Chapter 197: The Price of History

Date: January 3, 2018 | Time: 11:23 AM

Location: Ami & Bibi’s Inn, Sylvaris

Perspective: Kaiser Everhart

Wonderful nap that was~

I didn’t have to look up to know they were back. The rhythmic clack-clack of Bibi’s boots and the softer, more calculated padding of Ami’s footsteps were as distinct to me as a signature.

Bibi was practically buried under a mountain of crinkling bags, her black cat ears twitching, while Ami trailed behind, clutching a stack of wooden boards like they were sacred scrolls.

“Master, if I ever say I want to go shopping for fun again, please just throw me in the crater,” Bibi huffed, dumping the haul onto the table with a heavy thud that made my water cup jump.

She started pulling items out with the practiced speed of a dealer showing a winning hand.

“12 items, exactly as you… well, mostly as you asked,” she said, wiping a smudge of grease from her cheek. She began lining them up with a flourish.

“1: A spool of Aether-spun Copper Wire.

2: Three Mana Regulators.

3: A set of Obsidian-Glass Refraction Lenses.

4: This weird Pressure-Plate Mana Sink.

5: Two dozen High-Density Vellum Notebooks for your ’grand plans.’

6: Crystal-Ink Dip Pens.

7: Parabolic Curve Templates—don’t ask how much I had to haggle for those.

8: The ’Market-Pulse’ Ledger.

9: Probability Pith-Boards for your graphing.

10: Flux-Capacitance Measuring Rods.

11: A set of Weighted Prediction Dice… though I think the merchant was a scammer.”

She paused, her tail flicking nervously.

“And… okay, look. We forgot the mechanical calculator. The shopkeeper said they were out of stock and the next shipment from the Dwarven Union is a few days away. But!” She reached into the last bag and pulled out a heavy, polished steel case.

“I figured if you’re going to be building stuff and doing ’business,’ you’d need a Master-Grade Arc-Wrench Toolbox. It’s got adjustable torque-drivers and everything. I bought it on my own initiative.”

I looked at the toolbox, then at Bibi’s expectant, slightly worried expression. A calculator was just a shortcut for a mind like theirs, but a good set of tools?

Makes my work easier.

“Excellent call, Bibi,” I said, letting a smirk tug at the corner of my mouth. “A calculator just does the math. These tools will help me build. You’re learning.”

Bibi beamed, her chest puffing out. “Heh. See? Executive Assistant of the Year.”

Ami, meanwhile, remained silent, stepping forward to carefully lay out the delicate boards and circuits she’d gathered. Her silver eyes were fixed on the table, her thin tail twitching in a rapid, staccato rhythm.

“The… the circuits are standard Asura-grade Logic Gates, Master,” Ami whispered, her voice barely audible over the market’s din. “But… there was one more thing.”

She reached into a small pouch at her hip. Her hand hesitated at the opening, her fingers trembling slightly. She looked at me, a flash of genuine fear—or maybe guilt—crossing her reflective eyes.

“I… I hope you won’t be mad that I made this decision,” she said, her words coming out in a rush.

“It was a damaged part in the scrap bin. The shopkeeper said it was a piece of junk. Unrepairable. He laughed when I asked for it. I thought… I felt like you might like it. That it might be useful, even if only for parts. I’m sorry if I wasted the coin.”

She pulled it out and set it on the table.

My heart didn’t just skip a beat; it almost stopped.

It was a jagged, blackened slab of metal and crystal, caked in dried brine and ancient silt. To anyone else, it looked like a charred brick of slag. But to me, even through the corrosion, I could see the underlying geometry. The recursive mana-paths. The soul-binding nodes.

My hands shook as I reached out, my fingers brushing the cold, dead surface.

How? This circuit… I lost it years ago in the depths of the Celestial Seashores. It should be at the bottom of the world, crushed by the pressure of the abyss.

“Where did you find this, Ami?” I asked, my voice sounding distant, even to my own ears. I kept my face a mask of casual curiosity.

“The… the junk shop near the harbor,” she said, blinking. “He said a fisherman found it in his nets months ago. He called it ’dead scrap.’ Why? Is it… is it really just junk?”

Scrapped? Junk? Unrepairable?

I looked at the board, seeing past the grime to the terrifying elegance beneath.

This was a piece of the Death of History—the central core of the weapon I had designed for the Asura Empire. A weapon that didn’t just kill; it annihilated. It was a relic of the Great War, a catalyst of slaughter that had cost the lives of thousands and turned the tide against the Avatars.

It was my greatest achievement, and my most beautiful sin.

Who are they to decide its worth?

“No, Ami,” I said, finally looking up at her. I forced my hands to steady and gave her a genuine, albeit sharp, smile.

