"Oh my, you don't have to get angry," Mei Mei replied casually as she walked closer. She gently set the suitcase down on the ground, producing a dense, weighty thud. "So, you really don't want to marry me?"
"We'll see about that someday," I answered calmly. "For now, tell me the result."
"Alright, alright!" Mei Mei let out a soft sigh, pouting briefly before adjusting her expression. Her gaze shifted, turning sharper and more professional. "We got ninety million."
Ninety million?
The number lingered in the air for a moment, heavy and tangible.
It was a large sum. Extremely large. Yet instead of feeling shock, my mind immediately began calculating the possibilities. Was it sold through an open auction? If so, what percentage had the organizers taken as commission? Was that a gross figure, or had it already been reduced after administrative fees and distribution costs? Who was the buyer? Someone from the official sorcerer circles—or a shadowy collector operating behind the scenes?
I looked at Mei Mei, trying to read the subtle details on her face—the blink of her eyes, the faint twitch at the corner of her lips, the slight tension in her shoulders that might hint at something she wasn't saying.
"You're not surprised?" Mei Mei asked, her brows lifting slightly, clearly puzzled as though my reaction had fallen outside her expectations.
Should I be surprised?
In a dangerous world like this, human currency was never truly equal to a magical item—or a Cursed Tool capable of saving a life.
The value of money could rise and fall without warning. It could vanish because of one foolish investment or be drained in a single failed transaction. One misstep, one reckless decision, and the numbers in a bank account would become nothing more than a bitter memory.
But a Cursed Tool with healing properties? That wasn't merely an expensive item. It was a guarantee of survival. Something even powerful fighters would protect with their own blood and bones.
In battle against a Cursed Spirit or a Curse User, a single second of delay could mean death. An item capable of restoring wounds—even slightly—held a value that couldn't be measured in sheets of yen.
So yes, the amount was large… but not enough to truly shake me.
Still, perhaps a little acting was necessary.
"What?! Really?" I exclaimed, deliberately widening my eyes and raising my voice. I even stepped back half a pace, as though the number had genuinely thrown me off balance. I did my best to look convincingly shocked.
Mei Mei stared at me for several long seconds without blinking. Her gaze sharpened, like a thin blade slowly peeling away my mask layer by layer. Her expression gradually flattened, the corners of her lips lowering faintly.
"…You know," Mei Mei said quietly, clearly displeased, "if you weren't surprised at first, there's no need to pretend like that. You just end up looking creepy."
Ah. Caught.
"Is that so?" I shrugged lightly, my face returning to calm as though nothing had happened. My tone steadied, any trace of pretense gone.
"You really are…" Mei Mei let out a long sigh. It sounded heavy, like someone who had just realized that having a serious conversation with me was a draining task. Without adding another comment, she extended the suitcase in her right hand toward me.
The suitcase felt solid when I took it. Its weight was undeniable, pressing firmly against my palm. It was different from the weight of weapons or metal—this wasn't steel or iron. It was the weight of numbers, of opportunities, of futures. A weight that could change the course of someone's life… or ruin it.
I lifted the lid slightly.
Stacks of cash were neatly arranged inside, bound with official paper bands. The distinct scent of fresh paper and faint ink drifted upward. Bill after bill was aligned with precise order, as though they themselves were aware of the value they represented.
"So after the auction house took its ten percent," I said while calculating quickly in my head, my thoughts moving faster than my lips, "that leaves eighty-one million yen."
I glanced at Mei Mei, making sure she was following my calculations.
"In that case, after you take your thirty percent share—twenty-four million three hundred thousand yen—I'll be left with around fifty-six million seven hundred thousand yen. Not bad." My tone remained flat, as if those numbers were nothing more than an ordinary harvest, not an amount large enough to purchase several small properties.
Mei Mei gave a faint smile. A professional smile. The kind of smile worn by someone accustomed to watching vast sums of money change hands without the slightest emotional stir.
"Then sell this as well." After saying that, I handed her a cylindrical metal bottle.
Its surface was cold and solid, colored in an unassuming dark gray. Around its middle ran a finely engraved line—a pattern of concentric circles so subtle it would go unnoticed unless examined carefully. That was where the cursed mechanism lay hidden, seamlessly integrated into the metal structure. To an ordinary person, it would look like nothing more than a standard metal thermos purchased from an outdoor equipment store.
"What is this?" Mei Mei stared at the bottle with visible confusion. She slowly rotated it in her hand, gauging its weight and balance. She even tapped its side lightly with her fingernail, listening to the faint resonance it produced.
"Isn't it obvious? A Cursed Tool. What else?" I replied casually.
"Is that so? Then what exactly does this thermos do?" she asked again, her voice now more serious. Her gaze shifted—no longer merely curious, but analytical. It was clear she was attempting to sense the flow of Cursed Energy concealed within.
"The name of this Cursed Tool is Positive Energy Bottle," I explained slowly, making sure every detail was conveyed clearly. "All you need to do is channel your Cursed Energy into the metal bottle. The conversion mechanism inside will transform your Cursed Energy into Positive Energy—in liquid form."
I pointed at the delicate engraving in the center, the concentric pattern that appeared decorative at first glance, though in truth the core of the mechanism pulsed faintly within, bound tightly by structured Cursed Energy.
"That liquid can be drunk or poured directly onto a wound," I continued calmly. "Its effect drastically accelerates the healing process. Stab wounds, slashes, burns, blunt-force injuries, cracked bones, even sprained joints—as long as the affected limb is returned to its original position and then treated with this healing water, the tissues will reconnect within seconds."
I was not exaggerating.
Flesh torn apart would draw together as if pulled by invisible threads. Fractured bones would realign and fuse with a faint, nearly inaudible click. Muscles and nerves would reconnect, leaving behind a brief wave of heat before the pain faded away. The process did not merely close wounds—it forced the body to remember its perfect form and return to it.
Mei Mei fell silent.
Her gaze changed again. No longer simply curious—now wary.
"This bottle cannot regenerate entirely new limbs," I added slowly, making sure there was no misunderstanding. "However, if a severed limb is still intact and immediately reattached to its proper place, then either by pouring the liquid over it or having the victim drink it, that limb can reconnect. As long as it isn't a total incineration that destroys the tissue beyond recovery, or an injury that causes instant death, this liquid will significantly accelerate the body's regeneration."
I gave a slight shrug. "In short, it's magic water."
Yet even I knew that description was far too simple to capture its true value.
Mei Mei did not respond immediately. She stared at the bottle as though she were holding something far more valuable than the suitcase of cash in my possession. Her slender fingers moved slowly along the metal surface, feeling the subtle vibration of energy humming faintly within.
Gradually, she lifted her gaze toward me.
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