Chapter 58

First person POV

'They are still following us....' I conveyed to Marika through telepathy.

After our departure, a few inexperienced guards attempted to tail us. Their surveillance was easily detected, but their presence was inconsequential to our activities, and I chose to ignore them.

'Dearest, how about we visit the market, or even the black market, to acquire some items?' Ranni suggested.

'Not a bad idea. There might be more interesting items than in any other region,' I thought. According to August, there existed a black market where merchants dealt in unique and exotic valuables. Hoping to find something of value, and with no other immediate plans, I steered towards the black market.

'I won't be buying anything for you, Lilith. You deserve a punishment,' I declared just before entering the black market.

'Boo, husband. You are so spiteful. However, I doubt if there is something I might find of value,' Lilith responded with a touch of drama.

Over the next few hours, we traversed the market, procuring goods for alchemy, crafting, or simply for decoration. Miranda prioritized her own acquisitions, followed by Ranni and Marika. Despite Lilith's attempt at flattery, I spent nearly 60% of the money I received from Zeref.

'You are such a great negotiator, Hubby. I didn't know?' Lilith complimented me, hoping to lighten the mood and perhaps escape her impending punishment. However, sweet words alone were not enough to sway me.

'I also acknowledge that. Dearest,' Ranni softly admitted, recognizing the value of my negotiation skills in securing reasonable prices.

Having completed our shopping, I spent the rest of the day observing the capital city of the Alvarez Empire. I successfully evaded any potential trackers, spies, or followers that might have been trailing us. The scent of a good wine led me to a cozy establishment at the city center.

The place appeared empty, with only a few staff members and a lone customer immersed in his drinks. Ignoring the solitary patron, I sat at the bar and looked at the bartender.

"Yes, Sir, what can I get for you?" he inquired while continuing to display his impressive cocktail-mixing skills. "Impressive skill you got there… as for what I would do… that," I commented, pointing to the specific drink that caught my interest.

"This... You have quite a taste, Sir. This is the most expensive drink here, my late father's masterpiece," he shared, pouring the drink and providing a brief background.

"So, how much for the entire thing? Let's say 10-15 bottles?" I asked in a serious voice, he served me the drink with ice. As I take it's scent I could tell it's worth it.

The small, dimly lit room bore witness to a tense exchange between the man and the stranger. Fatigue etched lines on the man's face, revealing the weight of past struggles. As he spoke, his voice carried a sincerity that betrayed no falsehood.

"That much... I apologize, but I don't have that much stock here," he admitted with a heavy sigh. I sensed the honesty in his words; there was no deception, only guilt.

"And as for all these, it's free, consider it my last gift." He said while he presented 5-6 bottles of wine which I asked him.

Intrigued, I couldn't help but question the motives behind such a generous offer. "Why is that? These taste absolutely fantastic. You can make a fortune selling these."

I met the inquisitive gaze which was a little with a mix of gratitude and sorrow. "If there is an issue, feel free to share. Who knows, I might be able to help somehow?" I genuine curiosity prompted the bartender to caution me, "Good sir, please stay out of it. You don't want to be in my mess."

Undeterred, by his claims I quickly formulated and proposed a deal. "How about this? If I can provide a solution for you, you'll hand over all your drink recipes. These drinks are world-class; it would be a waste if they were to disappear one day." I was totally into the drink. Moreover, if I have to do a little hassle for it, it's worth it.

A moment of hesitation filled the room as the old man contemplated my proposition, stealing glances at his skeptical and defensive teenage girl who was cleaning cups. "Are you sure? I am afraid you might get hurt," he warned.

"It's worth a shot. Moreover, I have nothing much to do here," I responded, determined in my tone. I'm really down bad for it.

"Dad, there is no need to ask a stranger for help. The chief of the guard will execute him. You forgot what he did to us," the girl interjected, her bitterness palpable as she stopped doing dishes.

"The deal is finalized, no turning back now," I asserted, my resolve unwavering.

"You will just die. Do you think your life is as cheap as this drink!" She spat, her frustration evident in her tone.

"I'd say my life is more precious than your attempts at insults. Comparing it to a drink is generous – at least a drink serves a purpose. What's your excuse for existing, again?" Without holding back I attempted to diffuse the escalating tension.

"You!" Asif, the daughter, moved to confront me.

"Asif! Stop, go to your room!" the man commanded, a mix of frustration and concern in his voice.

"Forgive my daughter; she has seen the worst. Hope you understand. And as for the deal, if you can really help, I will tell you everything I know." The man's plea carried a blend of weariness and hope.