When the teacher mentioned it on stage, Shea froze. She’d genuinely forgotten about this.

Right—she still hadn’t paid this semester’s tuition and textbook fees!

All the gold from her last job had been stolen by that clueless Hunter.

If he hadn’t robbed her, nine hundred gold coins would’ve been nothing.

Robbing the rich to help the poor again? Too risky.

Only one path left: fence more stolen goods?

But that bloodhound of a Hunter might sniff her out again.

"Nina, you look pale," a voice cut in. "Third period’s about to start. If you’re unwell, ask Nelly for leave. She’ll approve it."

"It’s not that…"

Shea couldn’t reveal her income sources—not even to her closest friend.

Wait. *Wasn’t* Nina her closest friend?

A small loan should be fine, right?

"Nina," Shea grabbed her shoulders, eyes gleaming. "You’re my only hope! How much allowance do you have left this month?"

"Oh! You’re worried about tuition?" Nina stammered under Shea’s intense gaze. She hated refusing anyone. "I… spent it all."

"Your allowance is two thousand gold monthly! How’d you burn through it?"

Two thousand gold—that was three years’ earnings for a common family. Gone just like that?

"A pair of crystal shoes cost twelve hundred… plus magic supplies. I’ve got a hundred left…"

"Lend me that hundred!" Shea snatched the coin before Nina could react.

"...You already owe me seven thousand gold," Nina mumbled.

"Huh? What was that?"

"Nothing! Class is starting. Shh."

Nina drifted off, starry-eyed, whispering to herself: "Lord Silver… hehe… my Lord Silver…"

*Hopeless romantic.*

Shea placed the coin on her textbook. A drop in the bucket.

Seven hundred more to go. Bienia Academy was strict about tuition—no delays, no excuses. Fail to pay in two days, and she’d face expulsion.

*Gotta scrape together eight hundred gold. Fast.*

Nelly droned on about magic arrays at the podium. Shea heard nothing. The moment class ended, she bolted for the black market.

The Slums’ air hung thick and murky compared to the Magic Academy. Shadows flickered with hostile stares. Her pristine academy uniform glowed like a beacon, drawing pickpockets and thugs.

But Shea knew these streets. She slipped unseen into a derelict house—her stash spot for disguises.

Tattered rags replaced her uniform. Soot smeared her skin. A few grubby touches later, the cute black-haired girl vanished. In her place stood a beggar child—bowl included, she’d rake in coins downtown.

*Some say nobles "adopt" beggar girls… train them as maids… or worse.*

*Like some twisted otome game.*

Shea sighed. *Jealous of the nobles. Not the girls.*

Disguised, she reentered the Slums. Most hungry stares vanished. Only a few leering uncles lingered—easy to dodge.

She reached the black market unscathed. Three knocks, then one more—a coded rhythm.

Silence. She tried again. Nothing.

"Not home?"

"I’m here. Wait." A raspy voice answered from inside. The door creaked open, revealing twig-like fingers in the gap.

No greeting. Shea stepped in.

Pitch darkness. She lit a candle. Flickering light revealed the merchant’s gaunt face—a skeletal old man, sunken eyes fixed on a crystal ball.

"Back already? Sold you goods just last time."

"Desperate. How much can you take today?"

Fences never cleared a Spatial Ring’s contents at once. Slow sales meant easier escapes.

"Can’t today. Your last batch… too hot."

"*Hot*?"

"Hard to move. Dangerous."

Shea frowned. Stolen goods were dangerous?

*Option one: These items require rare skills to use.*

*Option two: Imperial contraband—but the black market thrives on that.*

"You don’t know about the Lost Empire, do you?"

"The Lost Empire…" Shea recalled the history.

*A mighty realm, carved up by allied nations, sealed away in another dimension.*

"Exactly. These are Lost Empire weapons. Circulating them? A capital offense. Even I wouldn’t dare to move too many."