The longer the journey, the more relaxed the start should be. Now, at the entrance to Gunguk, a wrong direction could lead to errors that would spiral out of control later.

The Regressor wanted to head east toward Claudia, but if the Golden Palace were to be located westward, that’d mean a lot of wasted effort. Even he wouldn’t want that, so he went to great lengths to gather any clues about the general location—while being somewhat economical.

The camps of Gunguk were now experiencing the economic boom funded by the Regressor's investment—a sort of benevolent retaliation.

Hmph. If only he’d given me that money.

Regardless, while people may lie, money never does. The Regressor's generous spending yielded some results, though it took a while, leading to an overnight stay at the camp.

Unlike the nights in Gunguk, the camp here was not silent. Even in the dead of night, people entered and exited each other’s tents without hesitation. Riders sped down the narrow paths, people scattered with startled yelps, only to curse as they resumed their own paths. There were no street lamps, but the various lamps people carried and the flickering alchemical lights from roadside alchemists created a gentle glow that filled the camp.

In the midst of it all, I strolled through the camp, a deck of cards in my hand.

“Finally, I’m restocking properly.”

Lately, I’d been using up cards without replenishing them. While the power in the clovers could be recharged slowly, the diamonds were wearing down fast.

Some were entirely lost, and others were so worn that the back showed through. They couldn’t be used for any kind of game now. And since I’d made that skewer in the Abyss, my deck only had two diamond cards left, making it painfully unbalanced.

A magician’s deck should be complete pairs. This was just a mess of random cards.

But the journey was pressing. I’d received a little spending money from the Regressor, so I decided to find a skilled alchemist to take on the task.

I walked through the night market, searching for an alchemist.

The scavengers sold discarded scraps from Golden Mirror’s creations, meaning there were buyers. Gunguk had all sorts of merchants who transformed raw materials into valuable items. Those with juggernauts might have set up in larger marketplaces, but smaller vendors usually gathered in camps like this. Here, I had to carefully pick someone with the right skill.

Unlike Gunguk’s strictly ordered system, Gunguk’s market was a battleground where even buying a piece of scrap metal could lead to a brawl.

“Certified rum from the Drum Company! Fifty liters for 990 alke! Not a coin less!”

“Damn it! The standard price is 500! Why are you marking it up by double?!”

“Don’t like it? Then go sell it yourself. Next!”

Even buying simple items required prolonged haggling.

“I’m looking for someone to fix my ride!”

“What kind?”

“Gear-driven bike!”

“Gear-driven? Must be a Maximilien model. Damn, you’re riding an antique...”

“What do you care what I ride? If you won’t fix it, then scram!”

“I never said I wouldn’t. Show me the way, but you’d better pay well.”

Parts and people were so different that each had to be adjusted.

“Are you wealthy?”

“Um, sir, would it be too much trouble to buy me a drink of rum…?”

And, of course, there were the beggars looking to mooch even a sip.

Naturally, the crowd also included swindlers. Just then, an old man in rags managed to grab someone by the collar across the table from him.

“Cough, cough. You scoundrel! How can this be worth only 14 alke?!”

“Please, sir, calm down and check the scale. How could I pay more for scrap iron of this weight?”

“It’s a broken arrowhead found in the cracks of the castle wall! It can’t be scrap! And! I swear it was over 30 kilograms by feel, so why does it only show 28 here?!”

“Would the scale lie? Perhaps your sense of touch is at fault… if you only have three fingers, perhaps it feels heavier than it is.”

Laughter echoed among the onlookers. The old man’s face turned red with embarrassment, but no amount of yelling could change the reading on the scale. If he wanted to change it, he’d have to press the pedal on the side.

“Oops, I slipped.”

It looked like the scale was placed atop a wooden box, but the box was part of the setup. I feigned a slip and casually stepped on the pedal on the box’s side. The reading on the scale jumped three notches.

For a moment, silence fell over the crowd. Walking through the calm I’d created, I called out as I passed.

“Oops, sorry about that! Best of luck selling!”

“You, you…”

Soon, the noise of curses and shouting erupted behind me. A fist gripped with three fingers slammed into the merchant’s face, and the man ended up losing three of his own teeth, which were precious gold crowns. He scrambled to pick them up, but nimble scavengers had already hidden them in their sleeves.

It was chaos, but none of it concerned me.

“Quite noisy here. Don’t they manage things?”

Muttering to myself, I left the commotion behind and looked around at the now quieter street.

What I needed to create was a multipurpose alchemical tool focused on portability over power or durability. It was a product that took much more effort than its materials would suggest.

I needed an exceptional alchemist for this—one who could make it in a single night.

While walking and pondering, I noticed a small tent with a simple, lackluster sign.

[Anything Goes.]

Hmm. That sign exuded confidence. But could it really be trusted? People who say “anything goes” rarely like it when you actually request anything.

Well, let’s see their skills. I pushed the tent flap aside and stepped inside.

“Come forward. A customer has arrived…”

“…Spy.”

A familiar face looked up at me. Ah, it was the woman I’d seen earlier.

