A Hutrall Gold Coin, the Price of the Real Thing

"Teacher."

"I recall you saying our shopping time wasn't exactly generous, right?"

"Nagging."

Feeling the surge of her disciple's mana behind her, Serie, crouched in front of the stall, turned her head to reply.

That said, Serie was well aware that her own treasure-appraisal time was nearing its end.

To make a final decision, she simply waved at her disciple behind her, signaling Guter to come closer.

"Aren't you quite knowledgeable about this antique business? Come take a look with me."

"Sure."

Guter drawled his reply, crouching down beside Serie. There was a hint of helplessness in his tone, along with a touch of... indulgence?

Oh well, since his "Shang Zhou Old Timer" had a hobby of sifting through last week's antiques like panning for gold in shit, he, as her disciple, might as well support it. At worst, their journey would be delayed by a day.

Taking from his teacher's hands a few trinkets she herself couldn't quite verify as genuine or fake, Guter held them up and silently examined them.

As expected, he couldn't make heads or tails of them.

After all, his entire knowledge of antiques was limited to the category of vessels, and even that was just leftover memory from copying texts at the monastery.

And in the antique appraisal trade, there was no such thing as learning by analogy.

Different categories and eras of antiques each had their own distinct traits and nuances. They weren't entirely unrelated, but it wasn't much better than the gap between different professions.

For these trinkets that even Serie couldn't judge, if Guter really had to offer an opinion, he could only rely on the Talent Trait Innate Tomb Raider Saint Body to make some assessment.

That was: none of these trinkets seemed like recently unearthed goods.

Guter glanced again at the stall owner—shifty-eyed and slovenly in appearance. Even if he were from a fallen family, he shouldn't carry himself like this.

At that point, Guter had already formed a judgment on the authenticity of these antiques.

Gently placing all the trinkets back in their original spots, Guter dusted off his hands and prepared to persuade his teacher to leave.

The chance of finding a genuine item at a stall like this was nearly zero.

The "antiques" on the boss's stall were probably bought by the pound from the previous seller.

But just as Guter noticed the glimmer of expectation in Serie's eyes as she looked at him, he paused in his attempt to dissuade her.

The memory surfaced of Serie's disappointed face last time, when she learned she'd been wrong.

Mm.

Oh well, whether real or fake, he'd just buy these "antiques." Consider it buying a toy for the "old child at home."

Guter patted Serie's shoulder twice and turned to the stall owner with a rather resigned expression.

With a face full of disdain, he pointed at the few trinkets Serie had taken a liking to and spoke.

"Pack all of these up. Name your price."

Hearing the customer's words, the stall owner's face lit up with joy.

He glanced briefly at the worthless trinkets and opened his mouth to quote an exorbitant price.

But this customer seemed quite knowledgeable—his movements and demeanor suggested he'd noticed something.

Though unclear why he still wanted to buy these fakes, the owner hesitated when quoting the price, scaling it down from a jaw-dropping sky-high price to a more modest sky-high one.

"Ten coins. Oh, no, one gold coin?"

Guter's eye twitched. "You really dare to ask for that!"

The owner's heart fluttered with a bit of panic. But wasn't this the normal process? Especially in the street-stall antique trade, buyer and seller were supposed to haggle back and forth over the price, right?

Could this be some clueless greenhorn?

The stall owner, who hadn't made a sale in ages, feared losing this customer. Gritting his teeth, he spoke up.

"Customer, I can see you're genuinely interested. I won't play games with you—just give me five silver coins."

"Deal!!!"

Before the owner could finish, Guter handed him a Hutrall Gold Coin. This move stunned the boss, leaving him feeling insecure.

Could there actually be a real antique among these trinkets?

No way—everything on his stall was bought by the pound from upstream merchants. They wouldn't even spare a box for him. How could there be anything genuine?

But if there weren't, why would this young man...

His mind churning with these thoughts, the stall owner mechanically packed up the "antiques" and handed them to Guter.

With a complicated expression, he watched the two customers walk away, then slumped to the ground.

Clearly, he'd made a killing on this deal. So why did he feel like he couldn't muster any joy?

"These antiques are all problematic, aren't they?"

On the road, Serie looked at the bag of wrapped-up "antiques" and asked Guter beside her.

"What makes you think that, Teacher?"

"When we left, that shopkeeper's face didn't show a single bit of the joy that comes from making money," Guter replied with a laugh.

"Heh."

"That expression on his face—wasn't it because he was shocked by your foolish behavior?"

Serie mercilessly exposed the truth. "Besides, the way he dropped the price was far too straightforward. That state of mind clearly showed he wasn't confident in the price he was selling at, or rather, he had a distinct awareness of the item's true value."

"In a situation like that, it couldn't be genuine."

"So, why?"

Serie walked up and stopped in front of Guter, blocking her disciple's path forward, and asked seriously.

"Why buy something you know is fake, and even actively refuse the shopkeeper's discount, purchasing it at an inflated price that isn't worth it at all?"

"Answer me."

"Because."

Guter lowered his head slightly. "One Hutrall Gold Coin is the price of a genuine item."

"If it had been settled for five silver coins, then it would have been a fake."

"I wanted Teacher to buy the real thing. Because I don't want to see the look of disappointment on your face when you misjudge again."

The disciple's words left Serie silent. She stood frozen in place for a moment before her expression returned to normal.

"So that's your reason?"

"How utterly boring."

Serie replied in a flat tone. "I thought you might be a somewhat cleverer disciple."

"Forget it. Come with me to buy supplies. There's not much left on the list; we should be able to get everything before dark."

"Alright."

Guter responded with a hint of regret, silently following behind his teacher.

"Is it that elves are really that emotionally dull, or is my behavior just that damn stupid?"

Walking behind, Guter's expression was somewhat bitter. Just as he thought he had messed up, he accidentally caught sight of his teacher's small gesture.

Serie, who had originally been casually carrying the bag containing the "antique" in one hand, after hearing her disciple's explanation, silently hugged it properly with both arms against her chest.

Even her pace had become noticeably lighter.

"Honestly, Teacher."

The bitterness on his face instantly faded, and a smile reappeared on Guter's face.

"If you're moved, just say it to your disciple. Is it really that hard?"