This takes place a few weeks after the Sacred Tree fell.
While the reconstruction work kept going in the Republic of Alzel, Marie and I were digging into Jirk’s scam.
“Did you find it?!”
‘We figured it out as soon as we looked. One of the victims was a wealthy merchant who collected antiques as a hobby. He apparently paid a fortune for a single teacup.’
Hearing Claire’s report, I got up from the sofa and folded the blanket.
Before I knew it, the sun was high.
Looks like I overslept.
“Wake me up earlier next time.”
‘You were tired. The Master doesn’t have to push himself. Even if he does, it won’t affect the whole situation much.’
My solo effort is probably nothing compared to the big picture.
“—I’ll go see them right away. Call Marie, too.”
‘You’re going to apologize? But the Master is the victor here. If you summon them—?’
“That’s a separate issue. Let Jirk’s fraud be known. Roland will definitely start spewing petty insults at me.”
‘It’s certainly not funny. Even if you fire back, you should keep the best material hidden for now.’
Looks like Roland’s got something on Jirk. I’ll ask him later.
“What about Marie?”
‘She’s exhausted from the soup kitchen and sleeping.’
“Because of Jirk, I can’t even take a proper break.”
Grumbling, I left the room. People were bustling everywhere.
We’re renting a room in the embassy, but everywhere’s a frenzy.
Outside, some buildings have collapsed, leaving piles of rubble.
Monsters are everywhere, and we’re short on hands and tools.
“—Really busy, huh.”
◇
The merchant Jirk swindled was the head of a trading house—a smart‑looking guy with a little moustache.
When he heard we were coming, he greeted us in a suit, already having tea ready. I was surprised; he didn’t look like he’d have time for that.
He looked nervous and said,
“Count Bartfort—what can I do for you?”
We hadn’t given a reason when we asked for a meeting.
We can’t exactly say, “Our idiot pulled a scam and tricked you…”.
He’ll meet with us only because I’m a celebrity, after all.
Marie was trembling beside me, muttering under her breath.
“That idiot… how could he fool someone like that? He’s not the reckless, stern gentleman you’d expect. If he doesn’t apologize and forgive us, what’s he going to do?”
Those five caretakers—Marie’s mother included—have it rough. I feel sorry for them.
Well, it’s not my problem.
After clearing my throat, I said,
“Ah, we’d like to talk about the goods Jirk sold you.”
When I opened the conversation, the merchant’s eyes widened.
“So that’s how it is.”
“You knew about this?”
He called a servant to fetch the item, then lowered his gaze at me.
“I figured it’d end up like this. I knew he was from the Kingdom, after all.”
He seems to know a lot about Jirk.
The talk’s moving fast, which is helpful, but the atmosphere feels off.
Marie looks uneasy too.
“Bro, isn’t something weird about him? He looks super down.”
“Why do you think that?”
While we’re whispering, a servant carefully brings over a teacup, gloved and placed in a pristine box.
Did they not realize it’s a fake?
The merchant is seriously depressed.
“Here’s the item you’re looking for.”
The cup taken out of the box shines brightly, polished and well‑kept.
Marie’s shaking.
“Do I have to tell him it’s a fake? Do I have to say it in this mood?”
Having to tell someone their treasured heirloom is a counterfeit is a role I’d hate too. But I can’t leave it all to Marie.
“Uh… well—”
When I start to speak, the merchant begins to weep.
“What’s wrong!?”
I hurriedly ask him what’s up, and he says,
“No, I’m sorry. Thinking I’ll never get a treasure like this again in my lifetime makes me sad. I wanted to keep this as a family heirloom at least.”
The fact he cherished it so much hits me hard.
“R‑really? You liked it that much?”
“Of course!”
He suddenly gets all passionate.
“Look at this translucent white! And the tone!”
He gently taps the cup, closes his eyes, and listens to the clear sound.
Marie adds,
“Oh, that’s a beautiful tone.”
He’s moved.
“This was made over five hundred years ago in a foreign land. Their tech is lost now, so it’s basically a Lost Item.”
It’s a rare piece from a vanished country.
“Wow, you know a lot about this?”
I thought he was just a victim, but he’s speaking in detail, so I ask.
Then—
“Naturally. I owned the same thing once, but it was in bad shape. This one is almost perfect. I couldn’t believe such a pristine example existed.”
“Are you sure it’s not a mistake?”
“I’m a merchant. I’m not a specialist, but I have many knowledgeable contacts. Every one of them confirmed it’s genuine. Even rival traders bowed and begged to buy it. No way it’s a fake.”
Real appraisers praised it, even shedding tears.
Marie gasps.
