Collector’s Cage - Chapter 2

Hermie’s eyes widened. She had cut her hair extremely short to not look like a girl and hadn’t expected to be caught so easily.

“You think I can’t tell just because you cut your hair short? One look and I can see you’re a pretty little thing, a girl. Go home now, before you get into real trouble wandering around like this.”

“If I could go back home, would I be here like this? Whether I die there or here, dying is dying either way. Oh! And I know how to read and write.”

“You know how to read? Hmm…”

Hermie was lucky. Meeting a merchant who was raising a daughter himself and thus had a soft spot for girls was a stroke of luck, and the fact that the merchant guild she joined was much more solid than she’d imagined was a great fortune.

And she also had the ability to seize opportunities when they came. Hired as an odd-job worker, Hermie’s literacy soon landed her the role of accounting assistant.

She traveled to various villages with the merchants, experienced a crush, and even had a romance. The end of the romance wasn’t good, but it was clear her life was far more colorful than it would have been had she stayed in the village.

And so, Hermie was living diligently in her own way.

The origin of all her problems began with a chronic debtor who hadn’t paid for goods for a month now.

“Is that guy still acting tough, saying he has no money?”

“If it wasn’t for the mage, we would have already started collections. He’s holed up in his Mage Tower and won’t budge. Damn it, those mage bastards!”

“That’s exactly why I told you not to deal with those mage types! I said they have even less conscience than nobles, didn’t I?”

“…Sigh. What do we do now? Because of that one guy, our funds are tangled up and we can’t even purchase goods. At this rate, we’ll go bankrupt!”

Hermie ground her teeth in frustration. A mage from the Mage Tower had taken goods worth 300 gold but hadn’t paid up. 300 gold was equivalent to half a year’s revenue for the Pumpkin Flower Guild.

Since he hadn’t paid, retrieving the goods should have been the solution. The problem was that the mage was holed up in his tower and wouldn’t move.

In the Empire, a Mage Tower was practically a sanctuary. Without the tower’s permission, not even nobles could set foot inside. So it was all the more impossible for a mere merchant to enter recklessly.

If a mage killed someone and hid in the tower, the perpetrator couldn’t be caught unless the tower cooperated. It was truly an outrageous privilege.

Just what was so special about mages, shut away in dark rooms like storage sheds doing weird research, to deserve such privileges?

Given that they enjoyed such privileges, it was no wonder those mage types were soaked in a sense of entitlement and acted all high and mighty.

Probably thought nothing of swindling merchants. Insisting they were great mages doing world-changing research!

“I’ll go.”

“You can’t even enter the Mage Tower. What are you going to do there?”

“But we have no other choice.”

“In the time it takes to do that, you’d be better off going to the bank and begging. I’ll go one more time.”

The guild master let out a deep sigh and left the room. Having already been turned away at the bank once, his departing footsteps were heavy.

Watching his retreating back, Hermie also let out a heavy sigh.

As she was restlessly flipping through the perforated ledger in her frustration, Hermie suddenly remembered something and jerked her head up.

‘That guy back then… didn’t he say he works at the Mage Tower?’

The man who had publicly confessed to her a week ago and been thoroughly rejected came to mind.

‘What was his name? Hesun? Desun? No, was it Hanson?’

Their connection was just a few chance encounters on the street. They had made eye contact often enough that his face was familiar, but his name escaped her.

And they had never had a proper conversation until right before he confessed.

She had only heard trivial things from people around her: that he works at the Mage Tower so his income is good, that his mild-mannered personality is nice, that he’s a filial son, etc.

She wondered why these people kept praising a total stranger, and a few days later she was ambushed with a confession in the square.

‘Should I… go look for him?’

It was shameless to ask for a favor after rejecting his confession, but Hermie, feeling desperate, decided to put on a bold face.

Who knows. A way to overcome this obstacle might appear.

***

“Really, I can’t. If I get caught, they’ll say they’ll have my head.”

“Even if I do get caught, I promise I won’t mention your name, Mr. Hanson. I’ll die alone.”

“It’s not Hanson, it’s Dawson…”

“Yes, Mr. Dawson. I’ll make sure you’re never implicated. Please, I’m begging you.”

“Haah…”

Dawson turned his head with a gloomy expression. Hermie’s heart grew anxious.

“If we can just resolve this matter, would you like to have dinner with me?”

“Huh?”

“We’ve never really had a proper conversation, Mr. Dawson. All we’ve done is pass by each other. I think taking our time to get to know each other could be nice.”

She had absolutely no intention of toying with his feelings, but wouldn’t it be possible for good feelings to develop as they got to know each other? It was her way of leaving the possibility open.

Of course, coming from someone in her position—asking for a favor—leaving such an opening was unlikely to be seen in a positive light.

Dawson hesitated, his eyes shifting restlessly.

“Will… will there be drinks as well?”