Damon counted the zeni in his hand—12,000 from the day's pickpocketing spree. The weight of the coins brought back memories he'd rather forget. Back in the capital, child pickpockets had to pay protection money to local gangs.
To put it simply, most of your loot went straight to the gang. Refuse to pay, and you'd disappear without a trace.
'This world isn't fair to the weak,' he thought bitterly.
He stuffed the money into the bag holding his academy uniform, dividing the spoils as agreed. Damon kept 70% of the earnings, giving Carls 10% for leading him to the vendors and 20% as his share of the pickpocketing profits. They made sure to dispose of the pouches and any incriminating evidence before continuing.
"Alright, show me where I can get ore for cheap," Damon said flatly.
Carls grinned mischievously.
"Heh, I know just the place. But it's a bit unconventional, and it'll depend on how good your eye is."
