100\% DROP RATE : Why is My Inventory Always so Full? Chapter 839 - 849 - Con Artist

For several heartbeats, Lucien could only stare.

The young man standing in front of him looked almost exactly like Seran.

Not merely similar.

The shape of his face, the easy confidence in his eyes, even the slight curve at the corner of his mouth were familiar enough that Lucien’s thoughts momentarily failed to catch up with what he was seeing.

The stranger, however, did not seem nearly as interested.

He glanced over his shoulder.

That was when Lucien noticed the luggage in his hand.

It was not much, but it looked hurriedly packed.

A cloth bag had been tied badly enough that one corner bulged open, while a smaller case was hooked beneath his arm as though he had grabbed whatever he could carry and left before taking time to arrange it properly.

Then another figure appeared behind him.

Lucien froze again.

Aurelia.

She looked younger than the woman he remembered, but there was no mistaking her face.

Her expression carried none of the composure she would possess in the future. She looked alert, slightly breathless, and more concerned with whatever might be behind them than with the man Seran had nearly knocked over.

Both of her hands were wrapped around a spherical object pressed tightly against her chest.

The man who looked like Seran followed Lucien’s gaze and immediately shifted half a step, blocking Aurelia more naturally than deliberately.

"Sorry, champ. We’re in a rush. I’ll make it up to you next time."

He gave Lucien a quick wink.

Before Lucien could respond, the man caught Aurelia by the wrist.

"Come on."

Aurelia looked back at Lucien.

She offered a small apologetic bow.

Then the two of them disappeared into the moving crowd.

Lucien remained where he was.

For an instant, every instinct told him to follow.

He stopped himself.

He did not know either of them in this era.

They did not know him.

More importantly, they were clearly running from something.

Following two strangers through an unfamiliar city after exchanging a single sentence would be suspicious even under ordinary circumstances.

These circumstances were anything but ordinary.

Lucien watched the space where they had vanished.

The temptation remained.

Seran.

Aurelia.

Both of them.

Here.

He had already found Tavian, Mirelle, and Auren in this era.

Now Seran and Aurelia had appeared in the same city on Lucien’s first visit.

At some point, coincidence stopped being a satisfying explanation.

Lucien’s eyes narrowed.

That’s when several people forced their way through the crowd from the opposite direction.

They were large men.

Not soldiers. Their clothes were too mismatched for that, and none of them carried the insignia Lucien had seen on the city guards.

They did, however, carry clubs, knives, and the expressions of men who were not enjoying their day.

Lucien casually stepped closer to Mirelle’s wagon.

One of the men stopped at a nearby food stall.

"Have you seen this person?"

He held up a sheet.

Lucien leaned just enough to see.

A crude portrait had been drawn across it.

The likeness was not particularly flattering, but it was unmistakable.

Seran.

The stall owner looked at the paper, then toward the direction the pair had run.

His face tightened.

"Passed here not long ago."

"Which way?"

The stall owner pointed.

The large man cursed under his breath.

"That con artist is reall good at running. Come on."

The group immediately moved again.

Lucien watched them disappear into the same section of the market.

Silence stretched inside his head.

Then he slowly raised one hand and pressed it against his forehead.

"Con artist."

Auren glanced at him.

"What?"

Lucien looked toward the street where Seran had vanished.

"Nothing."

He almost laughed.

Of all the possibilities he had considered for Seran’s ancient life, this had not been high on the list.

Then again, perhaps it should have been.

Future Seran had always possessed a certain talent for adapting himself to situations, slipping into roles, and making people underestimate what he was actually doing.

Lucien had simply never imagined that one of those tendencies might once have been used for fraud.

A quiet chuckle escaped him.

Mirelle looked at him suspiciously.

"What is funny?"

Lucien lowered his hand.

"I met someone interesting."

Mirelle had other concerns.

"Interesting people can wait. Help me unload."

Lucien glanced toward the road again.

Seran and Aurelia were already gone.

He could chase them.

He chose not to.

Forcing a connection now could create more problems than answers.

If they belonged somewhere in this era, Lucien wanted to understand what that place was before dragging himself into it.

There was another reason he could not ignore.

The sound.

Lucien turned his attention inward.

It had appeared moments before Seran collided with him.

That timing bothered him more than the coincidence of meeting Seran itself.

Was the strange resonance leading him toward people he already knew?

Had young Lucien been reacting to the future Liberators all those years without understanding why?

His eyes moved toward Mirelle, then Auren, then Tavian.

Young Lucien’s memories contained moments when the strange sound had appeared around them too.

That pattern was difficult to dismiss.

The problem was that the sound had also appeared in ordinary places.

Near the river.

Inside the forest.

During moments when no obvious future Liberator had been nearby.

That weakened the simplest conclusion.

If the sound merely identified certain people, why did locations matter?

If it came from the world itself, why did it seem to react around those people?

Lucien’s curiosity sharpened.

Perhaps the people and places were connected through something he had not yet discovered.

