, intricately carved wolf's head, its fangs bared in a silent snarl. Flynn turned it over in his hands, genuinely impressed. "This is a fine piece of gear. Thank you, Uncle Parker."
If Amy had been there, she would have been speechless. A green quality gathering tool with those attributes was already being traded off-platform for a staggering sum. The official real-money trading system had not yet launched, and players were still short on in-game currency, so third-party platforms had sprung up to fill the gap. Transactions were entirely player-to-player. If you were cheated, there was no one to complain to. Some sites offered intermediary services, but the risks were always there.
Flynn, however, knew none of that. To him, it was simply another piece of Bronze-grade equipment. He already owned several green items. It was useful, certainly, but not something to lose his composure over. Even if he had known the price others were paying, he would have cared more about how it improved his efficiency than its market value.
In truth, he still did not fully grasp just how valuable such a tool was in the early stages of the game. For a player focused on life skills, this pickaxe was nothing short of a divine artifact.
Parker, meanwhile, was back to lamenting. "You're a Rogue, but you have a sturdy frame and steady hands. Smithing isn't just brute force. Without meticulous attention, you cannot produce high-quality work. A real pity. A real pity."
He drained another bottle.
Time slipped by. Soon, empty bottles littered the floor. Parker's face was flushed deep red, and his breath was thick with alcohol. He fumbled in his pocket and produced a crumpled, yellowish-brown sheet of paper. With surprising care, he smoothed it out and pressed it solemnly into Flynn's hand.
"Young man, you are the only one who understands me. You're right. Lily and I are a perfect match. Her husband has been gone for more than ten years. There's nothing wrong with me pursuing her. This letter expresses my feelings. Lily, my lovely Lily, I dream of your delicate figure every night. The way you move, the way you…"
"Enough. I'll deliver it," Flynn cut in quickly, snatching the letter before Parker could continue. For a man who looked like a walking anvil, Parker's romantic declarations were surprisingly intense. Perhaps he was right about one thing. A good blacksmith had to be meticulous, and Parker had clearly poured that same attention into this letter.
The instant Flynn agreed, a notification appeared.
—
Player Night-Stalker has accepted hidden quest: Parker's Love Letter. Time limit: three hours.
—
"A timed quest too?" Flynn muttered, glancing at his log.
He wasted no time. Finding the apprentice in the adjacent workspace, he handed over all his copper ore. As promised, the apprentice exchanged it one for one for refined ingots without hesitation, clearly acting under Parker's instructions.
With the ingots secured, Flynn hurried out of the forge. His night was far from over. Aside from delivering the letter, he still needed to craft the mechanical dolls for Amy.
What he did not notice was the ripple his actions left behind.
Other players had seen him trade ore directly for ingots at a one-to-one ratio. It was efficient, far more convenient than smelting everything personally. Naturally, some of them tried to replicate the deal.
But they were immediately refused.
The apprentice offered only two units of ore for one ingot, or the option to smelt it themselves. Nothing more.
Confusion spread. A few sharper players recalled seeing Flynn drinking with Parker earlier in the small side room. An idea began to circulate. Perhaps the key was bribing the blacksmith with ale first.
When one enterprising player brought over several bottles, Parker accepted them happily.
But when it came to trading ore for ingots at a fair rate, he did not budge an inch.