“That true?”

  “Of course it’s true!” the broker answered, full of earnest confidence.

  “No,” Pandora shook her head, her tone leaving no room. “Words aren’t proof. I need to see the actual thing.”

  “Fair. Already thought of that for you.”

  The broker pulled a thick stack of papers bound in leather from inside his coat.

  “But, given what the item is, the other side won’t hand a Wizard’s tome to any third party. They also won’t let you check it yourself before the deal is truly done.”

  “Instead, as a fair option, the other side submitted the trade item to the ‘Academy’ for an official stamp.”

  He handed the papers over, serious.

  “Here’s the official Academy appraisal.”

  Taking the documents, Pandora led the blond broker to a quieter lounge in the Quarry. They sat, and she looked them over carefully.

  The file was thick, bound like a pro job. The cover had a seal she didn’t see often—a thorn-and-gear mark for a Corpse Hall’s authority.

  She ran a finger over it; the seal’s texture was raised, not just printed.

  She opened to the first page.

  It had not just the Academy’s clear official stamp, but also a special verification mark… shaped like a Palmfiend.

  Pandora checked it with her own Palmfiend and gave the mark a light poke with her Wizard’s spirit. Its inside structure matched the special verification marks she knew.

  Both checks came back real. This was the result of the other side burning a solid pile of “Contribution Points” on Academy authentication.

  This wasn’t actually common.

  The Academy’s official stamp was the law, but the price was seriously steep.

  In a mixed-up place like Eden, few went this route to lock down a deal.

  More often, it was like the broker said: “Give it to a trusted middleman, or let the buyer check for themselves.”

  If you couldn’t tell if what you were buying was real, that was your problem—a logic most apprentices in the Ruined City lived by.

  You only used the Academy’s “fancy but solid” authentication when you couldn’t check it yourself, or when the price was so high you needed zero doubt.

  But, for a Wizard’s tome that might hold a high-tier meditation method… the move made some sense.

  “The appraisal, I’ve seen it.”

  Pandora closed the thick stack and put it on the table with a soft thump.

  “The item in the report matches the description. But, when we actually trade, I’ll still check it on the spot. A real appraisal doesn’t mean the thing they hand me later is real.”

  The broker nodded right away, no hesitation.

  “Of course, that’s your right. So… this item should work for you, yes? Maybe… we can talk price?”

  “Sure.” Pandora didn’t pause. “What do they want?”

  If they could really produce the fifth-rank method she wanted, the price could be worked out.

  Truth was, unless the ask was crazy, even 20-30% over normal market would be fine.

  Simple reason:

  With her Potioneering skill right now and the huge potion market hunger, she wasn’t short on coin.

  For her, them asking for more just meant she’d brew potions a little longer—and the actual time and resources she spent were way lower than anyone guessed.

  That was the System’s edge, a near cheat against normal, self-taught potion apprentices.

  She didn’t need to sweat this point.

  Heck, the Money God was on her side!

  But when the broker actually said the demand, she still frowned.

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  “What? A bet?”

  “Right,” the broker’s face lit up with a merchant’s brand of eager, slick smile. “The other side’s condition is to… gamble with you.”

  “The pot is this Wizard’s tome and its full market price.”

  “You win, you get it free. You lose, you pay full price.”

  Seeing Pandora’s doubt, he added fast:

  “Of course, I say this is pure good news for you. You can keep betting till you get what you want—a 100% shot at your goal! I promise, any gambler would love this!”

  The broker laughed, earnest but over the top, like a clumsy salesman who believed his own pitch.

  Pandora wasn’t buying his rough talk at all.

  Her brow stayed tight, her lip curling in clear annoyance.

  “Seems the other side’s a veteran gambler, and… a greedy one. Trying to milk payment after payment from me? Dream on.”

  “How is it ‘milking’?” the broker winced, his smile mixing please-don’t-hit-me with cunning. “It’s a fair bet. The other side lets you pick the game. Anything goes, as long as the odds are fifty-fifty. Even a coin toss!”

  He leaned in, dropping his voice with a pushy kind of charm.

  “Think. One simple flip, and what you want drops in your lap, no cost!”

  But he didn’t get that this skill—maybe something picked up from being a ‘Corpse-Plague Acolyte’—meant to sway feelings and choices, was still…

  Way too obvious against Pandora, a second-rank Wizard with a focused, dense spirit!

  Pandora barely had to try to feel the faint mental ripples trying to nudge her mind. She didn’t even need to push back. The ripples hit her spiritual sea—deep and vast like an abyss by comparison—and vanished on the spot, like rocks sinking in the ocean, not making a single wave.

  Pandora even hid her reaction behind pure, real suspicion, giving the other guy no clue he’d been felt.

  But Pandora’s face said everything.

  “No,” Pandora said flat, crystal clear. “I told you, I don’t gamble. I won’t join any bet.”

