100\% DROP RATE : Why is My Inventory Always so Full? Chapter 840 - 850 - Night

By the time the afternoon shadows began lengthening across the market, the table was nearly empty.

Lucien had expected the preserved meat to sell.

He had not expected everything to disappear in a few hours.

The final bundle went to a caravan worker preparing to leave the city the next morning.

The man weighed the package in his hands before glancing toward the empty wagon.

"That is all?"

Mirelle nodded.

"For today."

"When will you have more?"

"When we have more."

"You should bring twice this amount."

Mirelle smiled politely without promising anything.

"I’ll remember that."

The man left.

Lucien watched him disappear into the market.

Several other customers had asked similar questions during the last hour.

That mattered.

Anyone could sell a limited product once if curiosity carried the day.

People asking when it would return meant they believed it had practical value.

Mirelle lowered herself onto the small stool behind the table and finally counted the remaining coins.

Tavian leaned over.

"How much?"

She covered the pile with one hand.

"Do not breathe on the money."

"I was looking."

"You look aggressively."

Auren laughed.

Lucien crouched beside her.

The final total was considerably higher than he had expected.

Dozens of silver pieces.

The exact amount meant more in this age than the number suggested.

A single silver coin could support a small family for a meaningful stretch if they lived carefully.

This was not noble wealth.

It was not enough to buy estates or fund armies.

For one village selling excess boar meat, however, it was extraordinary.

Tavian whistled quietly.

Auren stared at the coins.

Mirelle did not look surprised.

That probably meant she was extremely pleased.

Lucien glanced at her records.

After accounting for the portions belonging to each household, the village still had enough collective earnings to cover a large part of the repairs.

The villagers had agreed beforehand that necessary communal materials would be deducted before the remaining profits were distributed.

That decision now became very useful.

They packed the table and immediately began spending money.

The first destination was the metal market.

Tavian tried to behave normally.

Lucien watched him fail.

The moment they entered the section where iron bars, nails, tools, hinges, and scrap metal were displayed, his pace changed.

He slowed.

His eyes moved from stall to stall.

He picked up pieces, tested weight, examined surfaces, and asked questions that became progressively more specific.

Lucien walked beside him.

"You look happy."

"I am inspecting material."

"You look very happy while inspecting material."

Tavian ignored him.

Mirelle negotiated.

That quickly became another source of entertainment.

Tavian would find something he wanted.

The merchant would state a price.

Mirelle would look offended by the existence of that price.

Then the argument began.

Lucien initially thought she was being overly aggressive.

Several purchases later, he realized she simply understood the market better than any of them.

She knew which goods had room for bargaining and which did not.

She knew when buying larger quantities justified a lower rate.

She also knew when to stop before a merchant became genuinely unwilling to sell.

By the time they left the metal district, Tavian had more iron than he expected and Mirelle had spent less money than Lucien thought possible.

They purchased nails, hinges, replacement tool heads, stronger cord, additional salt, lamp oil, leather straps, and several other supplies needed for the village improvements.

Lucien added a few materials for experiments.

Mirelle questioned every one.

He had to explain what he intended to use them for before she allowed the purchases.

Lucien found that strangely reassuring.

If he ever became careless with money, Mirelle would apparently prevent him from ruining himself.

The problem became obvious only after they returned to the wagon.

Auren stared at the growing pile, then he looked at the wagon, then he looked back at the pile.

"No."

Mirelle frowned.

"No what?"

"No."

Tavian crossed his arms.

"It will fit."

Auren looked personally insulted.

"Where?"

Tavian pointed.

"There."

"That is where Lucien sits."

Lucien looked toward the indicated space.

"I support Auren."

Tavian frowned.

"You complained about the wagon the entire journey."

"That does not mean I am willing to become cargo."

They spent several minutes rearranging everything before admitting defeat.

The wagon could technically carry more weight.

That was not the same as saying it should.

Auren refused to overload the horse merely because they had become enthusiastic shoppers.

Lucien agreed immediately.

It was already late enough that traveling back to the village would force them onto dark roads.

The shortcuts Auren had used during the day would be far more dangerous at night.

Roots, slopes, sudden turns, and narrow paths were manageable in daylight.

In darkness, one damaged wheel could leave them stranded.

They agreed to remain in the city overnight.

Mirelle knew a modest inn several streets away from the market that regularly accepted merchants and wagon drivers.

It was not luxurious.

Lucien found that comforting.

The rooms were clean, the courtyard had enough space for the horse and wagon, and the innkeeper allowed them to store the purchased materials under cover for the night.

After securing everything, they ate downstairs.

The meal was simple.

Stew. Bread. Roasted vegetables.

Lucien ate more than he expected.

The journey, market work, and hours spent moving supplies had apparently demanded more from his ordinary body than he realized.

Across the table, Tavian ate as though someone might confiscate his bowl.

