Ivor looked at the teenager in front of him. He looked to be around thirteen. Ivor felt himself gulping, but he nonetheless asked, “You have a lifespan of sixty-seven. That is, you are fated to live for another sixty-seven years. Are you willing to pledge to me all of your lifespan?”

The boy trembled, looking at the floor nervously, but Neol only had to touch him on the shoulder once for the boy to stiffen up. The boy raised his head, looked at Ivor in the eyes with an expression of sheer terror, and replied, “I am willing.”

Nothing happened.

Neol’s gaze hardened. “Well, I guess your sister—”

“I’m—I’m willing! I’m willing! I pledge my lifespan! I’ll die!” the boy screamed, and this time, golden light burst through the room.

Once the golden light faded, letters appeared in front of Ivor, showing him the progress he made with his lifespan gathering. Ivor could only bring himself to glance at the aged corpse on the floor before the guild leaders carried the body away themselves.

Ivor reached for his pouch when Neol smiled and said, “Please, pay us for every five to ten. It’ll be quicker and easier that way.”

—

The first ten made him feel guilty.

The next ten made him feel sad.

The next ten made him feel melancholic.

By the next ten, all Ivor began caring about was the progress he was making, the numbers increasing, how much closer he was getting to the seven thousand one hundred.

It was swift. Surprisingly so.

Ivor had never imagined getting to this number would be so easy. Money could do… wondrous things.

—

“One hundred and thirty more to go,” Ivor whispered reverently and turned to Neol. “How many more kids do you have left?”

“One more,” Neol replied. “Do we have to gather more?”

“No,” Ivor replied. “Both my funds and requirements are close to running out. Bring the kid.”

The girl who entered had her gaze firmly etched to the ground. There were cuts on her face. Fresh cuts, cuts that still bled. It seems she tried to run away, to fight back.

“Lifespan,” he whispered and took in her number. Only fifty-three. He’d still need eighty years. “You will live for fifty-three years more. Do you pledge all of it to me?” Ivor replied, his throat somewhat hoarse.

The girl didn’t reply.

Neol struck her in the shin, not even bothering to act out any of the earlier patience. Perhaps it was because he could see that his customer was too tired to care. Neol, of course, didn’t look the slightest bit tired. Instead, he looked like he was on the top of the world, a manic happiness present on his face.

Ivor could understand why. He’d singlehandedly given the man and his guild a chance to leap into a different realm. From commoner to faux noble with enough gold coins to be able to swim in them.

The girl still didn’t say anything. At this, Neol sighed and turned to one of the guild leaders. The leader nodded. She had a sibling.

“Well, I guess we might as well bring her sibling here,” Neol said.

No reply. The girl didn’t seem to care.

Neol, of course, didn’t seem to be overly concerned about that. They’d had a few stubborn kids, after all. Some who shut down, some who seemed to believe that as long as they stayed silent.

It was fine…

Some finely placed injuries and some more threats later, they all gave in.

Rolling his eyes, Neol declared, “Might as well use her sister instead—”

“I’m willing,” the girl whispered, a whisper that only Ivor seems to have heard, and that too because he’d been focused on her.

A burst of gold light later, he still needed seventy-seven years.

“I need seventy-seven years more.” Ivor declared rather openly, and Neol cupped his chin.

A second later, Neol smiled. 

“Go grab a few passersby. The younger, the better.”

—

Lifespan requirements fulfilled. The assignment of your wishes will require physical morphing of your body. The shop recommends being in an isolated, secure place before asking for the shop to grant your wishes.

When ready, say:

[Grant Wishes]

Ivor let out a trembling breath as he read through the golden words that appeared in front of him. This was it. He’d done it. He’d goddamn done it.

He turned to Neol, completely ignoring the bodies, and handed the final batch of gold coins. With this, their deal was over. The big deal Ivor had proposed had been fulfilled. Faster than he could have ever expected, and more efficiently than he could have hoped.

“Pleasure doing business with you,” Ivor muttered, and Neol nodded, almost reverently.

He bowed a deep ninety degrees as Ivor and Violet left the building, shouting, “We’ll always be ready for the next big deal!”

Only after they moved through a few alleyways and drifted through a solid amount of the capital and they’d ascertained there were no tails behind them—it seemed Magnus nor the other information guilds had dared to put a tail behind them—did Violet ask, “So, how many years of lifespan did you accumulate? A few hundred? More? We’ll have to do this for a solid few days, won't we? Especially since sneaking out every day would be a risk.”

Ivor, once more, did not know how to reply. In the end, he just decided to tell her the truth. “I accumulated all of the required lifespan.”

“What? How?!” Violet gasped.

Well, not the full truth.

