At night, before I went to sleep, I opehe archive a Mahya a message.

  Tr. JR

  "Clueless, Versailles, Prince"

  Fet buying all kinds of things to sell. Buy more s from eBay. Many, many more s from eBay. I’ve already used two hundred kilograms.

  The day, Rue and I went to visit the Are Bazaar. It was at the north end of the city, quite far from the hotel, but after a huge breakfast of cheese aable pastry for me and eggs with sausage and cheese for him, we both wao walk. We strolled, admiring the spires. I did some window shopping, and Rue led us to three squares that, in his opinion, sold exg food.

  The first square sold all kinds of cheeses, some simir to those oh, but not all. Some were so stinky I had to hold my breath at the stand, while Rue, of course, thought the sti ones were the most iing.

  “e on, buddy, I’m going to suffocate here in a sed. Let’s tinue,” I urged, trying to steer him away. I talked telepathically to save my breath.

  “Yummy cheese! Rue want yummy cheese!” he insisted and gave me a pleading look.

  “It stinks to high heaven. I won’t put it in my Ste. I’ll never get rid of the smell.”

  “No e. Rue eat now,” he replied eagerly.

  I wao sigh, but I was afraid that if I did, I’d choke on the smell. Relutly, I bought him the sti cheese they had, and after he swallowed it in three chews, I informed him, “You’re not lig me for a week.”

  He looked at me with narrowed eyes, clearly displeased.

  “I’m not kidding. You and your mouth, whiow stinks of that awful cheese, are not ing near me for the week.”

  He shrugged a walking.

  Treacherous dog.

  At least in the square he led us to, they sold various smoked things—mostly poultry and beef. Rue had a crisis because they didn’t sell smoked crabs. Fortunately, his crisis helped us leave the square quickly. Otherwise, we would have been stuck there for hours—I knew him too well.

  The third square sold ready-made pastries and all kinds of things for baking. After buying Rue two cheese pastries to stop his nagging, I checked out their sele of baking spices. There were some fasating items. One spice, in powder form, tasted like rose water. It was the only thing that was even partially simir to what I knew from Earth. Everything else was a mix of tastes and smells so different from anything I reized—I didn’t even have words to describe them. They were like nothing I’d ever entered. I bought a rge jar of each spice, seriously disappoihe spice seller, who tried to vince me to sell him jars like mine, and tinued our walk.

  After almost four hours, we reached the area of the Are Bazaar, but we ran into a problem—there was no bazaar.

  A sprawling, open exparetched before us, its emptiness strangely uling. We’d reached the Are Bazaar—or at least, where it should have been. But instead of the vibrant chaos I’d imagined, only bare cobblestones y underfoot, stark and silent. The pce was vast, like five or even seven stadiums. Someone had divided the area into numbered lots, with numbers in red paint.

  Frowning, I open my Map, expeg some clue, some redire. But no, this was it—the one and only Are Bazaar. Just... not.

  At the far end of the space, a siable caught my eye, lonely and out of p the empty pza. A figure sat beside it, head tilted as if waiting, or maybe just bored. Without another option, I headed over, my steps eg in the eerie silence.

  As I approached the table, it became clear that the man represehe . The two guards behind him with ons were a big clue. Uhe other representative I had seen, this one was so thin that I wao offer him something to eat. He was all skin and bones, with taut skin stretched across his fad dark circles under his eyes. I shuddered at the sight—he looked like what an evil neancer should look like in a fantasy book. But... he was the only person here, so I had no choice.

  “Hello, sir,” I said with a smile.

  “What do you want?” he snapped in an unfriendly, almost hostile voice.

  “I’m looking for the bazaar that was here. Could you please tell me where it went?” I asked, still trying to keep a friendly tone.

  “What do you care?” he shot back, sounding even more belligerent.

  Huh?!

  “Because I want to visit there...” My voice trailed off.

  “What are you looking for there?” he demanded, his tone growing sharper.

  What’s his problem? Is he so hungry he’s mad at the world?

