Upon hearing Gawain's reflexive comment, the veiled woman, Merita Pernia, paused, blinking with slight confusion. "My name is Merita Pernia. I understand it might sound unusual in northern lands…"
Gawain quickly reeled in his wandering thoughts. "Oh, apologies—don't mind it. My pronunciation slipped."
After a brief cough to reset the tone, he worked to regain his composure. "So, Miss Agent of the Mithril Treasury, may I ask why you've come here at this late hour and—through the window, no less?"
The woman hopped down from the windowsill, approaching Gawain. "Entering through the window was necessary. Countless eyes are watching this place, and the item you have in the Treasury is classified as 'top secret.' As per the agreement back then, the retrieval or storage process must be entirely confidential."
As she spoke, her faintly purple, glowing eyes examined Gawain carefully. Even with the veil obscuring her face, her gaze was piercing.
Gawain's mind raced, his thoughts rapidly organizing the fragmented memories within him. He knew of the Mithril Treasury; his inherited memories included records about it.
The Mithril Treasury was no mystery; nearly every intelligent being in the world knew of its existence. Yet no one could claim to truly understand the entity. Outwardly, it was a secure vault service, offering storage for wealth or precious items. According to its promotional materials, clients could entrust anything to the Treasury, so long as they paid the fee. And indeed, no one had ever heard of something being lost once stored with the Treasury.
Additionally, the Treasury provided loans through countless agents across the world. Anyone who met their credit criteria could obtain money or goods with ease. Two rules, however, governed these loans: first, the amount one could borrow was based on an internal rating system known only to the Treasury; second, repayment was obligatory.
The Treasury was reputedly relentless in recovering its debts. Just as no one had heard of an item being stolen from the Mithril Treasury, no one had successfully evaded its debts. Rumor had it that a cunning fire elemental lord once attempted to defy this rule. Though elementals typically had no need for currency, this one had borrowed a considerable sum from the Treasury and then retreated to the Elemental Realm, eager to see the mortals flounder. Yet it ultimately repaid its debt.
On the third day after the repayment was due, the elemental lord's core and shards appeared at an auction in the North. The sum earned matched his outstanding debt and interest precisely.
The Mithril Treasury, then, did not limit itself to humans. Its dealings spanned all intelligent races—elves, dwarves, even kobolds. No one knew whether the Treasury was founded by humans, elves, or another race entirely; it simply existed. Not even the great magical catastrophe seven hundred years ago had disturbed its operations. In fact, the very foundation of the Kingdom of Ansu had involved a loan from the Treasury—a debt that Charlie I had finally repaid.
The agent continued to observe Gawain with curiosity. He, meanwhile, calmly organized his thoughts, realizing her visit likely related to a deal made seven hundred years ago. The original Gawain Cecil had evidently been a client of the Mithril Treasury. But the crucial issue was… he had no memory of what that item was.
Instinctively, Gawain considered fabricating an explanation to cover the gaps in his memory. Yet as the words rose to his lips, he noticed Merita's scrutinizing gaze and suppressed the impulse. This woman was an enigma, and lying could complicate matters. Certain species even had the innate ability to detect falsehoods.
Keeping his composure, he asked, "What did I store back then?"
"Do you not remember?" Her eyes softened, seeming to smile. "Perhaps it's due to your prolonged slumber?"
"I've been asleep for seven centuries; I've undoubtedly forgotten a few things…" Gawain tapped his head. "Tell me, though—does the Treasury still keep an item even if the client has passed away?"
"Ordinarily, a client's death would end their contract, and there are two options for handling stored items. If there's a legitimate heir, we transfer the item to them. If not, the item becomes the property of the Mithril Treasury." She gestured slightly, and a small, ornate box appeared in her hand. "However, your case is special. You purchased an indefinite storage service, meaning that as long as the Mithril Treasury exists, your item will be stored indefinitely and can only be retrieved by you."
She added with a small smile, "You paid a considerable sum for this service. When news of your death arrived, we assumed it would become a bothersome dead account. But now, it seems everything is… fluid."
Gawain's brow furrowed. This matter was clearly more complex than he had anticipated. But now was not the time to dwell on it; he needed to retrieve the item first.
"Can I have it back?" he asked.
"Your lack of memory is slightly inconvenient, but not insurmountable. The Mithril Treasury has dealt with every conceivable issue over the years; we're well-prepared for any contingency…" She held the box with both hands, "Just place your hand on this rune, and the ancient magic will verify your identity."
Gawain hesitated for two seconds, activating his "danger sense" as a knight. He detected no threatening energy from the box, nor any curses or toxins in the rune. After verifying this, he placed his hand on the claw-shaped rune.
A faint warmth spread through his skin, and the small box clicked open slightly.
"That's all?" he asked in mild surprise.
Merita smiled. "Making things convenient for clients is the Treasury's policy—it encourages them to settle their accounts. Of course, your account was paid in full seven centuries ago."
With that, she opened the box completely and handed it to Gawain, who looked down to find only a dull crystal inside.
Wait a minute… this crystal looked familiar.
Suppressing his curiosity, Gawain looked up. "So, why did you choose now to find me? Was that part of the original deal?"
"Not exactly," Merita replied with a gentle shake of her head. "We needed time to verify your revival. Initially, I planned to meet you on your journey to the capital, but… your route was rather, shall we say, unpredictable. I decided to wait here instead. Incidentally, I've been waiting for quite some time. Food prices are high in the capital, and rent is no bargain either… but as a VIP client, I'll waive those charges for you."
Gawain raised an eyebrow. "…"
Did you really need to mention that?
He turned his head, sighing softly. "The food here *is* expensive, and my bodyguard has quite the appetite. Now that you've injured her, her medical bills might run high—but I won't charge you for those."
Merita gave a slightly awkward chuckle, though her expression was hidden beneath her veil. Shaking her head, she handed him a small item. "Mr. Gawain Cecil, with this transaction completed, as a VIP client, you're also entitled to a gift."
Gawain took the item—a silver-white ring. "What's this?"
"A Mithril Ring. Every VIP client receives one after their first transaction. It allows you to contact your personal agent—me—at any time. If you ever encounter financial difficulties or need to store valuables, just reach out. For minor transactions, you can take the ring to any Treasury branch to access a variety of discounts."
Finished, she turned back toward the window.
Gawain raised the ring slightly. "I hope I'll never need a loan from you."
Already halfway out, Merita paused, smiling as she looked over her shoulder. "Believe me, Mr. Cecil, everyone could eventually face financial troubles. The Mithril Treasury will always have its doors open for clients in need."
Gawain waved her off. "Yes, yes, I get it. But do hurry back; food is expensive here in the capital, Miss 'MyLittlePony.'"
Merita's foot slipped slightly, possibly due to the mention of food prices or her nickname. This time, she didn't turn around, vanishing into the air.
Moments later, she reappeared in a small, rarely visited attic atop the estate, typically used for storing odds and ends. The space now bore signs of long occupation, with blankets, pillows, cooking utensils, and a few other essentials.
She hadn't been lying—she really had waited there a long time.
As she packed up her belongings, she shook her head, muttering to herself, "Lucky I ate only the rice you provided."