“This is exactly what I needed. You have a better eye for value than any merchant in this district.”

“Thank you.”

Ami’s ears perked up, a faint flush of silver-tinted relief crossing her cheeks.

“I… I’m glad, Master.”

“Alright, enough sentiment,” I said, clapping my hands together, the cold weight of the circuit now a grounding presence in my mind.

The circuit board was back.

“Bibi, you’ve got a new dress from yesterday, remember? Go put it on, but wear the hood. I want you to snoop around the taverns in the Entertainment District. Don’t be a participant—be a ghost.”

“I need intel. Hear everything, and bring me a list of every major business currently operating in the Market District. Who’s winning, who’s desperate, and who’s bribing whom.”

Bibi grinned, already grabbing her bags. “Spying? I’m on it.”

I turned to Ami.

“Ami, I need those vellum notebooks prepped. We’re going to build diagrams—flowcharts of every business Bibi identifies. We’re going to measure their current trajectories and predict their profit-and-loss margins before the month is out.”

“We aren’t just joining the market; we’re going to predict it.”

“Understood, Master,” Ami said, her analytical mind already clicking into gear.

They both hurried off, energized by the sudden shift in my momentum.

I sat back down on the chair, the bustling market fading into the background as I stared at the blackened circuit board.

The air tasted like ozone again.

“Welcome back, old friend,” I whispered, my fingers tracing the jagged edge of the metal.

Let’s see if this world is ready for your return.

Time: 7:12 PM

Location: Rented Room, Market District – Sylvaris

Perspective: Kaiser Everhart

The candlelight flickered against the parchment, casting long, dancing shadows of my hand as I sketched.

Across the small, cramped table, Ami was hunched over, her silver eyes reflecting the glow of the mana-lamp. She was working on the miniature models for our projected district layouts, her movements so precise they bordered on mechanical. Every tiny pillar and walkway had to be perfect.

I turned the page of my own notebook, moving away from business logistics and into the real project.

The object Ami had found—the “broken” circuit board—sat wrapped in a silk cloth at the corner of the table.

To anyone else, it was a paperweight with internal water damage. To me? It was the engine.

I began sketching the internal housing, a series of complex, interlocking gears and mana-conducting filaments that didn’t exist in this era yet.

If I can bridge the feedback loop between the KE core’s harmonic resonance and the external output nozzle… I scribbled a note about ’Kinetic Dampening.’ The weapon wasn’t just about power; it was all at once.

A weapon that doesn’t just hit you, but heals its user.

Patience, Kaiser.

The door creaked open, and Ami suddenly straightened, her thin black tail giving a weary twitch. She looked like she’d been through a lot. Her hair was messy, and her shoulders were slumped in a way that suggested her “stamina” was flashing red.

Without a word, she shuffled to the pitcher, poured a glass of water, and downed it in three aggressive gulps. Then, with a long, theatrical sigh, she face-planted onto the nearby bed.

“Too… much… work,” she muffled into the pillow.

“Math… too much… triangles. Brain is… overheating.”

“Only math?” I teased, not looking up from my blueprint.

“I expected at least economics from my Senior Executive Assistant.”

“Master… is a… tyrant,” she groaned, rolling onto her back. She stayed there for a few minutes, staring blankly at the ceiling, her chest rising and falling in a slow rhythm until her breathing finally evened out.

After a while, the “dead” cat-girl resurrected. She sat up, rubbed her eyes, and reached for her own leather-bound notebook—the one dedicated to ’Intelligence Gathering.’ Or, as Bibi called it, ’The Tea.’

“Rest period concluded,” Ami announced, her voice returning to its soft, analytical tone.

Right on cue, the door burst open. Bibi practically vibrated into the room, her black ears perked so high they were almost touching.

“You guys will not believe the day I’ve had!” she chirped, hopping onto the end of Ami’s bed.

I closed my notebook with a satisfying thud, leaning back and crossing my arms.

“Alright, Bibi. Give me the report. What’s the word on the street? How are our prime players doing?”

Bibi took a deep breath, looking like she was about to explode with information. Ami opened her pen, ready to transcribe.

“Okay, so! First off,” Bibi started, her tail swaying excitedly,

“The Alchemist’s Sip is in total chaos. The head bartender’s wife ran away with the new barback! Everyone’s talking about it because the bartender got so depressed he accidentally mixed a ’Dragon-Breath’ shot for a guy. Poor guy’s beard is still on fire.”

I snorted. “Classic. She downgraded herself. And a side-tender? Bro really got replaced by the help.”

Ami shrugged, her pen scratching away. “That’s really weird.”

“Right? But check this,” Bibi leaned in, lowering her voice.