  “I want to visit the bazaar,” I repeated, my patience wearing thin.

  “Why?” he asked, gring at me.

  “Because it’s a bazaar...” I replied, bewildered.

  “You have nothing to look for there. It’s all garbage and a waste of money,” he shouted angrily, waving his hand dismissively, as if flig aesky fly.

  Rude!

  We retraced our steps toward the hotel, and after about two blocks, arrived at a street with a huge storefront. This store differed from all the others I had seen so far. It was even bigger than the bakery, and all the shop windows were covered with dark blue curtains. The sign above the store read “The et of Secrets.”

  Hmmm... this should be iing.

  I stepped inside, and the sight immediately surprised me. The clothes in this world were very specific. Everyone wore colorful attire, but the styles were well-defined. on women wore simple floor-length skirts or wide pants with a floor-length apron, paired with wide blouses ced up to the neck. en mostly wore pants and loose shirts. Noble women donned eborate dresses that trailed on the floor, while noble men wore tight clothing with a lot of buckles and other decorations. I thought it was very siderate of them to code themselves acc to clothing styles. That way, I always knew who I was dealing with.

  But the clothes in this store were uhe garments were much tighter, and I noticed skirts and dresses that were knee length or even shorter. The men’s clothes cked the excessive buckles and decorations of the nobles, but they were defiight as well—perhaps even tighter.

  A middle-aged man in makeup approached me and said, “I think you’re lost, dear wizard.”

  Oops!

  I fot to ge my css.

  Quickly, I ged my css to mert and replied, “No, no. I know where I am. you expin to me what this shop is? I might be able to offer you some iing things.”

  He looked at me with a furrowed brow and asked, “What thily?”

  “I have special clothes that match the style of this store, as well as face paints and perfume,” I said, watg as his i piqued.

  His eyes lost focus momentarily before he asked, “Weren’t you a wizard just a sed ago?”

  “Yes. I am both a mert and a wizard.”

  He squi me like he was trying to uand something. “How exactly does that work out?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “How do people uand you?” he asked, clearly puzzled.

  “As you uand me right now...” I replied, fused.

  “ht. Now that you mention it, you do sound uandable.”

  I sounded uandable—he didn’t.

  “You didn’t answer me. What is this store?” I asked again, trying to steer the versation ba track.

  “The et of Secrets,” he replied, as if that expined everything.

  “Yes, I saw the sign. But what’s special about this store? How do you sell clothes very different from anything I’ve seen iy?”

  “This is a shop for courtesans,” he said matter-of-factly.

  “But there are men’s clothes here!” I excimed, puzzled.

  He looked at me like I was an alien and said, “Of course. Half the courtesans iy are men.”

  I rubbed my ne embarrassment. I had always thought courtesans were only women. Learn something new every day—or almost every day.

  “So...,” I said, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot, “are you ied in seeing what I have to offer?”

  He led me to the back of the store, and I used the opportunity to Identify him—fair is fair, after all.

  Adi AbayRetired Courtesan Level 17

  Oops!

  At least he didn’t get offended when I said courtesans were women. He just thought I was strange.

  He led me to a ba with an enormous table and waved at it. “Please, show me.”

  I took out the designer clothes I had swiped from Vegas. Until now, I hadn’t tried to offer them—they were too different. But here, they might work.

  Judging by the glint in his eyes, he seemed ied, but also fused. After reviewing a few pieces, he asked, “Why so many bck clothes? Who even wears bck?”

  I almost told him, “Bck is the new bck,” but stopped myself at the st sed. There was no reason to sound like a wizard.

  “Bck is ing into fashion,” I tried, hoping to sound ving.

  He looked at me with narrowed eyes, then shook his head. I got the impression I sounded like a wizard, anyway.

  “Bck is slimming,” I attempted again.

  “Why would anyone want to wear something slimming? The best courtesans are voluptuous,” he tered, clearly unimpressed.

  I sighed and started putting all the bck clothes bato ste. Even after returning all the bck clothes—over sixty pert of what I had—there was still a gigantic pile oable.

