Ugly Merchant

Breeze sat rigidly on the backless wooden bench, its rough surface pressing against his spine—a deliberate slight reserved for merchants and other "lesser" visitors. The ornate parlor around him reeked of wealth: gilded mirrors reflecting dancing candlelight, velvet curtains heavy with the scent of expensive perfumes, and marble floors so polished they gleamed like still water. The air hung thick with the aroma of exotic incense, but underneath it lurked something sharper—the metallic tang of barely contained tension.

Isabella adjusted her position on her plush, high-backed chair, silk rustling against embroidered cushions. Breeze's words had struck a nerve, triggering her "attention-seeking" instincts. Her emerald eyes narrowed to slits as they raked across his form, scrutinizing every inch of him.

"Hmm…" The sound escaped her lips like a serpent's hiss. Her gaze was a blade, cutting and probing. "I'm not someone easily deceived by any cunning merchant." She lifted a crystal goblet filled with spring water, the liquid catching the lamplight like diamonds. "Sometimes, I let myself be deceived on purpose—only to show any confident swindler a living nightmare afterward, showing him what it means to mess with nobility." Her voice dropped to a whisper that somehow carried more menace than any shout.

Breeze's response was a smile—not the nervous twitch of a caught liar, but something warm and genuine that seemed to light up the shadowed corners of his face.

The Marchioness studied him with the intensity of a hawk eyeing prey. Then she smiled back—a smile devoid of any feelings. In one explosive motion, she hurled the contents of her goblet.

Water arced through the perfumed air in a crystalline spray. Breeze, with the instinct of a gladiator, reacted, his body uncoiling in a perfect backflip that sent him soaring over the scattered droplets. His boots whispered against the marble as he landed in a crouch, but even as he straightened, the empty goblet was already spinning through the air toward his skull.

Time seemed to stretch like heated glass. His hand snapped up with the precision that made him the king of the Colosseum, fingers closing around the crystal vessel with barely a whisper of sound. The goblet settled into his palm as if it had always belonged there, not even a tremor betraying the violent force of its flight.

The silence that followed was deafening. Isabella's face had gone pale as moonlight, her composed mask cracking to reveal the raw shock beneath. In all her years of testing merchants, or even trained soldiers—she had never witnessed such effortless, inhuman grace.

Her mind raced down dark corridors of possibility. 'No merchant moves like that. No ordinary man could have...' Cold sweat beaded on her forehead as paranoid thoughts clawed at her consciousness. 'Assassin. It has to be. And I'm alone, utterly alone in this room.'

"Tell me," she said, her voice steady despite the terror clawing at her throat, "Who hired you to do this?"

Breeze blinked, genuine confusion clouding his features l. "I don't really understand what you're talking about, Marchioness. If there's any kind of misunderstanding, let's clear it peacefully." He held up the small glass vial containing the beauty salve, its contents gleaming like starlight. "I'm here to present you this beauty salve, nothing more, nothing less."

The silence was unbearable. Isabella's breathing had grown shallow, her knuckles white where they gripped the arms of her chair.

"You don't seem like a merchant to me," she finally said, controlling every facial muscle as much as she could. "I don't know what you are, but a merchant is out of the question."

Something shifted in Breeze's expression—a flicker of admiration that softened the harsh planes of his face. "I'm truly impressed by your sharpness, Marchioness. Your perception cuts deeper than most blades." Isabella's eyes narrowed further, pupils dilating with renewed alarm. "Let me present myself properly—my name is Breeze, and I was once a gladiator. When I earned my freedom through blood and sweat, I began this merchant career. I hope you'll ease those tense muscles of yours; my purpose here revolves entirely around business."

He produced the beauty salve again, the vial catching the candlelight like captured sunbeams. "If you suspect this contains poison or worse, you're welcome to test it on one of your maids first. You'll witness the remarkable results yourself."

Relief flooded through Isabella's body, though she masked it behind her noble composure. The pieces fit now—the controlled violence, the predatory grace, the casual confidence in the face of danger—a gladiator and not any gladiator—a gladiator king. Of course.