“The slum residents and the guild members were really desperate for gold. As soon as the underground guild spread information about my offer, people were lining up,” Ivor replied more calmly than he thought he could. “Many gave ten to twenty years, some even up to thirty if they had a desperate need for money. And it just… accumulated. I was amazed too.”

Violet gasped in amazement. “Really? Wow. I guess what you said is true. The slum residents value gold a lot more than I’d expected. Perhaps it was a really good deal for them.”

“Yeah,” was all Ivor could bring himself to say, and luckily for him, Violet didn’t continue pursuing the topic after that. She was probably tired. It had been a long night, after all.

Light was just beginning to seep into the capital. It wasn’t even quite early morning yet, but nor was it night.

This had truly been a long, long night.

—

“Grant wishes,” Ivor said as he lay in his bed.

For a second, nothing happened.

Then, there was pain.

Pain all over. Pain in every nerve. Pain through every single pore of his body. Pain in such a realm that he’d never even imagined such pain could exist. Pain that let only a single thought exist in his mind—

To end it.

No matter how. For this pain to end. To stop. To relent.

—

Trista hummed a tune under her breath as she walked to her destination. The third prince’s room. The third prince was likely still asleep, so her work would be completed smoothly. Well, it’d be completed smoothly even if the prince was awake. He sometimes was, even this early in the morning, but his gaze was a rather heavy weight.

A royal was a royal, after all. They didn’t need to do anything but stare to make their subjects feel cold sweat drip down their back.

Especially since the third prince, unlike the other princes, was expressionless. So if he was staring at her, she’d not know if it was whether she was doing a good job cleaning the windows, a bad job opening them this early in the morning, or her sheer presence was so annoying that he was pissed.

At the end of the day, the third prince rarely even ever interacted with the maids, so Trista wasn’t scared per se. He was also the kinder one amidst the three, so she doubted he would randomly punish her, but…

It would indeed be a lot simpler if he was just asleep. So she found herself hoping that was the case as she reached the room’s doors, hoping that the prince was fast asleep and having sweet dreams.

Pushing them open, she stopped humming. Hell, she didn’t dare breathe too loudly in case the third prince woke up due to her, which would make anyone grumpy, let alone a prince, when she saw what dyed the floor.

Blood.

Dark red blood all over the floor.

Trista felt her heart freeze as she slowly lifted her gaze, looking towards the bed. The previously white bed sheets were now dyed red with blood dripping down steadily, yet slowly. On the bed lay the third prince, barely recognizable due to his blonde hair, bloodied. His very skin cracked, arms and legs twisted in odd angles with his mouth forced open, like someone had shoved their hands inside and broke the upper and lower jaw, and left them barely attached yet spread wide open.

Trista screamed.

—

James stirred open, blearily blinking as he sat up. He rubbed his eyes and took in his surroundings. He’d altered his bedroom a lot compared to how Archaniel had left it. He’d made the ceiling a dark black with planets and stars painted on it. Which, hey, it was indeed a bit childish, but it was also really soothing and calm to look at! Why go with standard, boring solid colors when he could just do this instead?

He’d gone through a lot of thought yesterday trying to decide the colors of the walls before saying ‘Fuck it, stars it is!’ and asking the shop to make them all a deep black with white sprinkled over them carefully to imitate and make stars. No planets, though. He didn’t want to fully copy the ceiling.

The ground was switched from the pale black to stylish gray tiles. He still couldn’t really figure out whether the tiles were actually real or the shop had just done an extremely good paint job. And he’d made the bed a lot bigger.

The bedsheets he simply left white, perhaps he could’ve customized them too, made them starry… The more James thought about it, the better that idea seemed, but he was pretty tired last night. The idea hadn’t occurred to him then.

It was only after a long yawn and a few stretches did he notice the golden words in front of his eyes.

Customer contractee {Third Prince of Elen} has fulfilled the requirements of the contract. His wishes have been granted by the shop.

The soul energy gained has been split as follows:

Three thousand five hundred and fifty (half) was consumed to fulfill his wishes thoroughly.

One thousand eight hundred and two (quarter + currently consumed energy for modifications + requirements) has been taken by the shop for upkeep and maintenance purposes and to refill consumed soul energy. 

One thousand seven hundred and forty-eight (remaining) has been put into your ‘stockpile’ and will be used for any future modifications and requirements put forth by you, the representative and owner.

Say: [Dismiss Notice] once you are done reading and want the words to disappear.

James blinked as he skimmed through the shop’s notice. He skimmed through it before a big smile appeared on his face. The prince had been super fast with his lifespan gathering. Understandable, the wishes must have been really tempting for him to fulfill!

With this, James had completed his first deal, hadn’t he? He officially had some soul energy stockpiled too, so he could even make new rooms or customize the shop more without having to worry about the soul energy running out!

Grinning, he announced, “Dismiss Notice.”