“I was hanging around the Succubus Service entrance—stealthily, obviously—and I heard two guys arguing. Apparently, one of them spent three months’ worth of his family’s ’Safety Tax’ on ’Personal-Intimacy’ sessions. He wanted to hide the scent with a cheap perfume from his wife! The succubi were laughing all the way hearing em!”

“They’re basically providing ’pleasure’ for essence,” I noted.

“It’s a perfect loop. Succubus gets their food, business takes the gold.”

“And the Crucible!” Bibi’s eyes went wide.

“There was a huge fight today. Not in the ring, but in the betting stands! Some adventurer tried to bet his left boot

because he lost his gold on a ’non-lethal’ apprentice match. The house kicked him out, and he had to hop all the way to the Beast-Riding Tracks.”

“Wait, why the tracks?” I asked.

“Because,” Bibi giggled, “He tried to ’borrow’ a raptor to chase the guy who won his money! But get this—the raptor was ’flight-clipped’ for a kid’s birthday party. He didn’t even make it out of the gate before the raptor decided to eat his other boot. The insurance waiver didn’t cover ’stupidity-related losses.’”

“I love this city,” I muttered, a genuine smirk tugging at my lips.

“What about other businesses? Any slips in the glamour?”

“Mirror-Me Boutique!” Bibi cackled.

“The best one! A merchant went in wanting to look like a hero to impress a girl at the Gilded Petal. But the ’Disposable Anchor’ ring glitched. Midway through his dinner, his face didn’t just change back—it merged! He ended up with his own nose and the hero’s chin. The girl thought he was a shapeshifting demon and stabbed him with a dessert fork.”

Ami paused her writing. “That’s too sad, how can one be so ugly to fake it?”

“That boutique is getting sloppy. Or… someone is tampering with the products.”

“Good catch, Ami,” I said, my mind already spinning with ways to exploit that.

“Oh! And the Echo Lounge,” Bibi continued, counting off on her fingers.

“The new ’Glow-Liquor’ batch is too strong. I saw a guy come out, and his teeth were literally neon blue. He was trying to whistle, and it looked like he was shooting tiny lazers out of his mouth.”

“Everyone at the Dreamscape Theater next door thought it was part of the intermission illusion and started throwing coins at him.”

“Free marketing,” I said. “Though blue teeth might hurt the Gilded Petal’s high-end aesthetic. Anything else?”

“Just some random stuff,” Bibi shrugged.

“The baker’s cat got stuck in a chimney and now it’s a ’Smoke-Elemental,’ or so he claims to raise the price. And apparently, the Captain of the Guard’s secret hobby is knitting sweaters for his wife. I saw a pug in a pink wool vest earlier. It looked… miserable.”

“Mostly useless gossip…” I laughed, shaking my head.

“Excellent work, Bibi. You’ve got us some names of the businesses.”

I looked at the notes Ami had compiled. The 8 businesses were the pillars of Sylvaris’s economy, but they were also full of cracks.

“Keep your ears open,” I said, my voice turning a bit more serious as I glanced back at the wrapped circuit.

“The information you’re gathering isn’t just gossip. It’s leverage. And soon, we’re going to pull every single string.”

Bibi grinned, her tail giving one last, proud thump. “You got it, Master! Er—I mean, Boss!”

“Executive Assistant,” I corrected, though I didn’t hide the smile this time. “Now, Ami, let’s look at those charts again.”

Time: 10:45 PM

“Alright, eyes up,” I said, tapping the paper with the end of my fountain pen. “We’ve been at this for hours, but this list? This is the board. These are the pieces.”

I had written the names of the eight targets in bold, black ink:

The Succubus Service

The Crucible

Lucid Dream Dens

Bathhouses

The Gilded Stage

The Echo Lounge

Beast-Riding Tracks

The Mirror-Me Boutique

“I filtered out the underperforming businesses,” I explained, looking at my two exhausted but attentive assistants.

“These are the lungs of the Entertainment District. They breathe in gold and exhale influence. And we… we are going to be the asthma attack they didn’t see coming.”

Ami blinked, her tail giving a slow, thoughtful twitch.

Bibi just grinned, looking ready to cause problems on purpose.

“Let’s start with the highest-performing asset,” I said, circling The Succubus Service.

“To dismantle or control a business, you don’t look at what they sell. You look at their First Principles.”

I turned to them, adopting my best ’Professor’ stance.

“Simple definition: You break the business down to its atomic truths. You ignore the label. People think this place sells ’companionship.’ Wrong. The atomic unit here is the Physical Intimac—”

I paused, looking at their young, innocent faces. Ami was hugging a pillow. Bibi was swinging her legs off the bed.

…Wait a minute.

Hold on, Kaiser. You are explaining the intricate economics of a literal brothel to a 14and 15-year-old. You are the adult here. Don’t make this weird. Keep it PG.

