Trish was blissfully eating a slice of her cake, swinging her legs lightly as she sat on the arm of a dusty chair. Her eyes sparkled with childlike joy, completely oblivious to the Cold War brewing just a few steps away.
In front of her, Isaac and the Trader sat in complete silence.
Five minutes passed. Not a word.
Not a blink.
Just two men staring into each other's souls like a pair of cats pretending they weren't about to claw each other.
The tension was so thick, you could frost a cake with it.
Eventually, the Trader sighed, raising both hands with a forced smile.
"Oh dear customer... really, there's no way I'd send anyone to hurt you," he said, his voice laced with exaggerated innocence. "So could you stop with that death glare? My poor heart is fragile."
Isaac blinked slowly, then reached into his storage ring and pulled out a small leather pouch. He tossed it onto the Trader's desk. It landed with a thud.
"This is the herb," Isaac said, voice dry. "Just use the roots. They absorb mana, but the flower part? Poison. So unless you're trying to experience spontaneous internal combustion, avoid the petals."
The Trader raised a brow, suspicious. "You're just giving this to me?"
Isaac leaned back, lacing his fingers behind his head with a smirk.
"Oh, what can I say? I'm generous. And besides, watching you suffer through mana poisoning was getting repetitive. I'm doing it for entertainment value."
The Trader coughed awkwardly, clearly caught off guard. He stared at the pouch like it might explode.
"I... I appreciate it, Mister VIP. Really. Now... what do you want in return?"
Isaac stood up, the misty red chair vanishing beneath him with a soft hiss.
"First, a fake Hunter ID."
"Second, one of those little counseling artifacts Trish uses. Preferably not one in hot pink."
The Trader blinked, startled. "A fake ID?"
Then it clicked.
The dungeon.
The timing.
Why Isaac insisted on dragging Trish along.
And the rumors... of a strange organization poking around the Academy.
The Trader's eye twitched. He leaned back and started laughing.
"Hehehe... Oh, I see. You're planning something, aren't you? Something big."
He pointed a finger at Isaac, still chuckling. "You're one manipulative little gremlin."
"Takes one to know one," Isaac replied, rolling his eyes.
The Trader rubbed his chin. "I can help with the artifact. The ID will be delivered tomorrow. I'll make sure Trish hands it to you herself."
He gave Trish a signal, and she hopped over with the grace of someone still on a sugar high.
"Here," she said, handing Isaac a small, sleek earring with a gentle smile. "It's already linked to your mana signature."
Isaac nodded, starting to walk toward the door when the Trader's voice cut in again.
"Not so fast."
"We haven't discussed the price."
Isaac paused, his back still to the room. Then he slowly turned around with a grin so sarcastic it could cut glass.
"Oh, I think we have."
He held up one finger. "One: I'm letting your little Snake Fang experiment slide."
Second finger. "Two: you learned something for free, and you laughed like a lunatic. Clearly, it's good information."
He leaned in slightly. "You got a steal, old man."
And with that, he waved lazily, opened the door, and walked out.
The Trader stood frozen, jaw slightly open.
"Serves you right, you crazy old man," Isaac muttered as he appeared in front of his apartment.
"Next time I'm charging interest."