  Pandora’s look was flat, not even firm.

  Because being firm needed “effort.”

  But, “not gambling” wasn’t something she had to try at; it was just… true.

  “Why so sure? Scared to lose? Or maybe… scared you’ll like it too much? That’s normal, I’ve seen plenty—” The broker kept pushing, fishing for a soft spot.

  Pandora cut him off clean.

  “No. I told you.”

  “I refuse.”

  The broker choked.

  He went quiet, his smile freezing into something stiff and tight. His sky-blue eyes hardened with a clear no.

  The air went dead silent.

  A quiet pressure seemed to knot between them, like one more word might crack it.

  But Pandora knew this was just another move from his playbook.

  A pressure play… trying to shake a client by making things quiet and heavy.

  And her answer was:

  “Please go. Just tell him his price is a no.”

  Trying to pressure her? What was he thinking?

  Did she look like a pushover?

  High pressure? Who couldn’t do that?

  She wanted that meditation method, yeah.

  But the buyer’s market for that thing was just as dead.

  An item like that, even a super-rare “fifth-rank” high method, was still a “white elephant”—big and useless—for most apprentices just trying to live.

  The number of people who really wanted to buy was tiny.

  The number who could actually pay was tinier!

  Plain talk: miss this shot, it’s gone.

  For her, maybe.

  But for the other side? Even more.

  Plus, she wasn’t in a huge rush. This was just one of a few brokers she’d talked to. In a few days, another might bring something better.

  Then there was Nicole… Nicole, one of the Ruined City’s top info brokers, often had surprise wins.

  Pandora didn’t believe Nicole’s network couldn’t dig up at least a “fourth-rank” method.

  “We doing this or not? If not, I’m gone!”

  Pandora got up right then to leave.

  At first,

  the broker just sat still, only letting out a big, fake sigh, his face all “such a shame about the deal.”

  But when Pandora actually opened the door, left the room, and showed no sign of looking back…

  Finally…

  “One step, two steps, three…”

  Pandora counted quietly in her head.

  On three, the broker’s voice, not so cool now and a bit strained, came from behind.

  “Hey—hey! Baroness! Wait! This… this can still work. Let’s talk more, why… why walk off!”

  The broker’s helplessness was plain.

  He couldn’t just ditch brokering this major deal.

  A tiny curve touched Pandora’s lip. She turned sharp. “Didn’t you say the other side only takes a bet? I don’t bet. That’s my line.”

  Her voice was cool and clean.

  “Betting—no.”

  “Change the terms. Or go tell him—no deal. I’ve got the means and the time to get what I need.”

  Hearing that, the broker totally deflated.

  He blew out a long breath, face caught between annoyed and beat.

  He’d known this rich, strong-willed master potioner, “The Baroness,” would be tough.

  But… not this tough.

  His proud skill, the one that worked on most people… did nothing to her.

  “Baroness, you’re really… putting me in a spot…”

  Hm?

  Still trying? Think this is turn-based?

  Pandora wasn’t playing. Seeing the other guy still putting on the pressure act, she made to turn and leave again.

  “Hey! Come on, what’s with that!”

  The broker was actually worried now, making a stop-her motion, though not touching.

  “How about… I go talk to the other side again for you? This deal… everyone wants it. No need to kill it.”

  Why not say that before?

  Pandora nodded right off. “Sure. And you can tell them I’m free now. If they’re willing, we meet. If they’re in Eden right now, even better. If not, we set a time.”

  “Alright.”

  The man nodded fast, like he got a stay of execution.

  “Their contact should still be in ‘The Garden.’ I can ask now. Should get a reply quick. But… you might need to stick around Eden a bit.”

  “What do you think, where should we…”

  The broker looked at Pandora, his tone careful.

  Pandora thought a second, then said calm:

  “If they’re in ‘The Garden’… why not ‘Trolley Coffee’? I’ll go get a drink. I leave when it’s done. If you and they sort it out before then, find me there. If not… we pick another time.”

  “You… really are a free bird,” the broker’s look was loaded, with a hint of a sour grape for his little game being called.

  Pandora didn’t budge.

  She knew well that if she didn’t lean on this broker, he’d turn and dump all the waiting on her, making her hang around for nothing.

  So, to not waste her own time, she set the hard deadline.

  “Enough talk. Yes or no?”

  Sure enough, faced with Pandora’s no-wiggle-room line, the broker caved.

  “Fine. See you at the coffee shop.”

  The broker stalled no more. He turned and hurried off.

  Pandora didn’t go back for “The Scalpel.”

  No point. They’d already agreed to practice next chance; no need to chase it now.

  Instead, the broker’s news reminded her it was time to check if her other contacts had any updates.

  Just in case this broker’s trail went cold, at least she’d have other lines ready, right?