CHAPTER 48: [ STRAWBERRY POTION ]

Alexander stood behind the counter, looking at the bottle Brak had pushed forward.

"Really?" said Brak.

He then grabbed the bottle and took the cork out.

He tilted his head backward and drank some directly out of it, after one gulp he loudly put the bottle down on the counter while whistling.

"Ahh! Hits the spot," he said.

He then reached in his pockets to get a handkerchief to wipe the bottle with.

"Now, your turn," said Brak.

Alexander glanced at Fae who could barely remain upright without his help, she trusted him with all her being.

Brak was mysterious, but by drinking some of it himself it relieved a bit of the distrust.

Alexander grabbed the bottle, looking at Fae.

"Me first, then you."

She nodded.

He tilted his head backward, drinking roughly a third of it.

He then put it back on the counter, his hand still on the bottle’s neck, standing still as he analyzed the things he felt.

It was similar to the potion he dropped in the dungeon, only, this one actually had flavor.

The last one was slightly bitter, but otherwise tasteless.

This one tasted, and smelled of strawberries. It was sweet and fruity, yet not so much that it was overwhelming.

He handed the bottle to Fae, nodding.

"Seems fine," he said.

She took it, and took a sip. She was about to put it back, but Alexander gestured her to keep going.

She did, not a single drop remaining when she finally pushed the bottle back on the counter.

Brak smiled, grabbing it and tossing it under the counter.

"Now we can do business," he said.

The man grabbed a very thin wand that looked a lot more like a branch of wood and waved it around a few times.

Everything Alexander laid on the counter slowly started floating, levitating behind Brak’s back as he walked around the counter.

"Follow me!" he said brightly.

Alexander followed him toward the back of the shop, walking in-between narrow racks filled with random items into a small opening somehow free of clutter.

It was very small, two couches facing each other with a small table in the middle. The whole area was circled by stands, tables and even shelves suspended from the ceiling.

It felt as if they had discovered a peaceful clearing in the middle of a jungle, the couches were clean and the table was completely empty.

Brak sat on one side, waving the wand a few more times around.

Everything that floated slowly fell onto the table as if it was moving in slow motion.

He gestured them to sit on the couch, both of them enjoying the short rest.

Brak had both arms running along his couch’s backrest, taking the whole space for himself. He truly looked comfortable, while Alexander was still holding onto Fae..

"So this is your first time selling anything huh?" asked Brak.

"Yes."

Brak nodded a few times, with a clear ’hm-hm’ sound coming out of his throat.

"I can see why you’re so distrustful," said Brak.

Alexander frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Give me some credit!" said Brak, feigning being offended. "I don’t look like it, but I can be smart when I feel like it..."

He then waved his finger around the table.

"All of this is too much. First, you have way too many dungeon cores. This amount looks like a full dungeon’s worth. Second, some of these items are clearly high tier, this staff looks C-tier, the robe looks like it could maybe be B-tier. Hell, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say it belonged to an undead."

Alexander nodded. "A lich."

"A lich. And then, when we look at the other items you’ve brought, one can easily see that you’ve gone through this dungeon alone. Guilds typically pool everything and sell every so often what they don’t need. They wouldn’t send a newbie like you in a shop like mine. This means you’ve gone through a dungeon alone, am I wrong?"

Alexander nodded his head, impressed by Brak’s logic.

"Well, on top of that, there’s also the fact that you didn’t know we traded using cores as currency. It screams newbie. There’s a lot of newbies who go through their first dungeons alone, typically people with protagonist-syndrome who need a soft reality check to realize they can’t get through this line of work alone. They go through a couple dungeons then finally give up and join a guild."

"You believe I’m one of those? A delusional dungeon runner?"

"No, because if you were, you wouldn’t be bringing me this stuff," said Brak.

His smile widened.

"See, even if you were going through dungeons alone, the Adventurer’s Guild would give you the easiest dungeons to clear. The bottom E-tier dungeons that anyone can clear given enough time. You’re bringing me what can be, at most, B-tier items."

Alexander scoffed, a smile drawing itself on his own face.

"You are indeed smart," said Alexander.

"Don’t flatter me!" said Brak, waving his hand while pretending to blush.

Brak’s good mood seemed to be impossible to change, a feature Alexander didn’t dislike.

"See, I know why they did it. It’s obvious. You’re a cultist, one of the worst probably..." he said.

Alexander frowned at the mention of cultist, his fist tightening.

"Are you going to fight me? You’ll be doing a lot of fighting if you can’t stand hearing people calling you a cultist. Not a pleasant name, sure, but it is what defines you best... If I were you, I would proudly wear that title."

Brak waved his wand around, Alexander could hear some muttered sounds coming from even further into the shop.

Slowly, glasses and a jug of water floated above everything while making its way to the table.

"Somehow they couldn’t stop you from becoming a cultist, and now that you’re one, they’re trying to have you die a noble death in an ’honest mistake’. There’s no way they would mistakenly give a B-tier dungeon to an E-tier fresh runner. Although, you were lucky it was closer to C-tier than B-tier, I doubt you both would’ve come out alive."

The glasses arrived, the jug pouring water in each glass before resting on the table itself.

Brak’s smile widened again, as he pulled out two parchments. Alexander couldn’t even see where he pulled them out of.

He put them on the table facing Alexander and himself, creating a small gust of wind with his movement.

"Time to sign a contract," he said.