The place was in a part of the city Chiaya had never been to before, just before the poorer outskirts. As the car moved forward, the buildings started to look older, shorter, and farther apart.
The place was on a small street just off the main road. She found a parking spot on the avenue and parked the car.
Before getting out, Chiaya turned to Karan.
"You might want to put your armor in your bag. I don't know if there's much theft in this area. It's still early in the day but... it's better to be safe than sorry."
Karan looked at her.
"If there's anyone brave enough to steal from me, I'd like to meet them," he said, in that deep voice of his.
Chiaya sighed.
"Karan, why don't you listen to me? If we get into trouble, we might have to deal with the police."
Even as she protested, a small part of her was impressed by his confidence.
Here, the way people dressed was similar to those in the city center, but the clothes looked cheaper and less fashionable. That made Chiaya feel a little sad.
She hadn't grown up in a rich family, but she'd never gone without the things she truly needed either.
Even after she started earning a salary, she wasn't spending money on luxuries, still she wasn't really saving much either.
Her own financial situation didn't feel great—so she couldn't help but wonder how people with even less managed to live. What did they eat? Are they happy?
They found the place without much trouble.
Chiaya studied the entrance of the shop. The sign looked no different than the one on the website—old and ugly. It read "TSMS Gold Buyers."
Inside, there were a few plastic chairs and a glass-covered counter with various pieces of jewelry on display.
Behind it sat a man in his late sixties—slightly overweight, with short, thinning hair.
He glanced at them once over the top of his monocle, then pushed himself up from his chair.
"Welcome," he said.. "How may I help you?"
"Hello, honored merchant," Karan said, stepping forward. "I'd like to sell my pauldron. It's gold."
The man first glanced over Karan's armor. "May I?" he asked, reaching out his hand.
Karan removed one of his pauldrons and handed it to him.
The man examined the pauldron carefully before asking, "How old is this?"
"I'm not sure, but it's at least a thousand years old," Karan replied.
"The engravings? Who made them?"
"It is an early work of a great craftsman, Taluna."
"You're only thinking of selling one pauldron?" the man asked.
"Just one," Karan replied.
The man sighed. "ID, please."
"I don't have one," Karan answered.
The man smirked. His expression was as if this was exactly what he'd been hoping to hear.
"I'll have a second pair of eyes take a look," he said, then stepped into the back room with his phone.
Chiaya turned to Karan. "Are you sure you want to sell it? They look really beautiful, and clearly, they mean something to you. Are you sure you don't have any money somewhere? Maybe I could lend you some, and you could pay me back later."
"I'm grateful," Karan said, "but there's no need. I will sell it. If Farandal the Great Sage knew my purpose, he would want me to."
Chiaya nodded. There was no point in insisting further.
When the shop owner returned, he asked them to sit and wait.
Ten minutes later, a tall, middle-aged man in a suit came in carrying a large metal case. He took Karan's pauldron and stepped into the back.
They were probably assessing the piece's value, Chiaya thought. The case must have had equipment for analyzing the gold's age and authenticity.
A short while later, they returned, and the shopkeeper spoke.
"Look, young man. If what you say is true—if all the pieces are that old and real gold—the smartest thing to do would be to sell them at auction. But you say you don't have ID.
I'll help you sell them, but only if you agree to sell them as a full set and accept my commission. I'll take 10%, and the auction house will take another 20%. Also, you'll need to leave the items with us so we can have them fully evaluated."
The man in the suit stood leaning against the wall, arms crossed. He said nothing—he simply watched.
Something about this place made Chiaya uneasy.
"I'll only sell the pair of pauldrons," Karan said. "I don't mind leaving them, but I need some of the money now."
The man nodded. Karan's tone was sharp and certain.
As a seller with decades of experience, he could tell at a glance who could be talked into something—and who couldn't. And someone who looked at him like that? Trying to persuade him would only be a waste of time.
The man stepped back into the room and returned with an envelope in his hand.
"There's seven thousand dollars in this envelope. I'll deduct it from the final sale price. You can count it if you'd like."
"No need," Karan said.
Even if he tried, he couldn't read the numbers yet. The man pulled out a form and scribbled something on it before handing the paper and pen to Karan.
"Sign here," he said.
As Karan examined the pen in his hand, Chiaya began reading what was written on the contract.
At the top, it said TSMS Agreement.
The terms matched what the man had described. The numbers were handwritten.
It stated that if the seller backed out or failed to show up for the auction, the ownership of the item would automatically transfer to the auction house.
What kind of agreement was this?!
But neither Chiaya nor Karan was in a position to question the terms.
After all, they were conducting an illegal sale.
There was no address, no phone number, no company name printed anywhere on the page—
only a faint embossed seal at the bottom.
Though Chiaya couldn't make out all the shapes clearly, it was obvious the design featured a manor house.
He had figured out how the pen worked, but he still didn't know what "sign" meant. Chiaya stepped in to save him. "Just write your name here," she said.
Karan wrote something long. It was in the same alphabet as the handwritten book Chiaya had found while rummaging through his sack.
The man examined the writing but didn't care. He had clearly seen far stranger signatures before.
As they walked toward the car, Karan held out the envelope to Chiaya.
"Here, take this. I don't know how much it's worth, but if it's not enough, I'll bring more later."