Perhaps the sound was reacting to significance rather than identity.

Or perhaps he was still looking at too few examples and trying to create a pattern too early.

He sighed.

That was the irritating thing about mysteries.

They rarely became clearer simply because he wanted them to.

For now, he knew only that Seran and Aurelia existed in this era.

Seran was apparently a con artist. Aurelia was with him.

Lucien would investigate them eventually.

He already suspected Seran would make a useful companion if his future journey became even half as troublesome as he expected.

A con artist might actually be more useful than Lucien cared to admit.

"Lucien."

Mirelle’s voice interrupted him again.

He turned.

She stood beside the wagon with both hands on her hips.

"If you are finished staring dramatically into the distance, we have goods to sell."

Lucien looked at the bundles.

"Right."

Tavian had already begun assembling a small selling table from several pieces of timber borrowed from a nearby merchant who knew Mirelle.

The construction was simple, but sturdy enough for the day.

Auren moved the wagon slightly closer while Mirelle arranged the first bundles of preserved meat.

Then she changed.

Not completely.

She was still Mirelle.

But Lucien watched her settle into the market with a confidence that had not been as obvious inside the village.

She knew where to stand.

She knew when to raise her voice and when to let curious customers approach on their own.

More importantly, she knew what information mattered.

She did not begin by shouting that the meat was delicious.

Everyone said their food tasted good.

Instead, she spoke to the people most likely to care about the actual advantage.

Hunters. Travelers. Cart drivers. Men preparing to spend several days away from the city.

"This batch was preserved differently," Mirelle explained to the first small group that stopped. "It keeps longer than the usual smoke-cured meat, and it does not become hard enough to fight your teeth."

One hunter raised an eyebrow.

"Everyone says theirs lasts longer."

Mirelle smiled.

"Then do not believe me."

She cut a small piece and offered it to him.

"Believe your mouth."

Lucien looked at her.

Auren quietly turned away, but his shoulders moved.

Tavian was already smiling.

The hunter took the sample.

He chewed.

His expression changed slightly.

"That is softer."

"It will also survive the road."

"How much?"

Mirelle gave the price.

The hunter frowned.

"That is higher than normal preserved meat."

"It is."

"You admit it?"

"Would you trust me more if I lied?"

The man stared at her, then he laughed.

He bought two portions.

That was all Mirelle needed.

The sight of someone purchasing attracted another person.

Then another.

Mirelle began offering smaller samples to people who hesitated.

The taste did more than Lucien expected.

Traditional preserved meat in this area was practical, but practicality often came with consequences.

Some pieces were excessively salted because people feared spoilage.

Others became so dry that chewing them on the road was a chore.

Lucien’s process had not created luxury food.

It had simply made the result more consistent.

That was enough.

Travelers cared that the meat lasted.

Hunters cared that it could be carried for days without becoming unpleasant.

People preparing for longer journeys liked both.

Within an hour, Lucien stopped thinking of the stall as an experiment.

It had become work.

Mirelle handled nearly all of the conversation.

Auren weighed portions and managed the queue whenever too many people gathered at once.

Tavian cut and repacked meat when bundles needed dividing.

Lucien handed over purchases, checked weights, and occasionally answered questions about how long a batch should remain usable.

The coins began accumulating.

Copper at first.

Then silver.

Mirelle counted everything immediately and recorded each sale.

Lucien watched the small pile grow.

His mind drifted.

’Money.’

He needed it.

A great deal of it eventually.

Travel across one kingdom would already require food, lodging, equipment, horses, repairs, and information.

If his search for the Origin Core expanded beyond this region, the costs would only grow.

Lucien looked around the market.

For the first time, he saw something beyond shops and merchants.

Opportunity.

He did not need one miraculous invention.

In fact, one miraculous invention might be exactly what he should avoid.

What he possessed was more useful than that.

Knowledge.

Hundreds of small improvements. Better ways to build. Better ways to preserve. Better tools. Better mechanisms. Better methods for transportation, farming, storage, hunting, and trade.

Most would never change civilization by themselves.

Together, they could make money.

A lot of money.

Lucien’s smile slowly widened.

He was not alone either.

Tavian could build.

Mirelle could sell.

Auren understood transport better than Lucien currently did.

The village had workers, hunters, craftsmen, and people willing to learn if the benefits were obvious.

Perhaps Lucien did not need to become wealthy by himself.

Perhaps he only needed to help everyone around him become more productive.

Then wealth would follow naturally.

Tavian noticed his expression.

"Why are you smiling like that?"

Lucien looked toward the coins.

"I had an idea."

Tavian immediately frowned.

"Is this another idea that requires iron?"

"Probably."

"I knew it."

Lucien laughed.

For once, the future did not feel completely oppressive.

There were mysteries everywhere.

There were dragons.

There was an Origin Core he could not locate.

And now Seran was apparently committing fraud in the city.

But at least money seemed like a problem he could solve.