Under the rain of jewels pouring from the sky, the wide‑eyed knight girl tried to catch them one by one with her hands, but the attempt failed almost immediately.
Her palms were soon overflowing with gems, yet the stones kept falling in an endless cascade.
Perhaps because she had been poor for a full sixteen years, every bit of Leif’s attention was fixed on those jewels. She was terrified this scene, beautiful as a dream, would pop like a soap bubble at the slightest touch.
On the ground, the area of scorched earth and the untouched, lush grassland were sharply divided. Against that backdrop, the glittering gems that rained down were shockingly vivid.
It wasn’t until several hard gems smacked into her, leaving shallow red marks on her forehead, that Leif finally accepted this was all real.
The joy of gaining a huge fortune had already rushed to her head. Or rather, she was deliberately pushing away certain details from the “dragon‑slaying” just now.
If you trimmed off the beginning and the end, all that remained was: she used the Dragon‑Slaying Art, and then she got a reward. Simple as that.
Leif forcibly pressed down that tiny flutter in her heart. That kind of feeling didn’t suit a knight’s identity. And to feel pity for an evil creature that would eventually die under her blade was definitely not the mentality a professional gamer like her was supposed to have.
After she stored this unexpected windfall into her system backpack, Leif clearly saw that beneath the experience and level display at the top left of the system interface, two new wealth bars had appeared. One was silver, representing normal currency; the other was gold, representing rare currency.
“One, two, three…”
Leif had never bothered to count how many digits those two bars could display at maximum—honestly, even the biggest whales on the spending ladder could never hope to cap them out.
As for Leif, she had always relied on seventy percent grind and thirty percent skill. The occasional bit of light spending was only for buying some flashy effects.
Yet at this moment, both value displays were completely filled with the digit “9”.
Leif counted once.
The normal currency bar had fifteen nines.
The rare currency bar had twelve nines.
And the level she’d never cared much about had, out of a total of 120 levels, now quietly risen to level 10.
Leif opened her backpack and found that the space which should have been packed full of jewels was still empty. That left a faint sourness in her chest.
—Once it’s turned into system data, can I still get it back?
But when she tried to pull a single gem out of the backpack with her mind, a hex‑cut purple crystal suddenly appeared in her hand. The values in the two currency bars didn’t decrease at all.
That meant not only could the wealth be turned back into physical form, but also that any fortune exceeding what the display could show had not disappeared.
Leif tested it several times, taking gems out and putting them back, over and over, and found the mechanism perfectly reliable.
Only then did she feel at ease enough to toss her last five gold Gosha coins into the backpack as well. Those coins were swallowed all the same, turned into invisible data that vanished like a grain of salt dissolving into the sea—without even leaving a ripple.
“Tch. The balance is already broken.”
Leif frowned. When the shock of sudden wealth finally settled, she gave this verdict from the instinct of a veteran gamer.
Although the roar of the summoning array thundered by her ears, loud enough to show the summoner’s impatience, Natiaveda still floated in midair, resting her cheek in her palm. The smug smile on her face bit by bit melted away.
If Leif had looked up once when the rain of gems finished, she would have discovered the demon dragon was still there.
But she just happened not to.
At first, the little knight had been so frightened she’d gone completely dumb, and that was truly entertaining—especially when she lay on the ground picking up jewels, trying to scoop them all into her arms, then realized she couldn’t and ended up kneeling there with a furrowed brow. Far too cute.
But then the little knight calmed down. From time to time she muttered things like:
“The currency system is broken.”
“With this, how are you supposed to incentivize players to make money? This setup just breeds laziness.”
“Feels like I just bought a cheat…”
“The game’s playability just took a hit…”
…And then, the knight girl simply turned around and left.
This was nothing like the effect the demon dragon had envisioned.
Did the little knight not like shiny little stones?
—
A line of light had already appeared along the horizon, and a thin layer of dew clung to the blades of grass.
The big black dog that was usually tied up at the village entrance had been shut in for several days while the divine envoy was here, lest it disturb such honored company, but it had finally been let out again.
Hearing footsteps from afar, it sniffed the air. It seemed to catch a whiff of a scent that was strange, something that did not belong to the soil of Eide Village.
This black short‑haired dog, born and raised in Eide and never having seen the world outside, shrank its tail and flattened its ears back. Facing the figure that drew nearer and nearer, it barked a few times, as if sounding the alarm for its master inside.
