100\% DROP RATE : Why is My Inventory Always so Full? Chapter 671 - Necklace

It took Lucien several more days to convince the universe to answer through the scale again.

He rebuilt broken authority channels one by one, linked them to the merged Origin Core fragment, and taught the restored structure how to measure without pretending it still possessed the complete truth it once held.

The universe resisted every shortcut.

Lucien expected nothing less.

Equivalent Exchange was not an ordinary authority.

It was a conversation with existence. And existence was apparently a very careful negotiator.

Still, Lucien succeeded.

The balance-scale necklace rested in his palm.

Its metal carried a muted glow. The two tiny plates hung in perfect stillness, yet Lucien could feel the incomplete authority moving quietly inside.

Equivalent Exchange had returned, but not at its full strength.

Its reach was limited by the current Origin Core fragment. It could not yet weigh truths beyond the Core’s recovered understanding, nor could it bargain with complete Primordial authorities or unknown planes.

But for the Big World and the resources currently available to Lootwell, it was more than enough.

Lucien smiled.

The repair had taught him far more than he expected.

Ideas continued forming in his mind.

Some could strengthen the Grace System. Others could improve Lootwell’s networks, contracts, resource exchanges, and even the standards used to distribute dangerous treasures.

Lucien had begun the project because of a promise.

He had finished it with half a dozen new plans.

More importantly, he had enjoyed himself.

That alone made the days worthwhile.

•••

Lucien soon looked for Eirene.

He found her with Anvil-Horn’s group.

Anvil-Horn and his craftsmen were inspecting another completed section when Lucien arrived.

Anvil-Horn looked up from a formation plate.

Lucien glanced toward Eirene.

"May I borrow her for a while?"

Anvil-Horn’s gaze moved between them once.

Then he returned to the formation plate.

"Take her."

Eirene looked at Lucien.

She noticed his expression immediately.

A faint smile touched her lips.

"Did something good happen?"

That question made Lucien slightly suspicious of how easy he had become to read.

He raised an eyebrow.

"You know me well."

Eirene chuckled.

Soon, he led her away.

They entered a quiet chamber Anvil-Hon’s group had only recently completed.

The walls were plain but solid. Formation lines slept beneath the stone, and the air still carried the faint metallic scent of fresh construction.

Once the door closed, Lucien opened his hand.

The necklace appeared.

•••

Eirene stopped breathing for a moment.

Her eyes widened.

The balance-scale necklace rested whole within Lucien’s palm.

The chain had no visible fracture. The scales were aligned. The old glow had returned, quieter than before, but unmistakable.

Something brightened inside her eyes.

Lucien understood immediately.

She had always valued the necklace.

He had known that. He had not understood how deeply.

Lucien held it out to her.

Eirene accepted it with both hands. Her fingers closed around it carefully, as though the necklace might vanish if she held it too tightly.

Lucien watched her.

"This necklace must have been made by someone important to you."

Eirene became still.

For several breaths, she did not answer.

Her thumb brushed across the restored scale. Then she raised her eyes to Lucien.

There were too many emotions in them for him to separate cleanly.

Relief. Gratitude. Longing. Grief that had survived long enough to become quiet. And something warmer beneath all of it.

"It was," she said softly.

Lucien felt an unexpected weight settle in his chest.

He did not know why.

Perhaps it was the way she held the necklace. Perhaps it was the expression she wore while looking at him.

Lucien was no longer as oblivious as he had once been.

He could recognize affection. He could recognize the difference between gratitude and something deeper.

The way Eirene looked at him did not feel like the gaze one gave an ordinary friend.

That realization made him suddenly uncertain what to do with his hands.

He coughed lightly.

"The person who created it cared for you greatly."

Eirene’s fingers tightened around the necklace.

Lucien continued, partly because discussing craftsmanship felt safer than discussing her expression.

"I could see it in the structure."

Her eyes softened.

"Every string was made with care," Lucien said. "Not only the important layers. Even the parts no one was meant to see carried safeguards, corrections, and details that were not strictly necessary."

He looked toward the balance scale.

"The creator did not merely want the necklace to function. He wanted it to protect the person wearing it."

Eirene remained silent. Then she smiled.

The smile was small, but it held more sadness and happiness than Lucien understood.

He looked away for a moment.

"I repaired what I could," he said. "I could not perfectly reproduce the original craftsman’s intent."

Eirene opened her mouth, but Lucien continued.

"Still, I did not treat it carelessly. My own intent is mixed into the restored strings, and I do not leave work half-finished."

Eirene looked down at the necklace again.

"I know."

Her voice was almost a whisper.

"That is enough."

Then she looked back at him.

"I treasure it even more now."

Lucien froze for half a breath.

For some reason, that sentence landed with far more weight than it should have.

He quickly turned toward the technical part.

"There is one problem."

Eirene waited.

"The authority has returned, but it is weaker than before."

Lucien explained the connection to the Origin Core.

Equivalent Exchange had once relied on a complete reference foundation. With only the merged fragment available, the necklace could not regain its full universal reach.

"For now, its measurements will be limited," Lucien said. "But I linked the authority to the Origin Core’s growth. As we recover more fragments, Equivalent Exchange should gradually restore itself."

Eirene barely reacted to the limitation.

She pressed the necklace gently against her chest.

"As long as it is whole, that is enough."

Lucien smiled.

She truly did care about it.

Perhaps more than its authority.

That made him strangely glad.

•••

Lucien turned toward the door.

Before he could take another step, something tugged lightly at his robe.

He stopped.

Eirene still held the edge of his sleeve.

Lucien looked back.

She hesitated for only a moment. Then she held the necklace toward him.

"Can you put it on me?"

Lucien stared at her.

The request was simple. Her expression was not.

Hope rested openly in her eyes. There was also something fragile there, something that made refusal feel impossible.

Lucien’s throat felt dry.

He smiled faintly.

"Of course."

He accepted the necklace from her hands.

Eirene turned around.

Her long hair fell across her back.

Lucien carefully moved it aside, then lifted the chain around her neck.

His fingers brushed the clasp.

The necklace settled against her chest.

Eirene closed her eyes.

•••

In her previous life, she had received the necklace only after learning that the man who made it was already dead.

She had held his final gift with hands that could no longer reach him.

There had been no chance to thank him.

No chance to see him place it around her neck.

No chance to ask whether the care hidden in every string had meant what she hoped it meant.

That ending had remained inside her for lifetimes.

Now, the same hands had repaired it.

The same man stood behind her.

And this time, he was alive.

He did not remember.

He did not know what he had once been to her.

Still, his fingers closed the clasp with the same impossible care.

The knot buried within Eirene’s heart loosened.

Something old finally stopped hurting.

Tears slipped from beneath her closed eyes.

Lucien noticed immediately.

His hands paused.

"Sister Eirene?"

She did not answer.

Lucien did not ask again.

Instead, he stepped past her and lowered himself beside her.

Then he leaned back until his back rested gently against hers.

The contact was light.

Enough to remind her that she was not alone without forcing her to turn around or explain anything.

Eirene’s shoulders trembled once.

Lucien remained where he was.

They had always shared a strange understanding.

When one of them did not wish to speak, the other did not force words into the silence.

They did not need every grief explained.

They did not need every comfort named.

Sometimes, simply feeling the other person there was enough.

Neither had to look at the other.

Neither had to hide.

Eirene held the necklace against her heart.

Lucien rested quietly behind her.

For a long while, the newly completed chamber contained only fading tears, quiet breathing, and the warmth of two people who had learned how to care without asking for words.