"Marchioness," Breeze continued, his voice gentling like a summer breeze, "I hope you won't consider this overstepping, but I've heard whispers of assassination attempts against you in recent years. That's why you're so cautious around me. But I assure you that my purpose here is purely business."

Isabella's eyes went wide, blinking rapidly. Then, unexpectedly, laughter bubbled up from deep in her chest—rich, genuine mirth that echoed off the vaulted ceiling. "Your boldness in mentioning something so delicate has actually dissolved my doubts about your intentions," she gasped, dabbing at tears of joy with a silk handkerchief. "But that doesn't make me any less cautious about your product. I'll test it on a maid before trying it myself. And don't worry—even if the results disappoint, I won't damage your business reputation. Consider it appreciation for your... charming appearance and refreshing honesty."

"I'm deeply grateful for your generosity, Marchioness."

"Think nothing of it. You're pardoned, you charming merchant-gladiator."

Breeze practically bounced on his toes as he strode from the manor, excitement radiating from him like heat from a forge, 'Everything went so smoothly' he thought. The evening air tasted sweet as he approached the waiting carriage where Ivar and Jasper sat, their faces etched with concern.

...

Telling them every detail of the audience.

"Do you really consider that encounter smooth, Breeze?" Jasper asked, his voice tight with disbelief. "I honestly don't know how you measure success."

"Well," Breeze said, with a satisfied grin, "comparing this to the colosseum, I can tell you with absolute certainty—this mission was child's play. No one tried to disembowel me, after all."

"While both situations could be called battles, they're completely incomparable!" Jasper's mouth hung open.

"That's not the point, Master," Ivar interjected with barely contained glee. "He said the Marchioness gave him special treatment because she found him charming. I can't imagine what would have happened if you'd been the one to meet her—she would have accused you of being an assassin without question! Ha ha ha!"

The carriage lurched as Ivar found himself airborne, tumbling onto the cobblestone road with a satisfying thud.

"Run," Jasper commanded coldly. "Five kilometers. Keep up with the carriage."

"You're so cruel, Master!" Ivar panted, his feet already pounding against the stones as he struggled to match their pace.

"Be thankful I didn't make you trade places with the horse."

"Neighhhh!" The horse whinnied enthusiastically, tossing its mane as if eager to try.

***

One month earlier...

After Falcon left the guild leaving five strangers surrounding one small, trembling girl.

Lysandra dropped to her knees, scooping the child into arms that were surprisingly strong for their slender appearance. "What a precious little angel," she murmured, her warm voice carrying a calming tone.

Mina approached her with a motherly smile and presence, caressing Lina's hair, "Tell us what's your name?"

"I'm... I'm Lina," the girl whispered, her voice barely audible

"Wow!" Lysandra's eyes sparkled like stars. "This little beauty shares our mother's name, Breeze."

Breeze nodded, smiling.

"Are you hungry, Lina?" Mina asked, feeling the child's too-thin frame.

The little girl nodded in embarrassment, Lina felt the warm welcoming people around her but she was still shy.

"Breeze, heat some water," Lysandra said knowing that Breeze will comply almost instantly. "Our Lina needs a proper bath before the meal." carrying her, she said "Tell me, Lina, do you want to be my little sister? I really do want a little sister."

"Mm," Lina hummed, nodding, making Lysandra squeezing her tightly and kissing her soft cheeks.

Meanwhile, Jasper retreated to his room, he wanted to train his character and discover new things, who knows he might find something precious like that [Horned Rabbit Hunting Strategy (Parchment)]. But there was a huge hurdle, it was none other than that old fart.

"Power On", The familiar training grounds materialized.

talking to his to-be-mentor, two option appeared in front of him,

3D Practice Mode.

Special Practice Mode.

"3D and Special Practice mode?" Jasper mused, stroking his chin. "But, what is this 3D thing?

Thinking…

After a moment's consideration, he shrugged. "The Special Practice Mode was obviously designed for someone of my caliber." He smirked with overflowing confidence.

You are not qualified yet to choose the Special Practice Mode.

"..." Silence.

"Anyway, 3D Practice Mode that's it."

Congratulations Dear user for Unlocking the 3D mode. While this mode is available only for certain events. Still, it's a good thing to change perspectives once in a while.