The brown‑haired knight walked forward at an unhurried pace. A few households by the village gate were stirred awake by the dog and opened their doors. The bleary‑eyed men and women took one look at her, instantly sobered, and their expressions turned complicated.
Leif wanted to call out a greeting.
But the villagers slammed their doors shut with a bang.
Only the big black dog remained.
It seemed to have already forgotten that just two months ago, Leif had scratched its chin and played with it. After realizing the newcomer’s frame was not that big and didn’t look very threatening, it grew bolder, barked louder, and bared its teeth, acting like it was about to bite her. The other dogs in the village, startled awake, joined in the chorus.
Leif didn’t hold it against them. She only found it a little dull, so she quickened her steps and returned to the house where she’d been staying.
Three days had finally passed. She had long since wanted to leave.
Though the villagers no longer drove her away outright, their rejection—and that faint, unspoken fear on their faces—made Leif feel extremely uncomfortable.
But before coming home, she had never imagined it would be like this.
She’d thought she would be welcomed back as a hero in glory. She’d prepared what she should say when the adults asked her to tell the children stories of her adventures. She’d even thought about her farewell speech—how to help the elders who’d watched her grow up accept that she was going to travel far away and might not return for a long time, how to ease their reluctance…
But none of that happened.
The more she had looked forward to returning at first, the more she wanted to leave now.
She hurriedly took out the letter the divine envoy had left her in her pack, and tore off the belt painted with ivy leaves—a symbol of the Temple’s eternal prosperity—with a few quick motions.
There were two letters inside.
—To Leif White:
Leif:
Three days ago you received the Temple’s seal. You have already become a trainee knight. But perhaps only now do you truly have some understanding of what it means to be a knight.
What time is it now? I’m guessing the dawn glow has only just spread across the sky, the summer heat has yet to begin, and the morning breeze is cool—the best hour to set out.
You forced yourself to stay in the village, but I’m certain that in these three days you have wanted to leave countless times. You could not bear to wait until you were out of the village to open this letter, because you were eager to know why I insisted you stay three extra days.
The first lesson I want to teach you is endurance. It may feel a little cruel, but remember, becoming a knight is not simply a process of gaining glory again and again.
You are a young girl. I cannot look at you without thinking of what I once experienced myself. Everything beautiful that you wish to pursue will be shadowed by the doubting gaze of the world, following you wherever you go.
This road will not become easier because you are a girl—it may only be harder. Whether you want to go on, that choice is yours.
You can stop anywhere, marry an ordinary man, become a common wife and mother. Then no one will ever call you an unchaste monster.
But if you still want to continue your journey, then believe me: every lord’s domain will be the finest knight academy.
You are sixteen now, a brave young lady. I’ve heard of your origins, visited your hometown, and know what you have done. I will never treat you as a hot‑house flower.
You must know that in all my life, I have hardly ever met a girl who could hack through thorns without ever harboring the thought of retreat. But I believe you are an exception.
Allow me, presumptuous as it may be, to call myself your mentor, though we only met once, brave and good girl.
If you feel lost about where to go next, you can take the other letter to the royal capital of Natiwoods, and you will gain something there. But where you ultimately go, and where you finally stop, only you have the answer.
Along the way, you will fight demons from the outside world, and from within your own heart.
May the Temple protect you. May all good fortune and virtue walk with you. One day, everything you have given will be repaid. I will bless you always.
Deborah
Temple Calendar Year 937, May 15
—
After reading the letter, Leif folded it closed.
The words of that divine envoy, whom she had only met once, seemed to give her a bit of courage. Leif could almost picture her face shrouded in holy radiance, each sentence from her lips so soothing and gentle.
She placed the envoy’s letter into her backpack, then quickly packed up her things.
Then she almost automatically rose and walked to the door of the next room, raised her hand, and knocked a few times on the worm‑eaten wooden door.
There was no reply.
Only then did she remember that the envoy… that demon dragon… had already left.
—Have I gotten that used to having a traveling companion, this quickly?
The loneliness of traveling alone was probably the first thing she needed to learn to endure.
After spacing out for a while, Leif went outside and woke Lily, who was sleeping against a tree, then fed the slightly grumpy red mare three carrots.
One person, one horse, soon left Eide Village behind.
Only after Leif had gone far away did a few villagers finally poke their heads out. But this time, when the brown‑haired knight left, she did not look back even once.
