[DING!]
[+45 EXP | +8 Progression Points]
[Reason: Confronting moneylenders openly, delaying debt execution.]
Lucas was still standing there, breathing hard, The Great Hoe buried in the floor.
The two moneylenders had turned pale, though their mouths stayed sharp.
"Cheating! This is cheap magic trick!!!" one of them yelled.
"If you're truly strong, lift it again yourself, Young Master!" mocked the other, lips curled in scorn.
Baron Voss stiffened in his chair. The Baroness clutched the fabric of her gown against her chest.
Silvara had already drawn her sword halfway, as if ready for the next commotion.
Lucas only lowered his head slightly, lips quirking in the faintest smile.
"Already this frightened?" he said flatly.
He stepped forward.
Fingers brushed the end of The Great Hoe's handle.
With what looked like the most casual motion—just a small twist of his wrist—click. The crushing weight dissipated, leaving it no heavier than a farmer's hoe.
With ease, Lucas lifted it. No trembling, no bulging veins. One hand was enough, just like fapping.
"Like this?" He swung it lightly, as if it were a toy. "You all nearly died over this?"
The moneylenders' faces flushed crimson, shame and fury swallowing their words.
Lucas kept twirling The Great Hoe with a faint grin.
Sweat rolled down the moneylenders' temples, but still they refused to back off.
One of them suddenly lunged toward the table, snatching the signed parchment.
"Then this contract is void! Worthless!" he shouted.
Baron Voss shot to his feet, chair scraping loud against the marble floor. His face was tense, but his voice steady,
"A vow remains a vow. Written by your own hand, signed by your own name. Nothing may annul it."
"Nonsense!" barked the other lender. "Without royal witnesses, without the kingdom's seal, this means nothing! We can lodge a protest in the city whenever we please!"
Silvara, who had stood silently beside Lucas until now, stepped forward. Her voice was flat, cold as most favorited tsundere waifus.
"Invalid? Are you blind to the law? Have you forgotten Article Ninety-Nine of Noble Statutes?"
Both men froze, color draining from their faces. Silvara's silver eyes gleamed sharply as she pressed on.
"A pact signed by both parties—before the witness of a noble—cannot be broken. And any who dares violate it…" her tone dropped, blade-sharp, "…loses a hand on the spot."
Lucas swallowed hard, hairs rising on the back of his neck. Shit… she's not joking. If they keep running their mouths, hands are about to start flying.
The Baroness covered her lips, caught between fear and relief.
The Baron himself said nothing, but his eyes made it clear, he would not stop Silvara if the blade fell.
The lenders glanced at each other, their faces white as burial cloth. Fingers that had dared touch the parchment now trembled uncontrollably.
At last, one hissed through clenched teeth, "Very well! We withdraw for now. But remember… postponed does not mean forgiven. Interest remains interest."
With dusty cloaks, they stormed out. The heavy door slammed shut, marking the end of the standoff.
Lucas finally let out a long breath. His shoulders sagged, though The Great Hoe still felt cold in his grip.
"I'm… gonna go bathe," he muttered, half wanting to flee the suffocating atmosphere.
The Baroness hurried forward. Her hand shook as she held out a small leather pouch.
"Lucian… this is for today. Please don't demand anything strange again."
Lucas almost refused. I'm not Lucas. I'm playing Lucian. I can't deny.
So he snatched the pouch with a scowl. "Hmph. Fine." Then he turned and left without another glance.
The Baroness lingered on her son's back for a long time. Something stirred in her chest—different than usual. He… had changed somehow.
Silvara, still cold at his side, only remarked flatly: "I respect your little game just now."
-----
The noble bathhouse was vast, marble floors gleaming, steam rising from a great basin freshly heated by servants.
Lucas stood at the entrance, two hoes in hand. The plain one was set aside in the corner. The Great Hoe he still carried, weighty even though he'd already tuned it to normal.
"The problem is…" He cratched his head. "Am I really about to drag this every time? Or put it on the towel rack? That's dumb as hell." He sighed.
"What if someday I pick a wrong hoe and my Great Hoe fall into someone else's hands?" He frowned.
[DING!]
A panel popped up, grinning emoji plastered on it.
(¬▽¬) [Oh come on, Host… that's all the imagination you've got?]
[It's called The Great Hoe. A high-grade tool can obviously be summoned or dismissed anytime. Summon and dismiss, Host.]
Lucas stared at the panel, deadpan. "So you're telling me… I've been hauling this thing around for no reason, when I could've just poofed it away?"
(＾▽＾)／ [Correct. Welcome to fantasy, Host. Please adapt faster.]
Lucas let out a long sigh, focused—and The Great Hoe shimmered purple before vanishing from his hand.
"…Finally." He looked at his empty palm, then sank into the hot water. "Damn, would've been nice if this tutorial showed up earlier, but maybe I wouldn't have had the idea for that foolish game before."
The panel flickered again, this time with a smug, zipped-mouth face.
(≖‿≖) [Free tutorials are over, Host. From here on, pay with your own brain.]
Lucas buried his face in his hands. "I should start calling you My Mocking System."