Everything changed in front of Jasper, he got quite impressed by the view in front of him. As if he was living inside the game now.

A few seconds later, a list of training plan appeared:

Sword training.10Km running.Muscle training.Reflex training.Flexibility training.

Choosing Sword training to start with, his character started swinging a sword "Look how awesome my character is when swinging," Getting a gloomy look when he realised that his character is better than him at training.

Each swing drained his Stamina Points by one. He needed to complete 1,000 repetitions, but his SP maxed at 500. After his character executed the 500th perfect cut, it simply... stopped. Frozen mid-swing like a statue.

A frantic search through his inventory revealed no stamina potions.

He went straight to the apothecary, buying some Energy Potions and went back fast to continue his training.

Resuming the swinging for a five-hundred times more, running for 10Km, lifting weights, dodging & deflecting the thrown object, and acrobatics.

When the ordeal ended, a status window materialized:

Strength: 5.5 + 0.2 → 5.7

Vitality: 6 + 0.2 → 6.2

Agility: 9 + 0.1 → 9.1

Stamina: 5 + 0.2 → 5.2

Dexterity: Depends on your average level of skills + 0.25 to Dexterity each time Strength, Vitality, Agility, or Stamina reaches a multiple of 10.

Tip: Dexterity is responsible for: increasing your character's chances of Critical hit, Precision if you are using a long ranged weapon, success in (Crafting, smithing, concocting potions, etc), and learning martial arts faster.

"Finally those stats moved up, I was wondering when they would start rising up. but honestly this is too little. And this dexterity is really "

Retired Mercenary (Ace):

Let me tell you my name, honoring your efforts. I'm ace, and I used to be the ace of this mercenary guild. I don't want any pathetic person to remember me, but you deserve to know it.

("Thanks for the useless information, don't worry, no reader will remember you in a few chapters". Jasper said, mockling)

Also the training is still going on for 20 days. If you stop it half the way, don't come crying to me next time to teach you.

"No sh! Another 20 days? Now I'll remember you even if all the readers forgets about you my dear mentor, Hihihi my stats will rise by 2, how lucky". Jasper said with a big smile.

Jasper went to an inn for his character to sleep and restore its SP, and after the character woke up he went to the training area but he couldn't train telling him that he can only train tomorrow.

"Oh? so it doesn't mean 20 days by the game's standard. Well, not bad, I need to teach Breeze how to act as a merchant until we get a response from Marchioness."

A few days later, Tertius and Ivar were strolling around the slums, inspecting the area and checking if there was any trouble. Everything seemed good. Some members were wandering around the city for any good information or even rumors.

Franco lounged in a patch of shade with several others, grease-stained fingers tearing into roasted chicken wings that filled the air with smoky, savory aromas. He spotted Tertius and Ivar and waved them over with a wing bone. "Join us!" he called, his voice rich with the contentment of good food and better company. They gladly accepted, settling onto makeshift seats and lazing among the others as they ate and drank.

"It's wonderful having you both here," Franco said, taking a deep pull from his drink. "Were you just patrolling, or does the boss have new orders?"

"While we are checking if there is any trouble and if you all are still maintaining discipline. We need someone else to check on us too or we won't keep being disciplined too, Haa Haa Haa." Ivar said laughing.

"That's true, living under constant scrutiny gets exhausting," one member complained, wiping foam from his lips. "Some fun never hurt anyone, Mr. Ivar."

"'Mr. Ivar'—I like the sound of that," Ivar chuckled. "Speaking of which, Franco, where's Wolf? Haven't seen him lately."

Franco's expression grew thoughtful. "Honestly, I'm not sure. He leaves at dawn and returns after dark, never letting anyone follow. We tried tracking him once, but he gave us the slip... though we didn't try very hard. We trust him."

"If anything happens, report to me or Tertius immediately. Hic," Ivar said, his words beginning to slur as alcohol warmed his blood.

"Of course I'd do that, I can't afford to report the boss or even meet him, he is so scary."

After sharing the meal and several more rounds of drinks, Ivar and Tertius rose on unsteady legs and began their journey back to the guild, the setting sun painting the slums in shades of gold and crimson.