—
Temple Calendar Year 937, May 23
Natiwoods Kingdom, City of Tim
It was the rainy season. The air was stuffy and hot, the sky overcast so thickly the sun couldn’t be seen. Black clouds blanketed the sky, and from time to time a bolt of lightning tore across them, followed by deafening thunder that made people’s hearts quail.
Even in Tim, where the rainy season dragged on and on, this counted as an unusually foul day.
Heaven seemed to be in a rage, hammering bean‑sized raindrops mercilessly against Tim’s tall city walls, and against the city gate that looked almost cramped in comparison to the pressed‑in crowd.
The strange thing was: even in such heavy rain, people still thronged to enter Tim.
On the towering black‑stone walls, the city officials peered down at the foreign envoys and entourages swarming below like ants. They exchanged glances, and a mocking smile—peculiar to officials of a great power looking down on small nations’ people—appeared on their faces.
Far back in the line, the brown‑haired knight girl had already dismounted. She followed behind the crowded mass of people, shuffling slowly towards the gate step by step.
She had given her rain cloak to a little girl she met on the road earlier. Now the rain lashed directly against her pale but resolute face, her hair plastered to the sides of her cheeks, her clothes nearly soaked through. In her hand she led a bay mare just as bedraggled from the downpour.
The horse followed the knight silently. When they ran into dense traffic, it obediently hunkered down and yielded the way.
At first, the people around them were curious to see a girl traveling alone.
But as soon as their eyes fell on the massive cleaver strapped across her back, they hurriedly suppressed their questions.
Just as it was about to be Leif’s turn to enter the city, a voice boomed down from the walls:
“The city is already full. To ensure public order, no more entries today. After the ball is over…”
The guard captain’s arrogant words were like a ladle of molten iron dumped onto ice. The crowd at the gate instantly erupted in angry shouts, and voices in all sorts of Deya accents rang out from every direction.
“My lady has come here precisely for the prince’s ball!”
“If we can’t attend the prince’s ball, what’s the point of entering the city?”
“This is an insult!”
“Her Highness has traveled so far. Are you saying she cannot even pass your gate?”
“So this is Natiwoods’ way of treating guests?”
“Lord Guard Captain, is this by order of your prince? As the true ruler of such a mighty kingdom, His Highness should not be so rude to foreign friends who care about his marriage…”
Impatience flashed across the guard captain’s face. He flapped his fan‑sized hand twice beside his head as though he were shooing away buzzing mosquitoes. He couldn’t care less that his words had offended everyone.
He only waved over a nearby attendant and muttered a few words into his ear.
The soldiers at the gate tightened their line, blocking carriages and people trying to take advantage of the chaos to force their way in.
A lower‑ranked official with the look of a clerk stepped forward after receiving the orders from the attendant. He smiled warmly at the anxious foreigners.
“This is for your safety as well. After all, with the prince’s ball imminent, there is limited lodging in the city’s guest manors.
“His Highness certainly does not wish to turn beautiful princesses away from his gates—after all, among them may be his future queen. So it’s not as if there’s no room for… flexibility…”
The boiling clamor gradually subsided.
A lady‑in‑waiting, on behalf of her anxious mistress, asked:
“What kind of flexibility?”
Another voice called out:
“What conditions?”
“The crowd is large and complex. Maintaining order is costly.” The clerk waited a good while before finally speaking, still wearing that genial smile. “After entering the city, none of you would want your own safety to go unprotected, would you?”
The crowd fell quiet again.
The clerk continued, “If you could each pay a certain amount of ‘safety money’, the gates of Tim, royal city of Natiwoods, will be very glad to open for you.”
A foreign envoy asked:
“How much?”
“How many Gosha coins?” the envoy’s companion demanded.
“A hundred gold Gosha coins.” The clerk held up one finger, then tucked his hand back into his sleeve.
Only those closer to the gate heard him clearly, and they passed the demand on to those behind them.
After that brief lull, the crowd exploded into even louder protest than before.
“This is nothing but looting in a crisis!”
“A hundred gold Gosha coins—that’s almost half a year’s tax income for our kingdom!”
“All this just for a ball ticket? Outrageous!”
Up on the wall, the guard captain had already gone back inside the city. The higher‑ranking officials left one after another, leaving only the low‑ranking clerks and the gate soldiers to deal with the outsiders—who clearly didn’t have much oil or water to squeeze out of them.
