Chapter 38.2
Chapter 38.2
A server in an apron promptly appeared with a menu. Before even opening it, Adeline took a deep breath. It was time to put her theory to the test. Recalling how her weapons had materialized, it seemed she could summon items simply by thinking about them. Money should be the same. Adeline pictured a handful of gold coins. That was her mistake. It would have been better to visualize a specific amount. With a cascade of clinking sounds, gold coins erupted from her palm, overflowing onto the table. Startled, she stopped the flow, but it was too late.
The sudden golden shower at the central table had attracted everyone’s attention. Unbeknownst to Adeline, gold held a special significance in Escape. Of the three currencies—bronze, silver, and gold—only gold could be exchanged for real-world currency. Consequently, the pile of gold on the table captivated the entire tavern.
“Could you pick up the coins that fell?” Left with no choice, she asked Damian for help. He readily complied, then abruptly paused, his brow furrowing. “What is it?” “I’ve seen this tree before.” He was looking at the reverse side of a gold coin. Adeline examined a coin marked with the numeral 1. On the back, a large tree was engraved, with abundant branches and three distinct roots.
“You’ve seen this? When?”
“I don’t know. I remember… it needs to be burned,” he murmured, his expression intrigued. Just then, the server returned to take their order.
Two of whatever you recommend,” Adeline said, not even bothering to open the menu. As the server described the course—onion soup, lamb chops, crème brûlée with honey wine sauce, and coffee—Adeline’s mind raced. She hadn’t seen a tree like that in District 13. There were fruit trees in the farming level, but… burn it?
“That will be 50 silver.”
The thought was short-lived. The unexpected currency momentarily threw her. Woo Yoone had mentioned it, but Adeline had no idea whether it was expensive or cheap, or how much 50 silver was in gold. Stalling for time, she asked, “50 silver is how much in gold…?”
After a brief pause, the server glanced at her and helpfully replied, “Five gold.”
Ah, so 10 silver equaled one gold. Adeline nodded and handed over five coins. The server quickly departed. Turning back, Adeline’s eyes met those of a rough-looking man at a diagonal table. She wondered if he had overheard their conversation with the server, but the tavern was noisy, so it was unlikely.
Continued eye contact felt impolite, so she looked away. Suddenly, she felt ravenous. She hadn’t had a proper meal, only potions. It occurred to her that the game system must be affecting her physical needs, allowing her to go three days without food.
While Adeline ordered, Damian observed the other patrons, his arm resting on the table. He noted their mannerisms, how they held their cutlery, the menus and currency used, the topics of their conversations: the new continent, Leon, underwater items being developed around District 9…. Only his elegant index and middle fingers twitched intermittently. With the server gone, silence descended upon their table, a pocket of solitude amidst the boisterous crowd.
Adeline realized they had nothing to talk about. Normally, after ordering in a restaurant, people chatted while waiting for their food. But they shared no common ground. It was different from when they were exploring the captivating streets. The cooled atmosphere hung between them like an unwelcome appetizer. She was about to ask him more about the tree on the coin when a sharp, high-pitched scream pierced the air. The desperate cry made Adeline wince and turn. Unlike her, the other patrons seemed unfazed.
“…! …! …! …! …!” The source of the sound was the diagonal table with the rough-looking man. Three men sat there, grinning, their faces alight with a cruel amusement as they watched something in the center of the table. Adeline leaned closer, a gasp escaping her lips.
A doll, no, a tiny person. A human, no bigger than her hand, with vibrant, butterfly-like wings and bright orange hair. The minuscule creature wore shackles as small as itself, chained to the ring of an ashtray on the table. “Hey, hands off. My turn.”
“Damn, my ears! Thought the little thing swallowed a train whistle. Stop screaming and talk.”
“Daddy. Say daddy.”
“Are you crazy?”
“Kids always say mama or daddy first. It’s gotta be easy.”
“Ha, ha, hahaha. This is insane.”
“Snao, are these little rats even capable of speaking our language?”
“Some of them can. I saw a video.” It didn’t take long to understand the situation. The winner of the wager would be the one to elicit any kind of verbal response from the tiny human, presumably a fairy. The pile of silver coins before the ashtray spoke for itself. It was a disgusting spectacle.
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