  “You said you have face paint, too?” he asked.

  I took out samples of makeup and showed him. He loved them so much that his body vibrated excitedly, and his eyes widened in admiration.

  “Wow!” he excimed, “That’s exceptional!”

  I quickly realized that he pushed everything he wao the left side of the table, and what didn’t i him went to the right. I tio take out more and more makeup, which he pushed to the left side of the table. After about three or four units of everything, he looked at the immense pile he was moving to the buy side, sighed, and said, “I think we’ll stop here. Otherwise, I won’t have enough to pay you.”

  “Are you ied in perfume?” I asked, testing the waters.

  His eyes lit up again. His reas were so easy to read—like those of a little child—everything was immediate and open.

  I showed him some perfumes, and they also made their way to the left side of the table. After about twenty bottles, he raised his hand in a ‘stop’ gesture and said, “I won’t be able to pay you. Don’t show me anymore, or my heart will break.”

  After fifteen minutes of haggling, we reached an agreement on thirty-eight gold. While I haggled to maintain the appearance of a mert, my heart wasn’t really in it. The clothes cost nothing, and I bought the makeup in a at ese prices. Ultimately, we were both satisfied—me because I got rid of more junk from Vegas, a unique merdise at half the Appraisal price. At least Bargain gained a level. That was the only reason I even bothered to do it.

  After we fihe transa, I asked him, “I came to the area looking for the Are Bazaar, but it’s gone. Do you know where it went?”

  “Of course. It’s moved to The Old Empire Road.”

  “Where is that? And what exactly is it?”

  “You’re not from here,” he said, more as a statement than a question.

  No shit, Sherlock.

  “What gave me away?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

  He ughed. “The Old Empire Road is the widest road out of Crystalspire, but no one uses it anymore. The new ws don’t apply there si’s outside the city limits. So, all the merts iy who don’t have a pza writ and those who used to be in the Are Bazaar moved there. Because of this, the name has ged to Free Bazaar instead of Are Bazaar.”

  “I’m not from here, as you guessed. I have no idea what you’re talking about. you give me some background? What nehy don’t they apply? What is a pza writ?”

  “Trading in the pzas has always oher a toll for a trading day or a 12% tribute,” he began, his toter-of-fact, though there was a hint of frustratioh it. “Seventy hty years ago—I’m ly sure of the exaumber—when the royal family renovated and expahe pace, they sold writs for trading in the pzas. The writs were very expensive, but they promised 100 years of free trading for a stall in a pza without tribute or daily payment. When the new king came to power, he passed a w that now everyone has to pay both for a trading day and tribute, and he raised the tribute from 12% to 20%,” he added, shaking his head in disapproval.

  “When this assed, many merts moved to the Are Bazaar,” he expined, his voice growing more animated as he reted the merts’ rebellion. “There’s an aradition in Crystalspire that a stall in the Are Bazaar is free of charge and without tribute because the bazaar is one of the most important attras in Crystalspire, bringing merts and buyers from all over Lumisor and even from other isnds and tis,” he said, with a touch of pride in his voice.

  “In respohe king passed a w that the sale in Are Bazaar now also costs a daily fee for a stand and a tribute,” he tinued, his tourning sour as he spoke of the king’s greed. “When this happehe Are Bazaar moved outside the city limits. And now it’s called the Free Bazaar,” he finished with a small, satisfied smile.

  “But why is the new w only valid ihe city?”

  “Because the normal tribute is for the entire kingdom and remains 12%,” he expined, his expression growing more thoughtful. “The king is greedy, but not stupid. If he raised the tribute for the entire kingdom, he would lose half of his subjects, who would move to Azureas or Soria,” he said, a smirk pying on his lips as he imagihe king’s predit. “He raised it only in Crystalspire, thinking the city residents wouldn’t leave so quickly. I’m guessing he didn’t expect them to move to another location,” he added with a knowing nod, amused by the king’s miscalcution.

  “Iing,” I said, mulling it over.