As the strongest and richest kingdom in the southeast of the Deya Continent, Natiwoods’s prince consort title was indeed tempting. Not to mention the old king, bedridden for years, had only one son.
Rumor had it the old king did not have long to live and might not last out the year. And the reason why Prince Teni—who had always refused to discuss marriage—was now in such a hurry to choose a bride was mainly to fulfill the old king’s wish to see his beloved son wed before he passed away.
Thus, although it was still unknown which girl the prince’s bride title would fall to, preparations for the wedding itself had long since begun.
The date was set for the twenty‑fifth day of the seventh month, the same day the kingdom had been founded three hundred years earlier. The wedding would be held together with the three‑hundred‑year founding celebration, destined to be a once‑in‑a‑century grand occasion.
Because the time frame for selecting a bride was so short, Natiwoods could not possibly send emissaries to each country to inspect the character and looks of every princess and noble lady.
So when the news spread that Prince Teni of Natiwoods was choosing a bride openly, it sparked an uproar.
The rulers of all nations quickly did the math: if they could secure a marriage with Natiwoods, then the princess they sent off would soon ascend from princess‑consort to true queen. The rights and benefits a queen could earn for her motherland were incomparable.
So all the kingdoms sent their unmarried, suitable‑aged princesses to Tim, the royal city.
Putting aside the political profit such a match could bring, the princesses themselves also looked forward to marrying Prince Teni.
Among all the young princes on the continent, he was one of the most handsome. Those who had seen him in person said his face was fine and lovely, almost feminine, yet in the saddle he showed no trace of softness. His riding and archery were excellent, and he had mastered the seven liberal arts of arithmetic, geometry, music, astronomy, grammar, rhetoric, and logic—a talent proficient both in civil and martial arts.
Moreover, though he was the heir of a great power and future king of Natiwoods, he showed no arrogance, but was instead gentle, approachable, and impeccably courteous.
Such a prince, praised everywhere on the Deya Continent, was naturally the dream of countless girls. But the disparity in national strength was vast, and even princesses did not all dare to harbor such extravagant hopes.
Yet as death drew near, the old king seemed to have realized that power and wealth were all things you could not take with you. Having spent his life on horseback and in affairs of state, he did not want his son to follow in his footsteps.
He wished his child could truly marry a girl he loved.
This gave the princesses and noble daughters of smaller countries a chance at their dreams. They hurried to this kingdom.
From the time the foreign princesses took up residence in the guest manors, there were a little more than two months until the wedding. During that period, the prince would hold several small banquets and pay calls to a few of the princesses. The final choice of princess‑consort would then be announced at an unprecedentedly grand ball.
The girl who danced the last dance with the prince that night would become the most exalted woman in this land, sharing the blessings of many nations with him.
Although the old king had given these instructions, his ministers all knew: only a princess or highborn noble lady could marry the prince. Even so, the difference between one princess and another was vast.
The shrewd guard captains needed only a glance at each carriage to tell which “princesses” actually had power behind them.
The princesses of the great kingdoms had, naturally, been courted long in advance by the reception officials who jostled for the chance to serve them, and were already ushered into the city ahead of time after much fawning.
The rest—girls from obviously poor, obscure countries—could only line up like commoners.
Leif and her one horse had been shoved several paces back by the crowd.
The gate soldiers used rough wooden staves to drive back those who looked too shabby. For someone like Leif, traveling without a single servant and not even carrying an umbrella, those staves came down especially hard.
Leif dodged as best she could, but still took several hits to her arms and legs. She had to work hard to keep the little red mare calm, so it wouldn’t panic and hurt anyone in the press.
The rain grew heavier. Raindrops stung Leif’s eyes until she could barely keep them open. Lily shook her head from time to time, flinging big muddy droplets of rain and sweat into Leif’s face.
Suddenly, someone came to stand at her side.
Leif kept her head down and saw only a pair of white shoes and the hem of a white robe. Strangely, the robe and shoes were spotlessly clean, untouched by any mud.
“Little one, the rain is too heavy.”
Leif realized the drumming on her head had stopped. She looked up.
A gentle, unfamiliar face came into view—golden eyes, light flax‑colored hair. Even with a few strands wet from the rain, she was breathtakingly beautiful.
The woman held a parasol over her head. Clad in a court‑style white robe, she was surely a lady envoy of some noble house.
