I could easily have said it was the 181-coin guy without a second thought — but the culprit was already dead, having been done in by the Grim Reaper and ended up inside the Minotaurs’ stomachs.
And even if he were still alive, my character wasn’t low enough to go blabbing someone else’s embarrassing business to a regular customer.
“It’s nothing for you to concern yourself with, Player.”
I answered with a smile and withdrew my hand. Jeong Euijin’s fingers tensed for a moment as if to tighten their grip, but he let go without a fuss. Instead, I noticed his lips press firmly together.
I went back to checking the items as if nothing had happened. Everything except the jerky and energy bars was expensive, and by the time the tally was done, the total had come to nearly ten thousand coins.
Now it was time to complete the transaction.
The method of transaction between an NPC and a Player was simple.
The NPC simply had to decide in their mind — I’m selling this item to this person for this amount. A system window with the same information would then appear before the Player, asking whether they wished to proceed, and the moment the Player indicated their acceptance, the transaction was complete.
Jeong Euijin accepted the moment the system window appeared, prompted by my intent. When I’d read out the total he’d barely seemed to be listening, and he appeared equally indifferent to the amount shown on the system window.
The instant the transaction was complete, Jeong Euijin picked up a recovery potion. He looked exactly like someone who had been waiting for the precise moment the transaction would finish.
He uncapped the potion without hesitation and held out his hand to me.
“Your wrist.”
“Pardon?”
“Give me the injured wrist.”
The moment I realized what Jeong Euijin was trying to do, my eyebrow twitched on its own.
I hid the aching wrist behind my back instead. I put an extra layer of deliberate brightness into my professional smile.
“I’m fine. It’ll be completely healed by tomorrow.”
The system of this world had set up a few provisions for what might be called “shop NPCs.” The most prominent examples were the Perception Interference trait — which made it impossible to clearly perceive their faces — and the dedicated guardian assigned to protect shop NPCs.
Beyond those, there were a few other rather useful provisions, and in my opinion, nothing beat this one.
Sleep and wake up, and any injury, regardless of severity, was fully healed.
Since it didn’t appear as a separate named trait, I suspected that the office-slash-bedroom set up next to the counter had some kind of effect like that placed on it.
He would surely know that an NPC’s injuries didn’t need to be worried about — and yet Jeong Euijin was being quite stubborn.
“Which means it hurts until tomorrow.”
“I only need to endure it for two hours and thirty-four minutes.”
“When there’s a potion right in front of you, why endure it?”
“Because it’s not something I should be using.”
“I’m giving it to you as a gift, so you can use it with a clear conscience.”
If this had been inside a well-crafted game, Jeong Euijin’s stubborn goodwill like this would have been translating into an affection rating. Raising your affection rating with an NPC could earn you various rewards, or even rare information you couldn’t obtain otherwise — there were cases like that. In fact, some of the sub-quests assigned to Players seemed to be exactly that kind.
But I was nothing more than a simple shop NPC with no affection rating to speak of.
Pouring a high-grade recovery potion meant for Players all over myself just because I was in a bit of pain — all that would accomplish was a stream of warning windows telling me to behave like an NPC.
More than anything, there was nothing quite as frightening or uncomfortable as unconditional goodwill from another person.
“I don’t need it. Wasting a high-grade potion worth 500 coins on a mere NPC is just plain unreasonable.”
The moment I let the words out in my usual blunt tone, my vision turned red in an instant.
Behave in a manner befitting an NPC of the Special Supply Station!
And there it was.
The sensation of my perfectly clear vision being swallowed up and flooded red by the warning window was honestly dizzying enough to give me a headache. Through it, I could see Jeong Euijin’s face watching me with slightly startled eyes.
Alright. I get it.
I grumbled inwardly, and the warning window finally disappeared. Even so, the red afterimage that had taken over my vision lingered, and I had to blink several times before my focus came back.
Honestly, no flexibility at all. A shop NPC can be a little prickly, can’t they.
I wasn’t happy about the system’s razor-sharp warning, but I did understand it. If someone tried to haggle with or threaten an NPC whose job was to buy and sell things, the answer they’d get from those NPC’s — indistinguishable from machines — would always be the same.
Anyone with a brain would just buy what they came to buy and leave quietly.
I smiled again, as if I’d never been prickly at all.