  “Yes,” he agreed, leaning in slightly as if sharing a secret. “It’s a moral lesson not to be greedy. He tried to make more money and lost all the merts selling in the pzas,” he said, shaking his head again. “You’re not from here, so you might not have noticed the ge, but five years ago, every pza had a small market of some sort. Now, more than half of the pzas are empty, or there are shows in them. Ohe bards and jugglers only performed in the main square in front of the pace or inns; now they perform in the pzas,” he finished, a trace of sadness in his voice.

  “So now a stall in the Free Bazaar doesn’t oney?” I asked, wanting to be sure.

  “No,” he firmed, shaking his head. “The w regarding the stall cost only applies to the pzas iy. The old road is not a pza.”

  “When I sold at Ram-Son, I had to prove that I wasn’t a resident of Crystalholm and didn’t have to pay tribute. Is it like that in the Free Bazaar, too, or must I pay tribute?”

  “No,” he replied, his tone firm. “Traveling merts from outside the kingdom do not pay tribute in any kingdom. The kings are not stupid. If they asked for tribute from traveling merts, they would stop ing to their kingdom,” he expined, a hint of a smirk on his lips. “You just have to swear to a Truth Mage that you’re not from Crystalholm, and you’re exempt,” he added, nodding as if this was on knowledge.

  “I saw that the old bazaar area was divided into numbered lots, with a very angry representative sitting in the pza. What are they doing with it now?” I asked, curious about the situation.

  “That’s Michus—just ignore him,” he replied with a dismissive wave. “He’s one of the king’s treasurers, ahe one who came up with the brilliant idea of taxing the Are Bazaar. As punishment, he now has to sell all the lots in the old bazaar pza. I think he’ll end his life there. In five years, he’s mao sell only two plots. The residents don’t buy out of spite for the axes, and the nobles have all moved to the new nobles’ quarter,” he added with a chuckle, clearly finding some satisfa in Michus’s predit.

  “How do I get to the bazaar? I don’t know the old road,” I admitted, hoping for precise dires.

  “Get to the city’s northern border and follow the carts,” he instructed, sounding amused. “They will lead you there.”

  “Thank you very much for the expnation,” I said, genuinely appreciative.

  “It was my pleasure,” he replied with a slight nod. “ime you’re iy, e to visit me. I’ll have more moo buy iing things,” he added with a grin.

  When I returo the store area, I found Rue lying on his back with his tongue lolling out and tail wagging, while two young women and a young man fussed over him, stroking his belly and scratg his ears. Their ughter filled the air as they engaged in a versation that focused entirely on Rue. I stood back, watg and listening, a chuckle esg me now and then.

  “Where did you eat crabs?” one of the young women asked, her fingers delicately trag patterns on Rue’s fur as she leaned closer.

  “Sailing the sea! Wasn’t that scary?” the young man asked, his toeasing as he ran his fingers behind Rue’s ears, clearly enjoying the dog’s blissful rea. “You are ceous,” he tinued, his smile warm and full of admiration.

  “I don’t like seak,” the other young woman said, her nose wrinkling slightly in distaste as she stroked Rue’s belly. “True, it’s delicious, but the thought of eating a surns me off,” she added with a dramatic shudder, as if the mere idea of it was too much to bear.

  “What level of chef is he?” the first woman asked, raising an eyebrow pyfully as she gnced down at Rue, clearly eained by the versation.

  “How he be a superb chef without css?” the young man quipped, his voice carrying a hint of teasing disbelief as he gave Rue an affeate pat on the side.

  “I’ve asted smoked she sed woman mused, her fingers stilling for a moment as she pohe thought, before resuming her geroking. “Yes, raak is delicious. I’ll have my cook find some smoked crabs and make it. Did you say with sweet cream?” she asked, her tone brightening with i as she looked at Rue with a wide grin.

  Of course, my walking stomach was talking about food. “Buddy, are you ready to leave?” I asked him.

  He rolled ba his feet and included me in the versation. “Rue is going now. Bye!”

