As we enter Vera, the capital city of Valeria, the scene that greets us feels like something pulled straight from a medieval fantasy. Most of the buildings are multi-storied, featuring wooden frames and plastered walls, while cobblestone roads stretch beneath tall lamp posts. Because there’s no electricity in this world, I can only assume these lamp posts are powered by some sort of magical stone. It’s nearly noon, and the streets are bustling with life—pedestrians, animals, carts, and the occasional carriage or mounted rider. Everywhere I look, humans, beast-men, elves, and dwarves mingle and converse in a language I somehow understand.
What surprises me most is the remarkable cleanliness of the city. There are no open sewers, and people seem to have a habit of keeping public spaces free of litter.
“Master,” Sophia whispers, leaning closer to me. “Vera is the largest and busiest city on the entire continent.”
I nod, slipping into the flow of people with ease. But according to Sophia, Vera is even more impressive at night. It’s referred to by many names: The Capital of Light, The City That Never Sleeps… She insists its true beauty emerges under the moonlit sky, and I find myself looking forward to witnessing that spectacle.
We continue our journey, weaving through the crowd until we reach the main market, where the air brims with a symphony of enticing aromas—roasted meats, freshly baked bread, and the sharp tang of exotic spices from open-air food stalls.
However, sightseeing isn’t our priority.
“As expected, they’re here,” Sophia mutters, tugging at my sleeve.
Following her gaze, I spot wanted posters plastered across a nearby notice board. Each one bears our faces, accompanied by the intimidating sum of two million crowns per head. A bounty of six million crowns in total for the three of us.
“Stay close,” I whisper to Yumi, who nods apprehensively.
Curious about the value of this bounty, I quietly ask Sophia how much everyday goods—like bread or meat—cost in crowns. After her explanation, I do some mental math. It appears that one crown roughly equates to one US dollar, meaning we each have a two-million-dollar price on our heads.
“Let’s move,” I say under my breath, and we slip away from the bustling crowd, doing our best to keep our faces hidden. The size of this bounty is precisely why we need to reach the black market as soon as possible.
As we leave the main thoroughfare, Sophia leads us down a narrow alleyway. The contrast is striking: the lively bustle of the city fades into dimly lit corners and hushed shadows, the lamplights fewer and farther between. Eventually, we stop in front of a worn, unremarkable pub sign reading “The Jumpy Hare.” Instead of using the main entrance, Sophia takes us around to a stout wooden door at the back. It bears no sign, just thick planks and iron hinges.
“Master, this door is enchanted,” Sophia explains in a hushed voice. “If you just open it normally, you’ll find nothing but a useless little storage room. But if you knock in a specific pattern, like this…”
Knock.
Knock knock.
The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
Knock.
Knock knock.
The door creaks slightly open, revealing an eye, old and wrinkled, examining us intently.
“Password?” a raspy voice inquires from behind the barely open door.
“Basilisk’s tears,” Sophia whispers.
The door creaks open fully, granting us entry, and then promptly closes the moment all three of us step inside. The sound of the heavy lock sliding into place reverberates through the dimly lit space.
But we are not at the market yet. A steep, narrow staircase spirals downward, shrouded in darkness. The descent feels endless, each step accompanied by the faint echoes of our footfalls against the cold stone walls. The air grows heavier, laden with dampness and the faint scent of mildew. After nearly five minutes, we finally reach the bottom, and the black market unfolds before us.
“Oh, this place is huge!” I exclaim, unable to mask my surprise. I hadn’t expected a space this vast, especially after navigating such a confined entrance.
The market spans a cavernous underground chamber, roughly the size of a football field. Lanterns hanging from the rocky ceiling emit an eerie blue glow, barely illuminating the space and adding to the clandestine atmosphere. There are no proper stalls here; instead, merchants display their wares on rugs or mats spread across the uneven ground, and beneath many of these mats, faintly glowing magic circles catch my eye.
Curious, I lean toward Sophia and ask Sophia about the circles.
“Those are for if something happen, they can teleport themselves out immediately,” she replies
“I see…”
And not only that, around us, everyone is masked or hooded, their faces carefully hidden. Anonymity here isn’t just a precaution—it’s a requirement. This hidden world thrives on secrecy.
“Yumi, stay close,” I whisper.
She nods, her small hand clutching tightly onto my arm. Her wide eyes dart nervously around the shadowed surroundings.
And then, the deeper we venture, the more I take in the unique sensory details of this underground bazaar. The sound of dripping water echoes faintly from somewhere unseen, mingling with hushed voices and the occasional clink of metal. The air carries a blend of earthy dampness, the sharp tang of metal, and the smoky aroma of burning herbs.
Merchants hawk a wide variety of goods. Vials of colorful liquids shimmer under the weak light, promising everything from healing to poison. Weapons of all shapes and sizes are displayed next to stacks of faded, arcane-looking books. Piles of monster parts—claws, scales, and even preserved eyes—are arranged alongside bundles of strange herbs. Every corner of the market feels steeped in mystery, with the faint undercurrent of danger.
Interestingly, I notice several signs emblazoned with the words “Platinum Trade.”
“Sophia,” I whisper, leaning closer. “Do people here trade platinum too?”
“Ah, yes! Platinum is really, really valuable here! It’s even a hundred times more expensive than gold!”
“Oh? Is it because it’s too rare?”
“Partly,” she nods, before elaborating. “But it’s not just about scarcity.”
She then explains it to me in more detail. Turns out, this silver-white metal has the unique property of disrupting mana flow, effectively interrupting spells. It can be crafted into weapons to counteract magic users and monsters that depend on magic. On the other hand, armors forged from platinum can shield its bearer from magical assaults, making them a perfect choice to go against a mage.
However, just as I hypothesized, platinum is exceedingly rare, making it incredibly expensive. The kingdom even goes to great lengths to hoard and restrict the supply of it. As a result, the black market has become the prime venue for platinum trading, offering the most competitive prices.
Despite this, a gram of platinum still commands a price a hundred times greater than its weight in gold, and among the so-called platinum equipment available here, many are nothing more than cheap fakes. Genuine items with more than 3 percent platinum content would already be considered a treasure find.
Knowing that, I can’t help but grin. I have platinum with me—pure platinum from Earth, right in my pocket.
After all, platinum played a crucial role on how I hijacked my way here, into this fantasy world..
But, of course, we didn’t come here merely to trade metal. Our primary objective is located in a remote corner: an accessory shop managed by an impressively tall, muscular man with wolf ears.