I wondered why someone of her rank in Gunguk would be handling small tasks like these, but then, even a king like myself was wandering about. Let’s not pry into personal matters.

Let’s confirm one thing first.

“This is a place that can make ‘anything,’ right? Not a place that turns ‘anything’ to dust? I saw that plow turn to ashes earlier.”

“…Get out.”

“I’d like to commission an alchemical device.”

I spread my cards on the table. Originally a deck of playing cards… but now burned, worn, and tattered in various places.

She picked up one of the more frayed cards. The Eight of Diamonds, slender and pointed, one of my prized creations. She examined it closely, muttering.

“…This.”

“What do you think? It’s well-worn, but it’s been….”

“…Trash. Who made this?”

Seriously? Talking down on someone’s work?

Wait. Stay calm. She doesn’t know I made this. No matter her lack of social grace, she wouldn’t insult someone’s work right in front of its creator.

This could actually be an opportunity. I’ll make her feel embarrassed once I reveal it’s mine.

“Ahem. Actually, that’s my work. Made it when I was young, with all the knowledge and funds I could gather…”

“…Somehow.”

“Somehow? Somehow?! Criticizing someone’s blood, sweat, and tears when you can’t even manage a decent farm! Ever heard of consideration? I held back earlier, but let’s be honest. You’re not cut out to live off farming! Even the laziest farmer would be an agricultural deity compared to you!”

As I flared up, she shrank back a bit, making a weak excuse.

“…Wasteful. Excessive.”

Is that an excuse or an insult? Let’s see what she’s thinking.

‘…Expensive and complex. Too much effort for too little value. Using precious alchemy and advanced techniques just to unfold some thin wires? It’s highly inefficient. Better to craft other weapons….’

I had to admit, her reasoning was sound. Since I could read her thoughts, I’d let it slide. If I weren’t a mind reader, I might have grabbed her collar.

“…What do you need? Repairs?”

“Yes, repairs, I suppose. I want all thirteen cards in this style restored. Please do them all. I’ll pay any amount.”

Skewer, hook, recurve bow, spear, sickle, revolver, wire, hatchet, shield, and sword.

Most had been damaged or destroyed in battles since leaving the capital, Amitegraad. I’d left the revolver with Ria, and even though I’d salvaged as much of the wire as possible, more than half was lost.

Up to now, I hadn’t had time to replenish them. But now was my chance to restore my full arsenal, not that it’d see much use.

She stared intensely at the cards before shaking her head.

“…Can’t do it.”

“Didn’t you just say they’re trash? And now you’re saying you can’t do it? Is this how business is done these days?”

“…No. Making them is easy. But…”

“But?”

“…It’s a hassle.”

Are you really a businesswoman? Refusing work because it’s a hassle?

Of course, it wasn’t her real reason, but let’s try mind-reading.

‘…It’s not about difficulty; it’s just too much work. Making transforming weapons is easy, but making them change into card form… that’s a painstaking process, like weaving thread one stitch at a time. And creating specific shapes is more art than technique.’

She really does know her stuff. I had to admit she figured it out in no time.

It took me ages to make them. Even the simplest diamond skewer took an entire night to complete. I won’t even mention how long it took to create the full set.

…Well, that’s why I wanted her to do it.

“If you stayed up all night, you could finish three cards, right?”

“…No.”

“Come on, isn’t making money why you’re here? Why turn down a customer? Don’t you want to earn?”

‘…So noisy. I’m not here for the money…’

She sighed and raised her hand.

“…Instead.”

She placed her hand on the metal table. The tattoo on her arm gleamed, and energy flowed through the iron, turning it bright white. As her palm left the table, something strange happened—the iron, solid just moments ago, softened, as if under her touch, it had become molten but remained cool.

Instead of melting, the alchemy softened the iron into a pliable, thread-like form. She wound it around her palm several times, thinning it out even further until it became a delicate strand. Then, she grabbed it all at once and scattered it over my card.

A flash, and a moment later…

“…Here.”

Before me lay a fully restored Eight of Diamonds.

I couldn’t help but express my amazement.

“Hold on. You restored it in a second? Were you pretending this whole time?”

“…The structure was the same. I just copied it.”

Even if the structure was the same, to reforge it and attach it to the wire structure? And with elasticity, no less! No wonder solo alchemists worked under guild names; if they did all the raw material processing and product crafting themselves, they’d be a one-person factory.

The power to understand and change structures instantly, alchemy.

With everyone learning it, Gunguk’s people paradoxically had little need for one another. If they wanted something, they made it themselves; they only traded for things they couldn’t create.

It’s no wonder they didn’t form a large society. They had no real need for each other…

“Wonderful! Now, let’s ride this momentum and fix the other cards!”

“…No.”

‘…I could restore only the missing pieces here, but other cards have fixed shapes when transformed. That’s an art form, not something I can easily handle.’

“Tch. Fine. So, how much will this cost?”

This was the crucial moment. While the Regressor had given me a spending allowance, he hadn’t asked for change. That meant anything I saved would go straight into my own pocket.

To spend like a noble, you’ve got to earn like a scavenger. I waited, reading her mind, to gauge her price.