"Ha ha ha! I can't blame them for being scared of Master," Ivar laughed, stumbling slightly. "He looks like something from nightmares, but he's actually weak and gentle. He treats me—a slave—like a valued subordinate. We're incredibly fortunate to have a master like him, don't you think, Azm?"

Tertius stopped dead in his tracks, his blood running cold as ice water. "Azm? Who is that? I'm Tertius."

"Hmm? Oh yes, sorry—you're Tertius. Got confused for a moment." Ivar's explanation was cut short as he toppled forward, snoring before he hit the ground.

Tertius stared at the unconscious Ivar for several heartbeats, memorizing those carelessly spoken words. Then, with practiced ease, he hefted Ivar onto his broad shoulders.

Knock! Knock! Knock!

"Who is it?" came a sweet, childlike voice from behind the heavy wooden door.

"Ivar got too drunk. I brought him home," Tertius replied, his voice carefully neutral.

"Ivar!" She opened the door cheerfully when she heard the name Ivar. The swung open to reveal Lina's beaming face, joy radiating from her like sunlight.

"No, don't open the—" Mina's warning came too late.

As the door revealed the scene within—Mina's concerned face, little Lina's innocent smile, and there, sitting gracefully in a chair like a living work of art, Lysandra. Her beauty hit Tertius like a piercing arrow, stealing his breath and freezing his thoughts. Dark hair cascaded over her shoulders like a waterfall of silk, and her eyes—those impossibly expressive eyes—widened in alarm before she fled to her brother's room with a cry of distress.

Mina sighed deeply, the sound heavy with resignation and exhaustion. She approached Tertius, who stood motionless as a statue, and struggled to lift Ivar's substantial weight from his shoulders. The unconscious man was like a sack of grain, all dead weight and awkward angles.

"Thank you for bringing him," she panted, finally managing to deposit Ivar on a nearby bench where he continued snoring peacefully.

"Ah, yes... no problem. That's... that's my job," Tertius stammered, his usual confidence shattered by the lingering image of Lysandra's terrified face.

Door closed!

Jasper emerged from his room, his expression dark as a moonless night after hearing Lysandra's cry. He took in the scene—Mina catching her breath, Ivar unconscious on the bench, Lina cowering by the door.

"What happened?" Jasper asked.

Mina quickly explained, watching Jasper's face grow more thoughtful with each word. He approached the frightened Lina, his scarred features softening as he knelt to her level and gently caressed her hair.

"It's alright, little one. Nothing bad happened. But next time, wait for one of us before opening the door, okay?"

Lina's eyes filled with tears. "I'm sorry. I won't do it again."

"Good girl. Go wash your face now."

After Lina scampered away, Jasper turned to the snoring Ivar and shook him roughly. "Wake up, you troublemaker!"

"Snore! Mmm, okay, honey, just a little more time. I'm so tired," Ivar mumbled, still lost in dreams. "I'm the one who is tired, you—sigh!" Jasper surrendered

The hall fell silent except for Ivar's continued snoring. Mina's face turned crimson, her hands flying to cover her burning cheeks.

"I apologize, Master," she whispered. "It's my fault for being too lenient with him."

"Don't blame yourself, Mina. This one is beyond redemption. Don't waste your energy."

"Thank you for understanding, Master."

Lysandra and Breeze left the room. "I'm sorry, Master. I shouted when I got surprised. I'll try to control myself from now on," Lysandra said, feeling guilty.

"Don't apologize," Jasper replied. "If you're ever in danger, shout—better safe than sorry. You are too important to me."

The building grew silent except for Ivar's snoring again. Jasper's face warmed as he realized how personal his words sounded. He quickly added, "You're the guild's greatest pillar. Your safety is too important to us."

Breeze grinned, ruffling Lysandra's hair. "And you're my only sister. So cry, scream, whatever—I'll always come running."

Lysandra started foolishly smiling.

…

After several days of practicing, everything was going smoothly, until night fell.

