NOVGO.NET Chapter 19: Tears In Gold
Chapter 19: Tears In Gold
Three courier letters sat on the laminate kitchen table, each stamped with an embossed wax seal.
The first letter came from the Stormcrest Guild, offering a five-million-credit signing bonus with an eight-year exclusive servitude clause.
The fine print demanded forty percent of dungeon prizes, mandatory public appearances, and every right to monster salvage.
The Association’s PR department offered a salary in exchange for becoming their delayed awakening poster boy.
The third invitation came from a District Nine mercenary syndicate, recruiting expendable muscle for red-zone operations.
Fin pushed the letters aside, sipping his morning coffee while looking at his rent ledger.
"Five million credits sounds nice on paper," he muttered to himself with a dry chuckle. "Until you read the small print... giving up your freedom and your dinner."
A loud knock on the door broke his concentration, followed by boisterous laughter in the hallway.
Bram, Jax, and Corin waited on the landing when he opened the door. Between them, they carried a case of beer and three boxes of fried chicken.
"There he is!" Bram bellowed, grabbing him in a tight bear hug that lifted him off his socks. "The luckiest pack mule in the history of District Four!"
"Put me down, Bram," he laughed, patting the warrior’s armored shoulder. "What is all this celebrating about?"
"Our raid dividend cleared this morning!" Jax shouted, waving a yellow bank receipt with trembling excitement. "The freezing-works salvage settlement finally cleared... our party share was forty-five thousand credits each!"
"Forty-five thousand," Corin murmured in disbelief, holding a beer bottle against his cheek. "I can finally replace my staff and buy three months of mana potions."
They piled into the small apartment, setting the beer case and fried chicken on the kitchen counter.
"We know who really carried those crates, kid," Bram said, his tone turning surprisingly earnest as he popped a bottle cap with his thumb. "Those four corporate porters told the guild tavern what happened in the roundhouse... you stood your ground when the corporate cowards ran."
"The scaffolding collapsed," he replied with his usual deadpan shrug, clinking his bottle against Bram’s glass.
"Sure it did," Bram grinned with his chipped tooth, winking broadly. "And my grandma is an S-rank duelist... drink up, hero."
They spent two hours drinking beer, eating crunchy fried chicken, and laughing over past dungeon blunders.
Corin described the corporate quotas, explaining how often sponsored rookies died while trying to meet them.
The Iron Dogs headed downstairs to celebrate at the local tavern. Fin walked to the Municipal Hunter Bureau in District Three after they left.
He sat in the registration office opposite a licensing officer wearing thick spectacles.
"You have three top-tier recruitment offers pending, young man," the officer said, tapping the computer screen. "The Stormcrest contract would set you up for life."
"I decline all exclusive sponsorships," he stated firmly, sliding his silver identification card across the desk. "Register me as a Grade-E+ Certified Free Agent."
"Free agents receive zero guild stipends, zero insurance coverage, and zero legal defense in dungeon disputes," the officer warned, raising an eyebrow.
"Free agents also retain one hundred percent of their battlefield salvage and corpse access," he countered with a calm smile. "Stamp the card, please."
The officer sighed, pressing the brass seal onto the digital card: [ Status: independent free agent - grade E+ ].
[ EXP: 14,000 / 50,500 ]
Free-agent certification added a registration bonus to the balance in his ledger. He checked the receipt, satisfied that independence still paid something today.
He walked over to the municipal bank window, cashing his forty-five-thousand-credit dividend check into a thick stack of banknotes.
He deposited twenty thousand credits into a locked savings account registered under Jolly’s name for her future high school and college tuition.
He deposited ten thousand more into his own account, retaining fifteen thousand for rent and the laptop.
He slapped twelve thousand credits in cash onto the desk, leaning forward with a calm stare.
"Six months of rent paid in advance," he said, watching the landlord’s jaw drop in shock. "Give me the receipt."
The landlord, who threatened them with eviction every single month for three years, scribbled the paid-in-full receipt with trembling hands.
Next, he stopped at the electronics department store on the central boulevard.
He bought the student laptop Jolly admired in the catalog, paying its discounted price of three thousand credits.
The clerk packed the included mouse, carrying case, and headphones beside the discounted laptop.
He carried the boxed computer and a bag of fresh takeout dumplings back to the apartment.
As he turned onto his residential block, a figure in a gray trench coat stepped out from behind a utility pole.
It was the Stormcrest talent scout who observed him at the freezing works.
"Turning down five million credits is foolish, kid," the scout said in a low, gravelly voice. "Unsponsored freelancing gets people buried in deep gates."
He stopped beside the counter, meeting the scout’s gaze without flinching.
"Hunters who sign your contracts get buried in shallow ones," he replied smoothly, stepping past the scout without breaking stride. "Tell your guild master to save his money."
The scout watched him walk up the apartment steps, narrowing his eyes in silence before vanishing into the shadows.
He pushed open the apartment door, setting the new laptop on Jolly’s desk with a proud grin.
Jolly walked into the room, freezing as she saw the sealed box with the silver manufacturer logo.
"Fin..." She whispered, touching the sleek packaging with gentle fingers. "Is this for me?"
"Happy early birthday, kiddo," he smiled, setting the warm dumplings beside her notebook. "Your explanation down payment just arrived."
Jolly threw her arms around his waist, burying her face in his jacket with a rare, joyful laugh.
They spent the evening setting up her user profile, installing her graphing software, and downloading her geometry textbooks.
Jolly set a photograph of the two of them at the district botanical gardens as her desktop background.
She tested the keyboard with rapid fingers, writing a small mock invoice titled "Fin’s Explanation Payment Schedule."
"Keep the receipt somewhere the tea cannot reach," he told Jolly.
"Already scanned it. Where is your copy?"
He stopped beside the kettle, looking back at the empty packaging.
"In the box."
"That is where people put things before they throw them away."
She handed him the receipt, waiting until he tucked it into his notebook.
"Warranty first," she said. "Then you can pretend this was an organized purchase."
He laughed, boiling a pot of jasmine tea while she arranged her new study desk with her colored pens.
He laid his hatchet and daggers on the bedside stand, checking the edges under the lamp.
He checked his supplies in his inventory pocket, ensuring his potion vials and bandages were packed in order.
He placed two spare nutrient bars into his coat pocket for emergency calories during tomorrow’s raid.
He set a bottle of mineral water and two clean hand wraps next to his sneakers by the front entrance.
Later that night, Ruby’s text flashed across his flip phone screen: "Submerged Foundry gate opens tomorrow at dawn... five-man veteran squad needs rear-guard muscle... triple pay."
He replied with a thumbs-up emoji, setting his alarm for five in the morning before closing his eyes.
He drifted to sleep with the rent cleared and Jolly’s laptop charging nearby.
The city outside hummed with midnight sirens, but inside apartment 4B, everything was warm, peaceful, and secure.