"Are you kidding me?" Chris's brow furrowed deeply, as if he'd just been slapped with an impossible truth. His voice wavered between disbelief and frustration, echoing in the dim room.
"No, sir. No joke," the waiter replied lazily, barely glancing at him. He was entirely indifferent, eyes half-closed, savoring the steam from his freshly poured tea. "Fifty gold coins a night, three hundred gold coins a week," he repeated nonchalantly, the words rolling off his tongue with a practiced ease.
Chris clenched his jaw. They had been walking for nearly ten minutes through streets that grew progressively more desolate, only to end up here: before a dilapidated building that seemed like it could crumble at any moment. If it weren't for the sparse trickle of people entering and exiting, they might have mistaken it for an abandoned structure. The paint had long peeled away from the walls, and patches of green moss clung stubbornly to the stone. Some windows were completely absent, leaving dark, empty spaces that seemed to swallow the light.
Inside, it wasn't any better. The walls were scarred with dark watermarks from years of moisture and neglect. A moldy odor hit them immediately, causing all four of them to instinctively wrinkle their noses. Chris could barely contain his outrage. How could a place like this, so utterly wretched, possibly charge such an absurd amount?
Just as Chris opened his mouth to protest further, Oliver, ever composed, stepped forward. "Let's take it for two days first," he said calmly, sliding a single gold coin across the table. The crow insignia gleamed in the dim light.
The waiter's attitude shifted slightly. His half-closed eyes opened fully as the sight of the money stirred something within him. Without a word, he pocketed the coin and reached for a worn ledger. "Which room?" he asked, his fingers hovering over the faded pages of the room register.
Oliver pointed at one without hesitation. "That one."
The waiter nodded, producing a rusted key from behind the counter. "Here you go," he said, handing it over. "Take care."
"Thank you," Oliver replied, turning towards the staircase.
"Oliver," Chris called out, his tone more subdued but still carrying a sense of urgency.
Oliver paused, glancing over his shoulder. "What is it?"
"Where did you exchange the money?" Chris asked, his voice quieter now. "I can't keep using yours. I'll need to get my own."
Enola, who had been standing silently, now raised her head, her gaze firm as if willing Oliver to reveal the secret. Sandra and Lesley watched as well, their expressions mirroring her.
Oliver gave them a calm look but sidestepped the question. "Let's check the room first," he said, gesturing up the stairs. "We can talk after."
Chris hesitated but finally nodded, and the four of them followed Oliver to their room. The doorknob felt loose in his hand, rattling slightly as he twisted it. Inside, the room was a marginal improvement over the rest of the building. Water stains still marred the walls, but they were fewer in number, and the damp, musty odor was less overpowering.
"This is what I brought," Chris said, spreading a cloth on the table and emptying the contents of his bag onto it. A humble pile of everyday items appeared, some toothbrushes, ointments, towels, a few sets of clothes, his trusty dagger, and a handful of silver coins. It was nothing impressive.
The others shared similar collections, though , Sandra and Enola being the girls, had a few cosmetic items, a small bottle of perfume, along with about fifty silver coins.
"Oliver, what do you think?" Chris asked, all of them looking expectantly at their companion.
Chris blinked in surprise. "Why?"
Oliver chuckled. "No need to rush. You're all thinking about selling your belongings, right? But what will you do once they're gone? You'll still need them later."
Chris frowned, clearly uncomfortable. "But I can't keep relying on your money. It's... embarrassing."
Oliver paused, considering for a moment before speaking again. "Alright, how about this? Rest for the day. Tomorrow, we'll head to the Adventurer's Association."
Chris's eyes widened in surprise. "The Adventurer's Association? But... we haven't graduated yet. We're not qualified!" he protested, an anxious tremor in his voice.
A smile crept onto Oliver's face. "Who said anything about qualifications? You'll see."
"The Adventurer's Association never required anyone to have a graduation certificate, you know," Oliver said calmly, glancing at his companions who seemed more anxious than they needed to be. "Don't stress about it. The certificate is only needed if you want to register as a formal adventurer. For now, we're fine. Besides, the association offers plenty of lower-level missions with smaller rewards. Only the big, dangerous jobs are restricted to formal adventurers."
He leaned back in his chair, eyes half-closed, seemingly unfazed by the conversation. "It won't hurt to check it out tomorrow. For now, let's rest up."
Chris sighed in relief. "Good, that sounds like a plan."
"Speaking of plans," Oliver continued, "what's the deal with the dean changing the competition rules this time? It seems pretty sudden."
Sandra, who had been silent until now, perked up at the mention of the dean. "It's hard to say for sure," she mused, her voice thoughtful. "But remember when the students were sent into the desert for that survival challenge? A month out there, and only the strongest teams made it back. Afterward, they were grouped together and sent on expeditions to study rare species in the desert. My guess is that this year's winning team will be sent somewhere similar to this city."
Enola nodded in agreement but let out a long sigh, leaning his head back. "Honestly, if it weren't for the map, I'd think this place was no different from any old border town. Run-down, neglected… It doesn't look like much."
Chris scowled, the frustration clear in his eyes. "Yeah, but what I can't figure out is why everything is so expensive. The place looks like it's falling apart, but the prices are through the roof."
"Who knows?" Oliver said with a tired shrug, his eyes now fully closed as he settled into a more comfortable position.
Of course, Oliver knew the truth. This city wasn't in ruins because it was poor, it was because of the black crows. They were the real reason behind the decay. It was the same principle he had seen in part-time jobs back home. For example, a painter could work tirelessly all day and only make one gold coin. But if that same person aligned themselves with the main group, the black crows, they could make ten gold coins easily, even if they didn't accomplish much. It was quick, easy money.
So, why bother with hard labor like painting walls or repairing buildings? Why break your back farming or fishing when you could join the black crows and make ten times as much in a fraction of the time? People who once worked as farmers, fishermen, blacksmiths, they'd all left their trades behind. The only ones left now were adventurers and merchants, drawn to the promise of fast, easy wealth.
"Hey, why isn't there any water coming from the faucet?" Sandra's voice broke through the silence, pulling Oliver from his thoughts.
Enola checked the faucet, twisting the handle a few times, but nothing happened. "Looks like the pipes are busted. Again," she muttered. "Better shut it off before we end up soaked in the middle of the night."
Chris quickly twisted the faucet shut, giving it a few extra turns for good measure before stepping back, relieved. "That should do it," he said with a nervous chuckle.
Meanwhile, Oliver returned to his quiet contemplation, while the rest of them huddled together, whispering about their next immediate concern, dinner. The uncomfortable truth was, they were all classmates, but none of them had the money to cover a meal.
Before they could come up with a plan, Oliver opened his eyes and smirked. He had noticed their quiet scheming. "Alright, come on," he said, standing up and motioning for them to follow him. "Let's go find something to eat before you all starve."
He led them to a modest restaurant, its dim lights flickering like beacons in the otherwise desolate streets. It wasn't much, but it was enough for a simple meal. The food was humble, but after a long day, it felt like a feast. The sea breeze drifting in from the nearby shore was refreshing, and the night sky overhead was clear and peaceful.
"I guess we survived the first day," Chris remarked, managing a grin between bites. "Even if it was a bit of a disaster."
"Could have been worse," Sandra added, her tone light. "At least the food's not bad. Not too salty, not too bland. Perfect, really."
They all shared a quiet moment of contentment, until Enola noticed a group of skinny elves loitering in the corner, their hollow eyes watching with quiet intensity.
"Yeah," Enola muttered, looking away from the elves. "Almost perfect."