“It’s real!?”
The merchant starts crying again.
“But as a defeated‑nation merchant, if you ask me to hand it over, I have no choice but to comply. No, I should have offered it willingly. Still, I couldn’t give it up. I wanted to keep this one thing.”
Seeing the merchant’s frustrated tears, I shake my head.
The more I look at the cup, the more it shines—nothing like the mass‑produced junk Jirk bragged about. It’s practical yet beautiful, its curves and whiteness even make me sigh.
Did Jirk really sell a fake?
Honestly, I kinda want to take it home, but—
“No, if you’re taking good care of it, that’s fine. I just wanted to hear Jirk’s side of the story. Oh, I was shocked to learn he deals in antiquities.”
When the merchant hears that, he beams like a flower blooming.
A handsome, blushing middle‑aged man—well, I’ll stop there.
“He’s a genius! He can find tiny diamonds in the desert with ease. His intuition to spot the real thing among piles of junk is practically a supernatural talent. I’m amazed the Kingdom has such a person.”
Jirk being praised like that? Marie and I can’t believe it.
Then what was all this before?
“Um… could you tell us anyone else who knows Jirk? We’ll keep the cup, that’s fine.”
The merchant cries tears of joy.
“Thank you! I was prepared to lose everything, yet the Kingdom’s hero is such a gentleman! Rumors are useless!”
Rumors? Are they that bad about me?
What do they think of me?
Then I asked about the people who bought Jirk’s goods.
◇
“Look at this painting. It was treated like trash in a dirty shop, but he found it. He rescued a priceless work!”
“I’m completely smitten with Jirk’s talent. I feel pathetic for not being able to support him now. His aesthetic eye is genuine.”
“Among many forgeries, his ability to pick only the real ones—no, it’s a gift from the heavens. It’s beyond words. He’s chosen by the god of art.”
Everyone was singing Jirk’s praises.
Even experts who examined the pieces said they were authentic, so Jirk apparently made a legit living selling real stuff.
But I can’t just be happy about it.
Marie collapsed onto her knees when we got home.
“What the hell! Then why did we get duped with fakes? None of the presents you gave me sold!”
Jirk made a fortune with real items, yet everything he got ended up worthless. He probably thinks they’re valuable, but to everyone else they’re incomprehensible.
Claire looks down at Marie.
‘Is this the thing the Master mentioned? The efficiency play where the protagonist instantly sells the gift they get for cash?’
“Seeing it in real life would be cringe, but watching Marie makes you want to feel sorry for her, which is wild.”
In the game, you can sell the gifts you receive from your target for money. Back then I’d mutter, “If I saw this in real life I’d think she’s a total trash.”
But reality?
All I can feel for Marie is pity.
So pitiful it’s not funny.
Jirk, who was called in, looks troubled.
“W‑was it really authentic? I just picked what I thought people would like.”
Marie points at Jirk, crying and angry.
“If you can, actually pick something proper!”
“No, the items I gave Marie were truly hand‑picked by me. There’s no lie.”
Claire laughs.
‘It’s funny how Marie would prefer a fake. Maybe you should just ask Jirk to give you fakes as presents?’
Hearing that, Marie snaps back to life.
“That’s it! Jirk, give me the fakes you see as fakes. This time they’ll actually sell!”
Jirk, though uneasy, says he’ll do it for Marie.
“U‑uh, it’s a weird feeling, but if it makes Marie smile, it’s worth it!”
“Can’t wait! Pick something worthy of me this time.”
“Yes!”
The two stride out, full of confidence.
Me—
“Fine, it wasn’t really a scam, so I’m relieved.”
‘Right. Master, by the way, Relia wants a meeting.’
“—Denied.”
◇
A few days later.
“Jirk, you idiot!!!”
“S‑sorry!!!”
In front of a mountain of unsellable fake antiques, Marie collapses in tears.
Jirk thought if he chose fakes, they’d be real?
—How naive.
He probably let his desire to please Marie cloud his judgment, or maybe his aesthetic sense was already dull.
Honestly, everything he got was fake and unsellable.
The purchase price was—
“My secret stash!!!”
Seeing Marie on the floor, pounding the ground and sobbing, Jirk looks flustered.
Around us, Greg in a fundoshi drapes a towel over his shoulder, watching with a bored expression.
Come to think of it, are Chris and Greg even wearing fundoshi as everyday clothes?
Where the hell are you all heading?
“Tell me what to do with these unsellable presents!”
It sounds awful, but why am I feeling sorry for Marie?
Taking care of these idiots is a pain.
I’ll give them some pocket money later to cheer them up.
If it were me, I’d never want to look after these clowns.