  They all said goodbye to him, and we walked toward the door. As we left, I heard Adi say, “You won’t believe what merdise I just received. You’re lucky to be here now—it will be gone by tomorrow.”

  It took Rue and me almost an hour to reach the city’s northern end, and I immediately uood what Adi meant. Carts were moving bad forth in a steady stream, all heading in the same dire, so I followed them. We passed a single road leading out of the city, and when I checked the Map, I saw it was the only road that led north from the city. The carts weren’t precisely traveling on a proper road but on a dirt path, clearly worn down by the sheer amount of traffic. After half an hour, we arrived at the bazaar—and it was something else.

  Along the Old Empire Road, the Free Bazaar was like a busy, crazy patchwork of stalls and people. Stalls lined both sides of the broad, worn-down road, creating a busy route full of sights, sounds, and smells. People selling things called out, and their voices mixed to make a steady hum of activity.

  The things sold were as different as the people walking around. Fresh fruits and veggies stood in woven baskets or on carts. Their bright colors caught the light. Food stands nearby gave off the smell of cookis. Seasoned poultry skewers and cuts of smoked meat sizzled over open fmes.

  Tables in one area held high piles of spices, some familiar like hot pepper, and others pletely new. I could smell the sharp, earthy, sweet smells of dried herbs and ground powders around the stalls.

  There were stalls and carts with clothes and furniture. Most furniture was retively small, like chairs, dressers, or tables. But further down, some big carts sold more oversized furniture, like beds, couches, and closets. Beside them was a line of empty carts a delivery service.

  The most exg part of the bazaar was the area with magical items. I saw a lot of iing things there. Everything was simple, ing in terms of magic. But the execution ahod of work were fasating. They used the two methods I knew. Some things were with runes—mainly dishes and ons. The rest had an embedded spell using the teique I had already learned in Shimoor. When I examihem with my mana sense, I could feel the spell inside and the mesh that locked it in so it wouldn’t dissipate. You could light a room, warm your hands, or lock a door with these simple spells, but the skill arent. It looked like every item had some promise, even if only a tiny one.

  The area dedicated to magical items also had a rge se with merts selling spell scrolls. As I browsed through the spells, I noticed they fell into three distinct groups. One group sold the same spells I had seen in the mage guild iy. Anroup specialized in spells reted to fabrics—things like weaving, dyeing, preventing wrinkles, and a few basitments with very simplistiames, like Keep Warm, Keep Cool, Stay Dry, Stay . The third group had a more intriguiion of spells. They all offered telepathy at a retively cheap prily seven gold—but what caught my eye was the enormous sele of single-use scrolls, ranging in price from oold. Among them were scrolls for healing, anti-venom, Fme Wave, Ice Wall, Bde Storm, Stone Prison, Mirror Image, and a few other less iing ones.

  “Excuse me, sir,” I asked orader. “Why is there such a clear differeween the sellers of the scrolls?”

  “The spells e from three different guilds,” he expined. “The local guild specializes in repair and stru. The guild in Azureas focuses on clothes and clothied spells, and the guild in Soria specializes in single-use spells and telepathy.”

  “Thanks,” I said, nodding as I tinued on. At least now I realized why so many people could use telepathy—a price of seven gold didn’t sound very high.

  The Free Bazaar had a chaotic arra of everything in a fun way. There wasn’t a rational pn, which made the pce more iing. A bunch of fresh herbs might be o a staagical gsses that funed like a jeweler’s loupe, or a rack of intricately woven shawls might be o a bunch of fruit aable boxes on a rickety cart.

  It took us almost two hours to get from the beginning to the end of the bazaar. I didn’t stop to talk or buy, except with the scroll’s seller—I just looked. It was exg and iing, but I saw nothing I wao purchase. When we finally reached the end, I noticed someone opening the cover of his cart and arranging a dispy of jugs simir to the one in my hotel bathroom, each with a bowl beside it.

  “Excuse me, sir,” I addressed him. “If I want to sell here, do I o do anything?”

  “You’re not local?” he asked, eyeing me curiously.