“So,” I cleared my throat, sweating internally. “Basically… the Succubi and Incubi act as… companions. For lonely people. Very lonely adventurers who just want a… hug. Or a high-five.”

Bibi raised an eyebrow. Ami tilted her head.

“And their food source,” I continued, speaking a little faster,

“is… uh… happy energy. Positive vibes. So, the business model is brilliant! The adventurers pay to enter, but they also provide the ’food’ for the staff just by being there. The owner pays almost zero in overhead costs because the staff is fed by the clients. It’s a perfect symbiotic loop of… friendship.”

I finished with a confident nod, hoping they bought it.

There was a silence. A long, heavy silence.

Then, Bibi snorted.

“Master,” she giggled, covering her mouth. “You’re trying so hard. It’s adorable.”

“We know what they do,” Ami murmured, adjusting her glasses—wait, she doesn’t wear glasses, she was adjusting her bangs.

“Mom… our mother… she was an ecologist. She explained the biological dietary requirements of demonic species.”

“They don’t eat ’happy vibes,’” Bibi teased, leaning forward with a wicked grin. “They feed on vitality. Life essence. And they definitely don’t get it from ’high-fives’ at night.”

“It involves the transfer of bodily fluids and mana through close physical contact,” Ami added, her voice completely flat and scientific.

“Logically, it is the most efficient way to transfer energy, though statistically, it carries high risks of emotional attachment during the nightly activities.”

I stood there, pen hovering in mid-air.

Well. So much for preserving their innocence.

At least they’re overcoming their trauma enough to roast me.

“Okay, fine,” I sighed, rubbing my temples as they both giggled.

“You two are too smart for your own good. Yes, they feed on life essence. Yes, it’s a dirty business. And yes, that makes it incredibly profitable. Moving on.”

I quickly went through the First Principles of the other seven businesses, explaining the Crucible’s reliance on “Risk Dopamine” rather than actual fighting, and the Mirror-Me Boutique’s exploitation of “Insecurity” rather than beauty.

I kept it fast, not wanting to get stuck in another moral debate with two teenagers who knew too much about biology.

“And that,” I said, capping the pen with a final click, “is the landscape.”

I looked at the window. The moon was high now.

“It’s getting late. Your brains are going to turn to mush if we keep going.”

I started packing my things, winding the scarf Eve gave me, around my neck.

Free real estate.

“Tomorrow, the real work starts. Ami, I need you to create a spreadsheet for the projected profit margins based on the foot traffic Bibi saw today. Bibi, tomorrow you go back out. I need a price list. Every menu item, every entrance fee, every bribe cost.”

I picked up my notebook—the one with the weapon designs—and tucked it under my arm.

“Wait, you’re leaving?” Bibi asked, her ears drooping slightly.

Ami looked up from her pillow, her silver eyes wide.

“But… we haven’t had dinner together. I… I can still work and wait…”

“No working,” I commanded gently.

“You wait for the innkeeper to bring up the late-night stew I ordered for you. Eat. Sleep. That’s an order.”

I walked to the door, but before I opened it, I turned back. They looked like two abandoned kittens in a box.

Damn it.

I sighed, walked back over, and patted Bibi on the head. She leaned into it instantly, a happy purr vibrating in her chest. Then I turned to Ami. She stiffened for a second, then looked down, her tail giving a shy, happy flick as I ruffled her hair.

“You two did amazing work today,” I said softly. “I mean it. Most adults couldn’t handle the work you crunched in six hours.”

Ami’s face flushed red, and she hid the lower half of her face in the pillow, but I could see her eyes crinkling in a smile.

“I’ll be back early morning,” I promised. “Get some rest.”

The night air outside was crisp, carrying the scent of sea salt and distant chimney smoke. The streets were quieter now.

I walked with my hands in my pockets, looking up at the stars. My fingers brushed the cover of the notebook under my arm.

Inside lay the schematic for the Death of History.

“The rebuilding begins soon,” I whispered to the empty street.

I thought back to the original model. The Asura Empire had poured nearly 10,000 gold into the first prototype. It required rare metals, unstable cores, and the lives of a dozen mages just to stabilize the output. It was a sledgehammer of a weapon—clunky, expensive, and devastating.

But I wasn’t that person anymore.

“I can do it for 100 gold,” I mused, a cold smile touching my lips.

“Maybe 110 if I want to add a safety switch.”

The circuit board Ami found… the new First Principles I understood… I could strip away the excess. I could make it leaner. Meaner.

I turned the corner toward my own inn, the moonlight reflecting in my eyes.

“I’m not the same as I was back in the war,” I said, the shadow of the Devil stretching long behind me on the cobblestones.

“This time, winning is the only thing that matters.”

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