Player Chapter 29. Freeloader
The wind moved gently through the valley.
He let out a breath through his nose.
"…Most of them were the same."
Faces flickered in his mind.
Girls who smiled sweetly.
Girls who looked impressed.
Girls who leaned closer.
And then…
The truth.
The Goldborne name.
The sponsorship.
The fame.
The convenience.
The status.
It was hard to tell who saw him.
And who saw the brand.
He clenched his jaw lightly.
"Pets are easier."
The dragon huffed.
"Don't take it personally. It's a compliment." He crouched slightly and looked into the dragon's eyes. "Dogs are loyal. Simple. Honest."
A pause.
"Cats though… cats will kill you in your sleep if you don't fill their food bowl."
The dragon gave him the most judgmental stare possible.
"Okay, fine. You're not a dog."
The dragon lifted its head proudly.
"More like… a flying emo horse."
It growled.
He grinned.
"Yeah, yeah."
He stood up fully.
"Take a rest for today."
The dragon settled down slowly, wings folding tighter. Obedient. Watching him.
He turned toward the direction of the Golden Flowers.
[Golden Flowers: 10 meters forward.]
"Finally."
He walked.
Slow steps at first. Then steadier.
The valley had quieted. The dragon's presence probably scared off anything stupid enough to wander nearby.
The Golden Flowers shimmered faintly. Tall stalks. Petals bright like liquid gold against the deepening dusk.
He knelt.
Careful hands.
One.
Two.
Three.
He cut them cleanly with a mana-formed dagger.
[You obtained Golden Flower X10]
That was all the flowers he could get.
He straightened slowly.
The sky was almost black now.
He glanced back at the dragon.
"You'll stay?"
The dragon lowered its head.
He took out the Save Point Crystal.
The faint glow pulsed in his hand.
He looked at the dragon one last time.
"Don't die while I'm gone."
The dragon snorted.
He smirked and crushed the crystal.
Light exploded around him.
The valley dissolved.
Darkness folded into white.
And then…
Dawn Haven.
The familiar scent of stone, wood, and distant cooking smoke.
The town lights flickered gently under night sky.
He exhaled.
"Home base."
[Location: Dawn Haven]
He looked down at himself.
Covered in blood.
Not his.
Again.
He clicked his tongue.
"I need new clothes."
[You also need a bath.]
"Clearly."
He walked to the temple, adjusted his coat, golden flowers secured in his inventory, dragon bound in shadow realm, potions restocked, Rank E achieved.
And blood still drying on his sleeves.
"…Now the last thing I need is milk," he muttered to himself while walking through the temple courtyard like he hadn't just soloed a Legendary dragon two mintues ago.
The night air was cool. Lamps flickered along stone paths. A few acolytes glanced at him and then quickly looked away.
"Tch! I'm a good guy, you know." Yeah, Villain aura. Still active.
He didn't go to the dining hall.
He went straight to the kitchen.
The temple kitchen was still warm from dinner service. Steam lingered in the air. The scent of roasted herbs and bread clung to the walls. Pots clanged softly as someone cleaned.
The head cook, a burly man with a permanently unimpressed expression, turned his head the moment Riven stepped inside.
"What do you want, freeloader?"
Riven stopped mid-step.
Freeloader.
He blinked once.
Then smiled.
Ah.
Okay.
So we're doing this.
"I need milk," Riven said casually, ignoring the insult for now. "Fresh one. Full cream."
The cook snorted. "Milk isn't free."
"I didn't say free."
"You live here. Eat here. Use the beds here. For Free."
"I saved your caravans."
The cook shrugged. "Not my caravans."
Riven stared at him.
This man had guts.
He liked that.
"Fine," Riven said, reaching into his pouch. "I'll pay."
He placed a few coins on the table.
The cook didn't even glance at them.
"Temple supplies are accounted for. Can't just hand it out because you feel like drinking."
Riven's smile thinned. "Drinking?" he repeated. "You think I'm here for a midnight milk craving?"
The cook wiped his hands on a cloth. "Not my business."
Silence.
The kitchen fire crackled softly.
Riven leaned slightly against the counter, posture relaxed.
But his eyes sharpened.
He studied the cook.
The micro-expressions.
The tension in the jaw.
The slight flicker of attention when he mentioned fresh milk.
Pride.
Possessiveness.
And beneath it…
Curiosity.
"Alright," Riven said lightly. "Then maybe you're not interested."
"In what?"
He smirked. "Amber Veil Leaves."
The cook's hand stopped mid-wipe.
Just for half a second.
Then continued.
"Never heard of it."
Riven almost laughed.
'Oh, you liar.'
He saw it.
The glint.
The small tightening around the eyes.
Interest.
He read the leaf's description when he took it.
Amber Veil Leaves were rare. Hard to cultivate. Even harder to harvest fresh.
He had picked more than enough.
"Shame," Riven continued smoothly. "I was thinking of trading."
The cook kept his face neutral. Impressive discipline. "For what?"
"Milk."
"How much milk?"
Riven tilted his head slightly. "How much can you spare?"
The cook narrowed his eyes.
"You're not getting the morning stock."
"I don't need the morning stock."
"Temple has limits."
"And I have Amber Veil Leaves."
The cook's gaze sharpened.
Riven reached into his inventory and casually produced a small wrapped bundle. He opened it just enough for the scent to escape.
Warm. Sweet. Subtle citrus undertone.
The cook inhaled before he could stop himself.
'Got you.'
Riven almost grinned wider.
He closed the wrap.
"Limited supply," he said mildly. "Hard to get. Especially fresh."
The cook folded his arms. "How many leaves?"
"Enough."
"Enough isn't a number."
"Enough to elevate your kitchen reputation."
The cook's eyebrow twitched.
Riven leaned in slightly. "You called me a freeloader."
The cook didn't respond.
"So now I'm negotiating like a freeloader."
The tension in the air thickened.
Riven tapped the bundle lightly against the counter. "I want milk. Fresh. As much as you can reasonably give without getting yourself executed."
The cook snorted. "You're arrogant."
"You're stubborn."
Silence.
Then the cook sighed.
"…Half a crate."
Riven didn't blink. "That's cute."
The cook's jaw tightened. "Three-quarters."
Riven tilted his head. "Full crate."
"Impossible."
"Amber Veil Leaves don't grow in your backyard."
The cook hesitated.
Riven watched him carefully.
He could see the calculation happening.
Reputation.
New flavor profiles.
Exclusive menu addition.
Temple status.
Versus…
Milk.
Milk replenishes daily.
Leaves?
Rare.
Very rare.
Riven leaned back casually. "I'll even tell you how to properly infuse it without burning the aroma." Oh yeah, he learned this from watching his sister.
The cook's eyes flickered again.
Ah.
There it is.
Curiosity.
The cook exhaled heavily. "One full crate. And you teach me."
Riven extended his hand immediately. "Deal."
The cook grabbed it.
Firm grip.
Respect.
Not friendliness.
But respect.
Good enough.
Moments later, Riven walked out of the kitchen carrying a full crate of fresh milk like a victorious merchant prince, before tossing it into his inventory.