Leif instinctively compared her with the white‑robed envoy in her memory, noticing this woman’s robe was somewhat old. The material was decent, but the cut was not particularly fine.
The lady envoy pointed to a four‑wheeled carriage not far away, its rain canopy already open, and spoke kindly:
“My lady saw you standing there for a while and couldn’t bear it. She sent me to shelter you from the rain…”
Leif murmured a soft thanks and looked towards the carriage, which was as worn as the envoy’s robe.
The large canopy did not match the narrow little carriage at all. The oilcloth curtains hung low and heavy. Leif could not see the princess’s face behind them. She could only glimpse the curve of a small chin under the curtain, and beneath that, a slim, white neck.
…Almost as shabby as she was.
Could she really be a princess?
“A hundred gold Gosha coins—utterly unacceptable!”
“Exactly!”
“The price is outrageous. If the prince doesn’t choose her, they won’t refund the money. The loss would be huge.”
The discontent in the crowd had not died down; if anything, it grew even fiercer.
“Heh, can’t even pay a hundred gold Gosha coins.”
The clerk pinched the little mustache on his chin, his genial smile fading into open contempt.
“If that is the sincerity you offer when trying to marry our prince, perhaps you shouldn’t have come at all. If you think the terms unreasonable, you’re welcome to leave.”
Then, as if just remembering something, he added in a languid tone:
“There are only twenty slots left. First come, first served.”
Once the crowd learned that there were only twenty places left, all complaints fell silent at once.
After all, even the poorest among them were lords with land, subjects, and tax income. For some small kingdoms, a hundred gold Gosha coins might not be as trivial as it was to a great kingdom, but it was at least within the realm of possibility.
Their initial plan had simply been to save money—to use the collective uproar to pressure the gate officials into dropping the “safety money”.
But now that the limited slots had been announced, the foreigners who had been united in outrage suddenly began to see one another as competitors.
There were only twenty places, after all.
A foreign envoy raised a pouch containing a hundred gold Gosha coins, indicating he was willing to pay.
The clerk took it, counted it quickly, then grinned and signaled the soldiers to let them pass.
A small carriage train rolled through the gate.
Once the first appeared, there was naturally a second, a third…
Realizing they could no longer pressure the clerks into lowering the “safety money”, the representatives of some small kingdoms cooled down, weighed the numbers, and decided the price was too high and their princess’s chances too low.
Sullenly, they withdrew.
Inside the carriages, the princesses and noble girls sighed in disappointment. Many of them did not truly expect to become Prince Teni’s bride, but they had dearly wished to see him at the ball, this man whose beauty was said to rival the gods, and to watch his legendary dancing with their own eyes.
The number of people left grew smaller.
Leif kept an eye on the princess who had sent her envoy over with the parasol.
To be honest, she wasn’t entirely sure that girl could even be called a “princess”.
The princesses in her mind looked like Sofie had—back when Sofie had casually handed her a hundred gold Gosha coins, there hadn’t been a trace of hesitation.
But when she looked at that shabby four‑wheeled carriage, and the mismatched rain canopy, Leif estimated that even brand‑new, such a carriage wouldn’t be worth ten Gosha coins.
By contrast, other countries’ princesses at least had a carriage train of some sort when they traveled, with a dozen or more attendants following behind.
Yet this one had only a single maid, and two guards.
“This is the last slot.”
The clerk at the gate happily toyed with the pile of gold on the table, not even bothering to look up.
“Hurry and pay your safety money, I have to get back to report.”
“I…I have met your prince once before.”
The girl had just turned fifteen. Her hair was a soft, light chestnut brown, slightly curled; her grey eyes were large and round. She was small, in both height and frame, but her face was still a little round and baby‑soft, making Leif think of some kind of fuzzy little animal that would feel wonderful to squeeze.
At the moment, her expression was a bit stiff and nervous.
“He once said he very much looked forward to meeting me again, and invited me to come visit him in his capital…”
The clerk heard no jingling coins, only pleasant words he found utterly irritating.
He glanced up with a frown and looked at the girl who had just stepped down from the shabby carriage.
“Well now, I thought this was only one of the carriages a real princess sent for her attendants. Our prince may be recruiting from the whole continent, but he is still looking for at least the daughter of a prince or marquis.”
He stressed the word “attendants”, then looked pointedly at the carriage behind her and snorted.