  “No.”

  “Just start selling, and a Truth Mage will e by to check where you’re from.”

  “Thanks,” I said, nodding in appreciation.

  I still wao get rid of all the Vegas stuff, so I pulled out the list ahrough it. The sun was bzing, so I decided to sell sungsses. I had two pallets of designer suwenty boxes on each pallet. The intense sun making everyone squint was the best sales promotion I could have hoped for. I pulled out one of my sales stands, set up a sungsses dispy, and then took a step back to assess it. Each pair of sungsses came in its own case, so I took out some to showcase the lenses and adjusted the dispy until it looked perfect.

  Satisfied with the setup, I took out ten more booths, lihem up, and hung a sign:

  Sales Booth: 60 Gold

  Sun-Gsses: 1 Gold

  The appraisal said the gsses were worth three gold, but I had a lot and just wao get rid of them.

  “Rue go look market,” Rue informed me.

  “Sure, buddy. Here, take some money if you want to buy something, and have fun,” I said, handing him a big batch of s from Earth.

  He eagerly took the s a off to explore. I suspected he’d return stuffed with food, with all the s still inta his Ste. After all, he was an expert moocher, and with so many people having telepathy here, he could mooch even more effectively.

  I was right about the sungsses. It took me half an hour to sell the first pair, but five mier, I sold two more to friends of the girl who bought the first one. After aen minutes, a line formed in front of my stand. It amused me that many men were buying sungsses clearly designed for women—styles with crystals, butterflies, star or heart shapes, or in colors like pink, purple, speckled, or striped yellow. But I kept my ughter to myself, chug inwardly instead. There was no reason to drive ers away.

  After a few hours, the mage arrived, took one look at the sungsses, and said, “I don’t even have to ask. You’re obviously not from here.” And then, to my surprise, he even bought a pair!

  By the end of the day, I had sold all the gsses from the first pallet and was w on selling the sed, with a total profit of over 700 gold. There’s nothing like mass produ from a teological world to make money. Unfortunately, I didn’t sell a single booth, which was depressing. I hoped I wouldn’t be stuck with a Ste full of stalls no one wanted.

  As the sun began to set and the day was ing to a close, I was about to pack up the dispy when a mert approached me. “I’m ied in buying a Sales Booth,” he said.

  At st!

  He didn’t even haggle over the price. He just paid and waved for one of the delivery carts to e and take the stand. As they finished loading it, another mert approached me and also bought oh no fuss.

  I wao facepalm. Of course! Merts are busy selling during the day—they e to buy stalls at the end of the day. Ihan an hour, I sold all ten stands I had taken out, plus five more—another 900 gold in profit. Selling in a big city was a lot of fun.

  I grumbled a little about the system for not granting me a level, but it was half-hearted. To be ho, I didn’t expect a level. I’ve already noticed that it gets more challenging with each additional level. Apparently, the system knew I didn’t truly mean my grumbling because it didn’t even send me a rebuke.

  Rue hadn’t returned yet, so I had to “tug” at our e to let him knoere leaving. A few mier, he appeared, looking like he was dragging himself along. For a moment, I got worried, but I didn’t feel any distress from him. Quite the opposite—he was in heaven. As he got closer, the issue became apparent. He looked nine months pregnant.

  “How much did you eat?!” I asked in shock, my eyes widening at his bloated appearance.

  “Lots lots of lots,” Rue replied with a tired tail wag, his eyes half-closed in te.

  “I see that,” I said, uo hide my amusement as I took in his round belly.

  “John take carriage to room. Rue too tired,” he mumbled, his tail barely managing an as he awkwardly tried to lie on his side. His belly was so distehat he couldn’t even lie down the way he usually did.

  “Too tired or too stuffed?” I asked, smirking as I watched him struggle to get fortable.

  “Too stuffed . Rue too tired,” he insisted, letting out a small huff as he tried to settle down, clearly not admitti.

  “Yeah, right,” I muttered, shaking my head. I didn’t believe him for a sed.