Auren was slower.

Mirelle continued checking her records between bites.

Lucien watched the three of them.

This felt oddly peaceful.

The day had begun with Seran appearing in front of him like a ghost from the future and Aurelia running behind him with something clutched against her chest.

Now Lucien was sitting inside an ordinary inn while his friends argued quietly over whether Tavian had purchased too much iron.

The contrast should have felt absurd.

Instead, Lucien found himself enjoying it.

After eating, he leaned back.

"I am going out for a while."

Mirelle looked up immediately.

"Where?"

"I want to look around."

"You spent the entire day looking around."

"Not properly."

Auren glanced toward the windows.

The city had darkened outside, although the main streets remained active beneath lanterns and shop lights.

"I’ll come."

Lucien shook his head.

"You should rest."

"So should you."

"I will not be long."

Tavian narrowed his eyes.

"That usually means you are planning something."

Lucien smiled.

"I am always planning something."

That did not reassure anyone.

Mirelle closed her record board.

"At least tell us where you are going."

Lucien considered how much truth to give.

"I want to understand the city better. We might be coming here often if the meat continues selling."

That was true.

"I also want to see what people here buy, what they lack, and what might be worth producing in the village."

That was also true.

Auren still looked unconvinced.

Lucien added, "I will stay inside the main districts."

Mirelle finally nodded.

"Do not get robbed."

Tavian looked toward him.

"Or conned."

Lucien nearly laughed.

"If I meet a con artist, I’ll be careful."

The irony was almost painful.

They did not know that Lucien had already met one.

He left the inn a few minutes later.

The city felt different at night.

During the day, the market had overwhelmed everything with movement and sound.

Now the streets breathed more slowly.

Merchants closed shutters.

Workers carried tools home.

Taverns grew louder as shops became quieter.

Lanterns hung outside inns, larger stores, and intersections near guard posts.

Lucien walked without hurry.

His stated reason for exploring was genuine.

He wanted to see what people needed.

Markets revealed weaknesses in ordinary life better than grand buildings ever could.

What did people repair often?

What goods were expensive because they were difficult to produce?

What products existed in crude forms that could be improved without changing the world overnight?

He saw opportunities almost immediately.

Wagon wheels with uneven construction.

Poor storage containers.

Tools whose handles wore out faster than their iron heads.

Oil lamps that wasted fuel.

Locks that relied on extremely simple mechanisms.

Lucien could improve many of them.

He deliberately did nothing yet.

Observation first.

The city had existed long before he arrived.

People here understood their own needs better than Lucien would after a single afternoon.

He wanted to know which improvements were actually valuable before assuming his future knowledge automatically made every idea useful.

Money remained important.

Lucien had no intention of ignoring that.

If he eventually left the village for a long journey, he needed enough wealth that every delay did not become a question of food or lodging.

He did not need noble-level riches immediately.

He needed independence.

Enough money to travel where clues took him.

Enough to buy information.

Enough to acquire tools and materials without waiting for permission.

Enough to help people around him when necessary.

The preserved meat had shown him a path.

Small improvements.

Reliable production.

Mirelle’s ability to sell.

Tavian’s ability to make.

Auren’s ability to move goods efficiently.

Lucien smiled faintly.

It was almost unfair how well the pieces fit together.

Then his thoughts returned to Seran.

He slowed.

That was the second reason he had come out alone.

The burly men had called Seran a con artist.

Lucien wanted to know what kind.

There was a great difference between someone who cheated gamblers, someone who impersonated officials, and someone who stole from dangerous people.

He intended to ask carefully.

Not directly.

The city was large enough that Seran likely had some reputation if people were carrying his portrait through the market.

Someone would know something.

Lucien continued along the street.

There was also the strange sound.

That mattered more than the money.

More than Seran’s occupation.

Lucien needed more information before forming another theory.

Perhaps the sound reacted to something all of them shared.

Perhaps it reacted to events that would become important later.

Perhaps it was not leading him toward people at all.

Maybe Seran had simply crossed the path of whatever Lucien had been hearing.

That possibility bothered him most.

Lucien stopped near an intersection.

He closed his eyes.

The city continued moving around him.

Footsteps passed.

A cart rolled somewhere farther away.

Voices drifted from a nearby tavern.

Lucien listened beneath all of it.

But nothing.

The strange resonance did not return.

He opened his eyes.

’Fine.’

If it refused to cooperate, he would investigate everything else.

He looked toward the busier streets ahead.

Somewhere in this city, Seran and Aurelia might still be hiding.

Somewhere else, merchants and travelers carried news from regions Lucien had never seen.

And scattered throughout the markets were opportunities that could eventually fund his journey across this ancient world.

Lucien started walking again.

Tonight, he would learn what he could.

Tomorrow, he would return to the village.

After that, things would begin moving much faster.