Miles froze. Martin froze. Every passerby froze too. Those kneeling gaped, mouths agape, expressions blank as if struck by lightning.

Roland’s statue was far more delicate and vivid than Miles’s—so lifelike many briefly mistook it for a shrunken human.

No one knew what was happening, but even a fool could see Roland’s was clearly superior.

“Whoops! How’d this slip out?” Roland said with careless, smug flair.

He’d disliked these two nobles flaunting their wealth from the start. Too bad all his valuables were in his coat—but now? He had it back!

If you wanna show off, I’ll play along to the very end!

“You… you have one too?!” Miles stared, eyes wide as saucers, utterly stunned.

“Well, I’m rich too!” Roland secretly gloated. Though low on coin, his pockets held legendary artifacts by the handful—just like Doraemon’s magical pouch.

He’d found this statue years ago in an abandoned temple of the Goddess of Creation.

Miles and Martin were dumbfounded. They’d meant to flex—only to get flexed on. By a random stranger! What were the odds?!

“Fine. Switch items,” Miles muttered. Martin pulled a purple pearl from the chest.

“A merfolk purple pearl?!” a knowledgeable man in the crowd yelled. “A legend?! Heaven! I can die happy now!!!”

“Exactly! Only deep-sea merfolk produce these! Not white—nine hues: red, orange, yellow, green, cyan, blue, purple, silver, gold. Even red is worth fortunes. This purple? Once-in-a-millennium. And it carries a tragic cross-racial love story…”

Before Martin could launch into the tearjerker tale, Roland reached into his coat pocket again.

“Oops! I’ve got two pearls from a friend. Looks like yours…”

Miles and Martin felt a chill of foreboding. Surely he couldn’t top it—

But he did.

Roland withdrew two pearls: silver and gold.

Gasps erupted. The middle-aged man collapsed, foaming at the mouth. Miles and Martin nearly choked on shock.

Silver! Silver! And gold! Gold!!! Worth a whole city!!!

“Hmm?” Silva tugged Roland’s arm, blinking her clear eyes. “So pretty. Can I have them?”

“No.” Roland refused flatly. “Precious memories.”

“Darling~ Pleeease~” Silva clung to his arm, pouting. Her first time acting coquettish. Her heart fluttered; cheeks flushed crimson.

Roland melted. That sweet “darling” sent a tingling current through him. Weak-kneed, he handed them over.

Silva gently caressed the pearls, smiling brightly. “Then these are our tokens of love!”

“W-wait!” Miles paled, sweat-plastered golden hair clinging to his brow. “I… I have another treasure! You can’t possibly have this!”

He snatched a goose-egg-sized ruby from the chest, throat tight. “This isn’t just any ruby! It adorned the hero’s sword that slew the Demon King decades ago! One of a kind! Holds immense power! And carries a heroic love story—winning the holy maiden’s hand!”

Bloodshot eyes locked on Roland. *Go on! Try! You can’t! I win!*

Clang!

A longsword clattered to the ground.

An oval slot gleamed on the blade—the exact shape of Miles’s ruby.

“Oops? Must’ve slipped,” Roland murmured, bending down. Miles’s eyes bulged. He recognized it.

*This was the legendary hero’s sword!*

“Ahhh! Ahhh! Ahhh!” Miles clawed his hair wildly. Martin slumped to the dirt, vacant-eyed.

These two nobles—afflicted with the unbearable itch to show off—had just suffered a critical relapse.

Roland sighed. “Sigh… Why flaunt your riches right in front of me?”