“And you say you have an understanding with His Highness? You must be dreaming. What girl doesn’t have that kind of dream? I’ve heard some version of that line no less than twenty times today.
“These days, anyone dares come for the ball. There’s even someone behind you who can’t afford an umbrella. Do you truly think cats and dogs can become princess‑consort?”
The penniless knight blinked in surprise and silently glanced at the wealth display in her top‑left interface.
—Too bad I’m the only one who can see those numbers.
“I am a princess,” the little princess said. “I want to go in.”
“Then pay the safety money.”
The clerk looked past her and noticed that those who had been in line had all fallen away. Only the girl who couldn’t afford an umbrella remained.
He judged that the former held far greater potential for extortion.
“I don’t have that much money…”
The poor little princess mustered a feeble threat.
“…But if Prince Teni knows I came, he will surely come out to receive me. You shouldn’t block me like this…”
“Even if you don’t have cash, you must have something of value…”
The clerk’s sharp eyes had picked out the necklace around her neck. It was an elegant design, with a deep purple crystal the size of a fingertip set at the center.
He suppressed his excitement, put on a nitpicking air, and squinted at it.
“That trinket might just barely do.”
The little princess’s eyes lit up. Her hand rose to the crystal at her throat, and when she unfastened the necklace, she could not keep a hint of reluctance from her face.
This was the last thing her grandmother had left her, she thought. But she wanted even more to see the prince again.
If she could not see him once more before he married, she would regret it all her life.
The clerk snatched the necklace from her hand.
He held it up to the dim light filtering through the gloomy sky and studied it, as if judging the crystal’s quality. He knew nothing about gemstones, but he could see that this one was perfectly clear, with a soft luster.
Unlike most crystals, which were riddled with flaws, this gem was flawless, its color deep and rich. The cut was exquisite, and the long years of wearing somehow gave it a soft, warm sheen.
—This would fetch a fine price. At least two hundred gold Gosha, if not more.
The little princess clearly had no idea what it was worth. The clerk still wanted to squeeze more out of her, so he sniffed dismissively:
“This isn’t worth much. Don’t you have any actual money?”
By now the rain had stopped. The lady envoy had put away her parasol.
Leif squeezed the water from her bangs, then strode forward.
She stepped in front of the little princess, who had been driven to speechlessness and was about to hand over what might be her last few coins.
She placed her hand on the table in front of the clerk.
There had been a jewel in her palm, but after a brief thought, she willed it back into her backpack and replaced it with Gosha coins instead.
At that moment, Lily flicked her body uneasily. She clearly felt the odd, sudden weight in the feed pouch usually reserved for treats.
The clerk was still stroking the purple crystal on the necklace when his hand suddenly came up empty.
In the blink of an eye, the necklace was in the hand of the brown‑haired girl too poor to buy an umbrella.
The clerk was about to explode, but at the sight of the long, deadly cleaver on her back, he swallowed hard instead and croaked:
“W‑what are you planning to do?”
The little princess looked at Leif in confusion, not understanding her intent.
The brown‑haired girl squeezed her hand and urged her to put the coins she’d just taken out back into her purse.
Then she turned back to the clerk, and he nearly fell off his chair under the weight of her gaze.
But Leif smiled, bright and sunny.
“You might not be able to tell, but I really am rich. I’ll pay her safety money for her.”
The lady envoy’s finely shaped eyebrows arched slightly.
The clerk’s eyes remained fixed on the purple crystal necklace in Leif’s hand. His tone instantly softened.
“No need, really, no need. The last slot… since she says she knows the prince… I think we can make an exception… that necklace is enough…”
Leif ignored him.
She walked over to Lily, who was shuffling uncomfortably under her new burden, and untied the feed pouch from the mare’s saddle.
The clerk and the gate soldiers watched, dumbstruck, as the brown‑haired girl hefted a pouch so heavy it was nearly being dragged out of shape by its contents.
They watched her reach in and pull out two swollen carrots, an overripe cabbage, and a handful of sprouted green beans, and toss them all on the ground.
Then Leif held the pouch by the mouth with one hand and the bottom with the other, and tipped two hundred and forty kilograms of metal currency onto the table in front of the clerk.
In an instant, a rain of tiny iron‑black coins poured out, clinking and chiming as they fell.
These were the smallest denomination in use across the Deya Continent: iron Gosha coins.
