Chapter 16: perfect balance

By the time the village elder of Aoruiden led Lane out of the pub, the rain had ceased, although heavy dark clouds still loomed overhead.

Old Allen, leading the way, looked as though he had lost his wife at the gambling table.

Yet when he turned to face Lane, his demeanor shifted to one of keen attention and eagerness.

It was a curious contradiction.

He appeared to have obtained a prized possession, one that he was reluctant to relinquish.

The village was small, and it didn't take long to arrive at the elder's home.

The house was slightly better than the average dwelling in the village.

The wooden posts forming its foundation stood taller, lifting it above the damp ground, and the walls of the wooden structure appeared sturdier than those of neighboring homes.

This was the village elder's abode.

However, Lane didn't harbor high expectations.

"This is my home. There's room for an extra bed, so you can rest here in the future," Old Allen said, opening the door and ushering Lane inside.

What Lane found within was unexpected.

The house consisted of two connected rooms: a living area that served as a bedroom, and a kitchen that also functioned as a storage space.

The so-called bed was merely a heap of hay mixed with rags and cotton, covered by a tattered cloth that was barely intact.

This was already the bed used by the elder and his wife, so the one Lane might use would hardly be an improvement.

Had Lane, fresh to Willun, arrived not long ago, he might have struggled to imagine resting on such a "bed."

Yet now, surveying the space with his keen eyes, the young man nodded in approval.

It was simple, but at least it was clean.

A fresh, colorful wreath adorned the wooden wall, a symbol of the goddess Meretrix, indicating that the hostess was both diligent and attentive.

What more could one ask for in Wilun?

Earlier in the tavern, Lane had struck a deal with Elder Allen, who represented the village.

In the name of the so-called "sacred tradition of demon hunters," the Bear School would provide compensation.

Lane, patting his worn cotton armor, which was so ragged it seemed ready to fall apart, dismissed thoughts of monetary compensation. After all, these days everyone lived hand-to-mouth.

But a demon hunter was always ready to work hard.

Orieden was a fishing village, and the entire village's livelihood relied primarily on the adjacent lake.

The aristocrats merely used this place to host horse-drawn carriage races; it was nearly impossible for the villagers to take advantage of this to sell goods or seek financial aid.

To feed their families, they had to toil relentlessly.

However, the harsh ecological conditions of Velen meant that while the lake held bountiful catches, it also harbored man-eating water ghosts and swamp witches.

These monsters severely restricted the fishing areas and hours for the villagers.

For instance, fishing at night was akin to serving dinner to the monsters, further limiting the village's income.

Yet, there had been no fatalities, and the villagers managed to scrape by with the current fishing grounds, so hiring a demon hunter to deal with the monsters seemed unnecessary.

But Lane's arrival could change the status quo.

In the tavern not long ago, his glowing cat-like eyes locked onto Old Allen's.

"You're one of the few knowledgeable people in this village," Lane began, offering a compliment before continuing.

"According to market prices, the right ear of a water ghost can be exchanged for three Orlen, and the head of a swamp witch for five. Do you agree?"

Old Allen, with a cigarette holder clenched in his mouth, suddenly became shrewd, instinctively trying to haggle down the price.

Nobles cared about prestige, the church valued piety, and everyone concerned themselves with money. This saying rang true.

Bargaining had become second nature when discussing finances.

But as Old Allen glanced again at Lane's glowing cat-like eyes, the certainty and calm within them deterred him from attempting any tricks.

So he could only nod, somewhat dazed.

"You're right, Master. But what does this have to do with your 'compensation'..."

"Of course it's related!" Lane interrupted, his tone brisk.

"The compensation the Grand Master has sent me to provide is [discounted hunting]."

"During this period, you will handle my food and lodging logistics, and I will charge only one-third of the market price for my hunting results."

"The water ghost will be one aurum, and the swamp witch one and a half. Think about it, Elder—one-third of the cost."

Lane's voice, calm to the point of chilling, somehow felt enticing to Old Allen.

He hadn't even invoked any magic, merely wielding his words.

"In less than two months, your village's fishing grounds will double in size. If you're fortunate, you might uncover a few water ghost nests and eradicate them. The expanded fishing grounds could last three to four years. Just imagine how much that's worth!"

"Gulubing..."

Not only Old Allen but every fisherman in the tavern felt their hearts race.

The prospect of doubling the fishing grounds was irresistible, and their eyes glimmered with greed.

"And all of this hinges on fulfilling the conditions for 'compensation.'"

"What conditions?!"

"As long as the price for killing monsters remains unchanged, we can negotiate!"

Without waiting for the elder to respond, those nearby eagerly inquired.

Lane turned to them, and even under the faint glow of his amber cat-like eyes, the crowd felt exhilarated.

"My one-third share of the hunting reward must be paid in full, without delay or a single coin missing. Additionally, your village must ensure the livelihood of the two bereaved families."

He gestured casually.

"After all, the so-called 'compensation' largely pertains to the two victim families; your village is merely incidental."

This simple request posed no real problem.

In other words, Lane's demand for immediate payment added some strain to the village's already tight finances.

This was why Old Allen wore a long face when the young man wasn't looking.

Yet under Old Allen's authority, it wouldn't be an issue for each household to scrape together a little. After all, the expansion of the fishing grounds would benefit the entire village.

An agreement was reached without difficulty, and Old Allen even expressed his gratitude and respect for the demon hunter's generous offer by inviting his usual hunting partner, whom he referred to as "the mutant," to share his home.

This would serve as Lane's residence and dining hall for the foreseeable future.

Old Allen stepped out to gather hay for the bed while his wife was said to be nearby, picking raspberries and berries to supplement their food supply.

Now alone in the clean hut with Muntaz, Lane reflected on the events.

A neutral, intelligent voice echoed in his mind.

"I have to admit, sir, first-class businessmen create demand."

"Safe practice targets, a steady supply of food and shelter, and a source of income. Whether your plan is rooted in morality or utilitarianism, in terms of results, you've crafted a more comprehensive strategy than the one I proposed."

"Perhaps," the young man replied with a modest smile.

But deep down, he wrestled with a disquieting thought—

I'm amazing!