“I apologize. I’ll gratefully accept the thought.”
“…….”
Jeong Euijin’s eyes narrowed slightly at my suddenly changed tone. He seemed displeased about something.
“…I understand.”
Jeong Euijin let out a small sigh and put the potion away. He placed all his purchased items into the subspace bag he’d just bought. It looked like a leather bag that would be full with two hardcover books stuffed inside, but its interior was spacious enough to easily fit even Jeong Euijin’s long longswords.
With the packed leather bag slung over one shoulder, Jeong Euijin searched through his jacket’s inner pocket. That inner pocket also seemed to be connected to a small subspace.
“Then at least take this.”
What Jeong Euijin pulled out was, of all things, a handkerchief. A white handkerchief bordered with a gold pattern — the silky smooth texture of it appeared to be actual silk.
As I looked at the handkerchief, a small status window appeared to me.
Healing Handkerchief (14/15) — When placed over a wound, it moderately enhances the user’s innate recovery ability. — For external injuries, it grants rapid hemostasis and regeneration; for internal injuries, it grants a gradual recovery effect. — Cannot become soiled as long as durability has not reached 0.
It was a healing item that any Player fighting monsters would covet. Items like this typically had durability directly proportional to uses, and based on the number already used, it was practically brand new.
While I hesitated, Jeong Euijin took it upon himself to pull my wrist toward him and tie the handkerchief around it. The knot those long, prominent-knuckled fingers had tied was needlessly pretty.
Having carefully bound the handkerchief so as not to strain my wrist, Jeong Euijin glanced at me to gauge my reaction.
“I’m not giving it to you. I’m lending it, just for now.”
There was a clear difference between giving and lending. Because he knew that, Jeong Euijin had deliberately emphasized the word lending.
“I’ll be back to collect it properly later.”
There was an inexplicable firmness in those words — and in the face of that resolve, I missed my window to refuse.
Healing Handkerchief (13/15)
A pleasant, tingling warmth spread from the wrist wrapped in the handkerchief — and at the same time, its durability dropped by one.
Even if I unwrapped the handkerchief right now, the lost durability point would never be restored. The healing effect that had only just begun to settle into my wrist would be cut off abruptly too.
For someone like me who valued efficiency above all, taking the handkerchief off right now would be nothing short of wasteful.
This… stubborn bastard.
I shot a glare up at Jeong Euijin, who had somehow managed to make me feel indebted to him.
The fact that no warning window had appeared suggested that accepting the handkerchief itself wasn’t a problem. But if I started talking back to him right now in an effort to return it on the spot, I’d almost certainly slip up again. Seeing two warning windows back to back would genuinely leave me with a headache and vertigo.
I was in a rather poor mood to begin with, which meant the smile I kept fixed at the corners of my mouth brightened automatically, out of habit. It was probably a fairly disturbing expression — but thanks to the Perception Interference trait, Jeong Euijin seemed to simply think I was smiling pleasantly.
“Thank you. I’ll be sure to return it when you come by next time.”
When I said that while turning the handkerchief at my wrist over in my fingers, Jeong Euijin turned to leave with a satisfied expression.
Nothing is worse than feeling like you’re in someone’s debt…….
Here I was — an NPC, living more safely than anyone — using a precious healing item that Players, risking their lives daily, couldn’t get enough of.
If someone were indebted to me, it wouldn’t bother me in the slightest — but when I was the one indebted to someone else, it always brought with it the most insufferable sense of unease.
Unable to stop myself in the end, I called out to Jeong Euijin.
“Player.”
“Yes?”
I kept my mouth shut for a moment and stared at Jeong Euijin.
Unwilling or not, the situation was that Jeong Euijin had readily extended kindness to me — a mere NPC.
To let that pass without acknowledgment felt wrong given how much the Healing Handkerchief was actually worth as an item. The weight of being indebted to him by that much wasn’t something to brush off lightly either.
Before I knew it, I was pulling up Jeong Euijin’s status window without permission. It was to see whether there was anything I might be able to help with.
So this is why people in games always work on raising their affection rating with NPCs.
It was a moment of fresh appreciation for exactly why affection ratings with NPCs mattered in games. Though in my case, it was less an affection rating and more a debt-unease rating.
Scanning through his quest window, I soon spotted a quest I could offer some advice on.
You have no idea how lucky you are to have an NPC like me.