Coin materials were ranked by value: gold, silver, copper, iron.
By standard exchange across the continent, one gold Gosha equaled sixty silver Gosha, three hundred and sixty copper Gosha, or three thousand six hundred iron Gosha.
Iron Gosha were minted thin and small, barely larger than peas, each weighing about two‑thirds of a gram. They were usually used for everyday purchases—two iron Gosha could buy a small, filling bun with no filling in Eide Village.
For large transactions, iron Gosha had to be weighed. This was so inconvenient that the other denominations were preferred.
Now they formed little hills upon the table.
The clerk’s mouth hung open. He heaved his fat body a bit to the side to avoid being pelted—that was the only reason he wasn’t buried under an iron rain.
He swore this was the first time in his life he had ever seen so much money.
“Please weigh them. See if it’s enough.”
Leif bent down to pick up the carrots, cabbage, and bean sprouts one by one and stuffed them back into the pouch, then slung it over Lily’s back again.
“Why did you…?”
The little princess looked from the piled‑up iron Gosha to Leif.
From the brown‑haired girl, she smelled a strong, honest poverty.
She could almost picture Leif rising before dawn every day, sowing and fertilizing in a vegetable patch, harvesting fresh greens and hauling them to market to sell, haggling with picky customers… finally earning those iron coins one by one.
It seemed to her that every coin on that table was soaked with Leif’s sweat and tears.
Yet she had taken years of such labor and poured them all out in a single gesture, just to pay the fee for a stranger.
“Why would you help me?”
Leif did not answer.
But the princess soon learned that this brown‑haired girl was no simple market hawker.
The clerk had wanted to make life difficult for Leif, but she quickly produced a letter of introduction bearing the central Temple’s seal, along with a black knight’s ribbon—proof that she was a knight sent here by special mandate of the Temple’s core.
The poor clerk had no choice but to have the soldiers sweep the coins together and pile them on the scale.
The weight checked out with no shortage, but his heart still bled.
As he watched the knight and the little princess leave, his yellowed teeth ground against each other so hard they nearly shattered.
“Miss Knight…” The little princess hesitated. “Why did you really help me?”
“You don’t need to thank me. I recently fought a fierce battle with a terrifying monster. As a reward for my courage, I received an enormous sum of prize money.”
Leif straightened, her face serious.
“I’ve tasted poverty for a very long time. The scene just now reminded me of that time.
“Back then, how I wished I could make those people who measured others only by their wealth feel what it was like to be crushed beneath my fortune…”
The lady envoy, walking just behind them, murmured softly:
“Mmm. Two hundred and forty kilograms of money is indeed enough to ‘crush’ someone…”
“…”
Leif’s hand brushed the necklace at her collar, the one she hadn’t yet returned to the little princess.
“I forgot to give this back to you.”
“But…” the princess protested, “it ought to be yours. You’ve already paid the safety fee for me.”
“I think the biggest reason I did that,” Leif said, turning to stand behind her, her fingers lightly brushing aside the girl’s fine, soft chestnut curls, “is because your neck is simply too beautiful.
“Even without any ornament it would not be diminished in the least, but I can’t bear to see such a lovely neck left bare.
“This necklace was made to amplify your radiance… Who could stand to see such a beautiful face shadowed by sorrow?”
Leif bent a little and fastened the necklace around her throat again. The clasp was rather intricate, and she squinted at it for a long while before she finally adjusted it to sit at just the right place.
“That’s really…”
A faint flush rose across the princess’s cheeks. Her grey eyes shimmered as she looked at Leif, tripping over her own words for reasons she couldn’t understand.
“…really too kind of you. Thank you so much, Miss Knight.”
Leif bent one knee and lifted the princess’s hand, brushing a light kiss across the back of it.
“You shouldn’t be thanking me, but Prince Teni.”
The princess blinked.
“Why?”
Leif met her gaze.
“Because without me, he just might have missed out on the most beautiful dance partner in this world.”
The princess’s face turned even redder.
“If I did not have a mission to fulfill, I would wish only to remain by Your Highness’s side forever. May all your wishes come true, and all go smoothly for you.”
The brown‑haired knight bowed, then vaulted neatly into the saddle and urged her horse towards the place described in her letter.
Just before she turned the corner at the end of the street, she looked back and gave the little princess a nod.
“Lady Envoy,” the princess asked softly, “why is my heart beating so fast?”