Falcon was returning to the slums and as usual he passed by the guild, it had become a habit for him to check on the guild multiple times a day, but this time he noticed Tertius climbing the wall and sneaking into a window a few seconds later a brief, sharp cry was barely audible—cut off as if stifled before it could leave the throat. Falcon raged and started roaring. "TERTIUS YOU FUC!ER!!" Falcon, outside, vaulted the gate as if he was flying. "Open up, Tertius betrayed you, Boss!"

Everyone except Breeze—dead to the world from exhaustion, woke up in panic hearing the voice outside, "That F!ing traitor he really did it," Jasper snarled.

Tertius leaped from the window he had just climbed into, carrying none other than Lysandra. She hung in his grip like a broken doll, her face pale with terror and one hand pressed to her throat where he'd cut off her scream. "Ugh, Falcon, ugh! And here I thought you were a wise man," he taunted.

"Take your hands off her, Tertius! If the boss finds out you are dead meat!"

"Pfft! The Boss? Dead meat? How funny!" Tertius threw back his head and laughed "That weakling is doomed tonight. I was planning to kill everyone except this beauty, I have never touched a woman in my life and look how fortunate I am, I'll be free, rich, and a beauty by my side all in one night!"

"Stop messing around Tertius, or I'll stop you myself."

"I really admire your loyalty Falcon, how about this, be my right hand and I'll leave the other woman alive for you, we will live like kings here."

"That's... actually a tempting offer. A few days ago, I might have gladly accepted. But now I can't bear to disappoint little Lina, even if it costs me my life. Besides, I've already pledged my loyalty to the boss."

"Your loss, I gave you a once in a lifetime opportunity, but you didn't appreciate it. you will die along with your boss tonight."

Ivar came running to help Falcon facing Tertius, "Tertius, you traitorous dog, how could you betray us."

"Well, well, well. My best friend Ivar, I should thank you for the intelligence you provided."

"Huh? What are you talking about?"

"Let me refresh your memory then tell me who is the real traitor between us:

Ha ha ha, I can't blame them for being scared of the Master. He horrifically looks like a nightmarish creature, but he is so weak and gentle. He even treats me—a slave, like a subordinate. We are really fortunate to have a master like him, don't you think so, Azm?

While I don't know who this Azm is, I'm really thankful for him."

The color drained from Ivar's face like water from a broken vessel. Each word Tertius spoke brought back more of that drunken conversation, and the horrible realization of his mistake crashed over him.

Mina stood beside Jasper, her hand clamped over her mouth to stifle a gasp of horror. She could already imagine the punishment Ivar would face for this catastrophic error.

Jasper released a long, weary sigh. "Mina, please wake Breeze. He exhausted himself training today—that's why he didn't hear Falcon's warning."

Mina raced through the building like the wind itself, throwing open Breeze's door with enough force to rattle the hinges. "Breeze, wake up! Breeze!"

The former gladiator lay in his bed like the dead, his body pushed beyond its limits by hours of grueling physical training. His room reeked of sweat, weights scattered across the floor.

"Breeze, your sis—" Mina didn't even finish the sentence before Breeze's eyes snapped open. He moved with explosive speed, his body going from unconscious to fully alert in an instant. The mention of Lysandra had triggered something primal in him—a protective instinct.

Outside, Falcon and Ivar charged toward Tertius with desperate courage, but their enemy was operating on an entirely different level. His fists moved like sledgehammers, each blow precise and devastating. Both men crumpled with sickening thuds, their bodies hitting the ground like broken puppets.

Jasper stepped through the front door, his footsteps echoing in the tense night air. "Tertius. How thoroughly unpleasant to see you like this."

"Ha ha ha! Yes, I'm sure it's unpleasant—because tonight is your funeral!" Tertius laughed, his grip tightening on Lysandra's trembling form.

But his amused expression shattered like glass when a familiar silhouette emerged from the building's shadow. The full moon hung overhead like a pale witness, its light revealing the approaching figure..

Breeze stepped into the moonlight behind Jasper, and Tertius's face went white as bone. The former gladiator moved with killing intent, every step promising violence, every breath carrying the scent of barely contained fury. His bloody eyes—those eyes that had stared down death in the arena countless times—fixed on Tertius with the intensity of a predator.

"Yo, Tertius, It's been quite some time, hasn't it?"