It seemed the bearded man priced people like a hawker sizing fruit—different faces, different tags. In a world with no oversight, such weeds sprout by the roadside. Boats were as scarce as gulls at dusk, and need pressed like a tide. Folks with places to go could only board.

Sure enough, two more arrived—a man and a woman—close as paired swallows, likely a married couple. Their clothes held a quiet shine, the look of locals with a little money.

The bearded man’s eyes rolled like marbles; his smile spread like oil on water as he went to greet them. “Heh, you two looking to take a boat?”

They traded a glance. The man stepped forward, voice steady as a pier. “Yes. To the Lowegar Kingdom. How much?”

“Heh…” He chuckled and unspooled the same patter—routes rough as storm seas, food provided aboard—then named it like a hook cast. “I’ll give you a discount. For both of you, one gold coin.”

“Uh…” The man’s face pinched like paper in rain.

The woman edged up, worry fluttering like a sparrow. “Isn’t that a bit too expensive? Forget it—this is just a trip. We can go somewhere else.”

But the man stiffened like a mast in wind. “No. You said you wanted to see the sea. Let’s still go to Lowegar. It’s just one gold coin; I’ll earn it back.”

He fished out a gold coin and flicked it over; it flashed like a sunbeam. The bearded man lit up like a lantern and hurried the tickets into their hands.

As they walked off, the woman grumbled, voice like needles under cloth. “What was that? You just handed him a gold coin? You couldn’t haggle? Say it’s too pricey and walk. If he panics, he’ll drop the price. Then we pay.”

“Uh…” The man rubbed his head, sheepish as a boy caught with sweets. “Didn’t think that far. Sorry.”

After that, the bearded man called several times, his voice drifting like smoke, but no one else came. The tourist tide had ebbed.

Watching him, Rexi felt a thorn prickle under the skin—annoyance more than anger. She could pay, sure, but it felt too cheap to let him fatten on it.

She asked Lucimia, voice low as surf. “What do we do? Just give him twenty silvers, then board under Invisibility Magic?”

“It’d work,” Lucimia said, a smile like moonlight on still water. “But didn’t you want to experience this? I’ll let you handle it. Want to go bargain? Haggling’s a kind of fun.”

“Mm… I’m not good at that.”

“If it won’t fly, use your little tricks,” Lucimia said with a mischievous curve to her lips, winking like a firefly.

“My little tricks… Is that really okay? Is that… right?”

“Why not?” Lucimia’s tone was light and sweet, a devil’s whisper coiling like incense smoke. “Look—he even scammed that old granny. Her clothes were rags in the wind. She emptied her purse, clearly set her coins so she’d have enough in Lowegar. The ticket’s only twenty, yet that bristling beard wrung thirty more from her. Too rotten. How can righteous Rexi just watch?”

Rexi’s doubt wavered like a reed, then stilled. Lucimia was right. The man was rotten. He deserved a lesson.

She drew in a breath, courage kindling like a spark, and Lucimia lifted the veil of Invisibility Magic.

“Hello,” Rexi said behind him, voice as clear as a bell.

The bearded man jolted, springing back two steps like a startled cat. Seeing two girls, he let out a breath.

“Scared me half to death. You two here to ride the boat?” he said, eyes raking them like a merchant weighing grain.

The green-haired girl in front was pretty as new leaves, features fine as carved jade, though her outfit wasn’t rich—classic adventurer’s gear, clean and sturdy. The other girl made his eyes widen. That black hair fell like night water, and his first thought leapt like a spark—Bloodkin. Her clothes were costly, her beauty near celestial, and her silence carried a cold, spare air, a frost-ring that kept people at bay.

A Bloodkin noble, maybe?

He weighed whether to cheat them at all, fingers of thought tapping like rain. If he cheated, how much? He might scam, but he knew where not to step.

While he hesitated, Rexi didn’t plan to let him slip.

She stepped closer and snapped her fingers, the sound a crisp spark. “You don’t remember who I am?”

“You’re…?” His brow furrowed like plowed earth. Then, a flash—“Oh! You two!”

Memory broke the surface like a fish. Right—these two were the muscle he and the captain had hired to safeguard the boat. That Bloodkin girl’s power was bottomless as a well, and it cost a fortune to bring her on.

Only that fortune… didn’t feel fully paid.

Yet another memory bobbed up saying the payment was done. The overlap made him dizzy, like looking at ripples on ripples.

“I remember… your fee… seems paid?” he said, unsure, voice wobbling like a loose plank.

Rexi opened her mouth to say it wasn’t, but Lucimia’s hand settled on her shoulder, a quiet anchor. Rexi shut her lips.

Inside, Lucimia sighed, soft as a falling petal. Rexi wasn’t yet deft with the Memory Power; she’d stuffed memories in without smoothing the seams. Saying “not paid” now would snag suspicion.

If it were her, she could weave the man a whole false life like a silk tapestry.

She spoke for Rexi, tone even as a ruler. “You did pay, but you told us it was in installments. Now it’s time for the remainder.”

As she spoke, she pressed Rexi’s shoulder. Rexi caught on, and snapped her fingers softly, threading the memory in like a hidden stitch.

“Ah—right!” The bearded man’s face lit with sudden sense, like clouds parting. “Installments. I knew it—I remembered paying and not paying and thought I was going mad. So it was installments.”

“That’s right,” Lucimia said with a nod neat as a seal.

“Uh… how much do I still owe?” he asked, words fogging with dread.

Lucimia didn’t answer at once. She only smiled, and the smile set a chill like a draft through a crack.

—

“Thanks,” Lucimia said, taking a gold coin from his palm, ready to leave. The coin winked like a captive sun.

The bearded man watched it go, pain pinching his face, as if heat had been stolen from his hands—he’d just earned it; it hadn’t even warmed his pocket.

“Oh, right,” Lucimia said, turning back like a swallow wheeling.

“What is it?”

“We’re the ones you hired to guard the boat. Shouldn’t we get tickets too?”

“…”

So Lucimia and Rexi took their tickets and headed for the waiting area, steps steady as metronome beats.

As they walked, Rexi’s voice was small, guilt rustling like dry grass. “You’re scary, Lucimia. Was that… bad of us? A whole gold coin—it feels like we scammed him.”

“One gold coin is nothing. He’s taken far more,” Lucimia said, shaking her head, cool as shade. She rolled the coin in her fingers, then veiled it with Invisibility Magic.

They entered the waiting area. As Lucimia passed the old granny, she flicked the coin into the wicker basket—a silent star dropping into a pond—then lifted the veil.

Following Lucimia’s cue, Rexi nudged the old woman’s memory, gentle as a brushstroke, so the granny would recall one last savings stash—one gold coin. That way, the sudden coin wouldn’t frighten her; if her heart leaned kind, she might even hand it to the guards.

Done, Lucimia and Rexi chose a wooden bench and sat, the grain under them steady as a shoreline.