Chapter 83: Balance Treasure Chest

The roasted chestnut stall at the corner had already packed up. The iron pan sat overturned on the charcoal stove. The air still smelled faintly of toasted chestnuts.

Galatina shifted the three brown paper packages in her arms — stacked higher than her chin — bouncing them upward to resettle them, then walked a few steps and looked sideways at him.

"Let me reimburse you for those, Uri."

Uriel walked ahead carrying two packages. Didn't look back.

"Don't need it."

"But those clothes were really expensive. Little Uri, when you paid just now, Mom saw the number."

Her tone was still soft, but the wording was slightly more stubborn than usual.

Uriel said nothing. She hugged the packages and quickened her pace, drawing level with him.

"I'll give it to you when we get back. Mom has money. Can't spend it all."

Can't spend it all.

Uriel's footsteps didn't change, but his thoughts had definitely been hooked by that phrase.

Was it really impossible to spend, or was it Mom's well-intentioned lie?

As far back as he could remember, they'd never been short on money.

Back at the old cottage, food, clothing, necessities — nothing was ever poor quality. Mom never stinted when buying books, and occasionally could even buy a few absurdly expensive otherworldly tomes he wanted.

Later, when Lumina and the other two joined them, expenses should have multiplied several times over. He'd never seen her frown about it.

Even now, with him in the Academy — tuition, living expenses, daily costs — she'd never once talked about cutting back.

But she also never mentioned where the money specifically came from, just like she never mentioned the details of solo-clearing the Demon King back in the day.

"Mom, I've always been curious about this. We've lived pretty comfortably ever since I was little. Then Lumina and the others joined us, and now I'm in school too. Food, clothes, tuition, living expenses... none of that is cheap. So where does all the money come from? Are you really that rich? Did you save all that from when you were the Hero?"

Galatina turned her head and thought for a moment. Her answer was casual, making it impossible to tell whether she was deliberately being vague or genuinely meant it.

"Mm. Sort of. A lot. Can't spend it all."

Uriel looked at her. Her expression held no evasion, no guilt — just the steady certainty of someone who'd thought it through and confirmed. Like she really couldn't spend it all.

"What's going on? I've never seen any kind of stash lying around."

Galatina's expression suddenly changed. Uriel knew this look too well. Last time was when he'd asked how Tian had flattened her chest.

Eyebrows lifting slightly. The golden glow at the bottom of her eyes brightening for an instant. There was a hint of pride in it, along with the excitement of having her little secret found out. That expression on her face made her look suddenly several years younger, like a child who'd hidden candy and got discovered by an adult.

"Little Uri has gotten very sensitive to money after starting to manage finances." She shifted the brown paper packages in her arms to one side, freeing her right hand. "Mom has storage magic."

She reached into the air. The paper bag with clothes still hung from her wrist, the string swaying against the bone. Her fingertips touched the air, sending pale golden ripples outward like disturbed water. Her hand slipped straight into them, disappearing up to the wrist.

She fumbled around inside, as if rummaging through an invisible drawer, then pulled out a small pouch and held it in front of Uriel.

Uriel took it. The bag wasn't large, the fabric coarse and thick, a leather cord tied at the opening. He hefted it in his palm. Substantial weight. Probably around fifty coins. Not a small amount.

He untied the cord with one hand, spread the opening and looked inside — gold coins. Incredible. This small pouch represented fifty thousand in purchasing power. The gold coins gleamed dully in the evening light.

He closed the opening and retied the cord.

---

Galatina was still rummaging. She fumbled inside that ring of pale golden ripples again and pulled out a kitchen knife. The handle was worn smooth and shiny. Uriel recognized this knife too — it was the one from the old house, used for smashing garlic.

She blinked, stuffed the knife back in, and kept searching.

This time she pulled out a steamed bun. Snow-white skin, pleats pinched neat and tidy, still giving off faint wisps of heat. The kind from the inn's breakfast buffet. She'd probably casually stored it away one morning.

"Does little Uri want to eat?"

"...No need."

Uriel watched the bun get shoved back into the void, took a deep breath.

"This is basically like an inventory from a game. So convenient."

He wanted to say I want to learn, but the words caught at his lips and he swallowed them back.

Last time he'd said he wanted to learn magic was during the Academy attack, and Mom never had a clear sense of what to do first — she might genuinely start teaching magic right here on the street.

"So how much total savings do you have in there?" He pushed the pouch of gold coins back into her hand.

Galatina took it, seeming to consider whether the child didn't need it or whether she should hold it for him first, then casually reached into that ring of pale golden ripples and put it away.

She lifted her head toward the sky. Her side braid slipped over her shoulder as she looked up, eyes narrowing into crescents against the sunset. She thought for quite a while, then lowered her head and held up two fingers.

"About twenty thousand a day, I think."

Uriel's eyes and mouth both went round.

Not the total. Per day.

Why was it calculated by the day?

"What? Every day? Why is it calculated by the day?"

"Because Mom obtained a chest before, called a Balance Treasure Chest." She lowered her hands and gestured a medium-sized square shape. "You put money in, and it generates a little each day. Like planting mint in the yard — water it and the next day new leaves sprout."

Uriel stopped on the stone pavement, still holding two brown paper packages.

Balance.

Treasure Chest.

A chest that generated gold coins daily.

Twenty thousand per day.

He silently ran the numbers — twenty thousand gold per day, six hundred thousand per month, seven million two hundred thousand per year.

A three-story standalone with courtyard in the capital's central district transformed in his head from need to save up for a while to could pay in full in less than a month.

His earlier self, carefully calculating to save a few dozen gold at the tailor — was like counting rice grains at the granary door. No, at least rice grains could be eaten.

"A chest that generates interest? Like a magical trust fund?"

Galatina didn't find this question strange at all and actually thought about it seriously.

"Should be? Last time there was that, a book about managing money — a Codex of Wealth, I think it was called, same kind of name." As she spoke she showed that slightly proud smile again. "Little Uri also asked me about it last time he read that book. Merchant tactics, financial management, and little Uri read some himself too."

Uriel waved his hand, not expecting Mom to actually answer that question seriously. The name didn't matter. The chest's name was the designer's problem, unless his name was Bezos.

What he really wanted to ask came next.

"That's not important. Just asking casually. How much did you deposit for it to generate twenty thousand per day?"

Galatina stated a number. When she said it, the earlier hint of pride disappeared, which only made it more shocking to Uriel.

When Uriel heard that number, the fingers holding the brown paper packages tightened slightly.

Eight million.

"Silver coins?" he asked.

"Gold."

---

The wind picked up.

Several crows called in the distance.

The leaves of the old locust tree where the crows roosted rustled loudly in the wind. A few withered leaves broke from the branches and spiraled down to land on the stone pavement.

Outside a distant tavern, a bard holding a lute was tuning his strings. The strings produced several scattered notes. He cleared his throat and began singing an old song passed down from some bygone era. The song drifted on the wind into the alley, past Uriel's ears.

"Stumbled into Heaven's gates — they urged me drop the mortal weights—"

Uriel said nothing. He stood at the busy street corner holding two brown paper packages. The money he'd earned as a rental boyfriend wasn't enough to cover half an hour of that chest's operation.

All that worrying over a few dozen gold coins. All that guilt over "wasting" money. More than ten years of carefully watching every expense.

All of it had just blown away in the wind.

The trust fund kid was me all along!