While Stephen was confident he could maintain a monopoly over the resources provided by the dungeon’s portal, so long as he kept diving regularly, he also wished to make it profitable. One way to do it was to ensure he could convert all of his loot into resources.
Recycling them into raw materials to craft new items was a solution, albeit one that implied a significant time investment. He did plan to keep the moonshade moss, as it was mana-infused, and Stephen wouldn’t want to let anyone use it until much later. For example, when mana became more widely known on Earth.
To use some of the materials he plundered to build some items for himself or as a means to make repairs was also something he could accept doing.
However, with the loot he had gathered from his last delve, Stephen was sure he would quickly get overwhelmed by the quantity. It already was the case with the corpses. Despite the fact he could always just dump all surplus from his spoils of war into the anteroom’s Garbage Pit, it was a waste of resources.
Then, beyond his inability to use everything he had harvested was also how time-consuming and exhausting the task would become.
Enjoying his time with his dog Comtess or meeting his family and friends wasn’t something he was willing to give up. Devoting time to delving and crafting would force him to do precisely that.
No matter his desire for power and riches, Stephen wanted to use that portal to improve his life. Thus, he preferred to look for a way to sell any material he couldn’t use directly. However, he would need a way to justify the provenance of all those items. For that, Stephen hoped to acquire some properties around his home to establish facilities to convert his loot into profits. A separate location, independent of the dungeon and his home, would also allow him to hire some people to help him.
The investment he intended to make into Octavia’s company, apart from his desire to help his childhood friend, was thus a way to reach that goal. Partly because he trusted her skills and believed she would succeed, making his investment a profitable venture. But also because, as a real estate company, it might give him opportunities to convert the lands he eyed into usable buildings more efficiently.
Hence, as both a friend and someone placing his hopes on his friend’s success, Stephen was currently much more concerned with being ready for the evening than delving into the intricacies of his status screen. He knew he still had some unattributed stats points and could train to get more accustomed to his skills, yet he preferred to get ready for the evening. He also needed to prepare dinner for the lamia, as she would no doubt be starving if he waited until tomorrow morning.
As he started to get busy in the kitchen, Stephen noticed he would soon need to buy groceries. He still had enough to make simple meals, but eating pasta or rice with frozen vegetables and minced meat would quickly become bothersome. For now, though, he had enough to make a generous portion of risotto for his slithering resident. It was another reason why he would need to buy food more often. Not only had his appetite increased since he awakened, but the lamia also had a much larger physique than humans. He would have to feed the equivalent of four persons.
Before crossing the portal, he filled Comtess’s food bowl and then picked a few other items for his resident. Getting fed was good, but he couldn’t let the lamia live in such poor conditions for so long. As such, he grabbed a handful of old t-shirts, blankets, pillows, and a box filled with BDs and comics. Then, an old alarm clock and a watch. He still didn’t know how electronics would react beyond the portal, so having both options seemed better.
As he moved each item downstairs, including the food, each was put in a larger crate atop the wheeled tray, with the large bowl of rice on the top. Then he went to fill a basin and a few bottles of water while also taking a bar of soap and a towel.
In the anteroom, the [Lamia – Lv 2] was awake this time, and while she did look healthier, it wasn’t by much. A promising sign was that she hadn’t tried to get out. It was hard to guess whether she believed herself too weak to succeed in her escape or if, for some other reason, she preferred to stay where she was.
Considering the state of the fence, Stephen had little doubts about how much time it would take to topple it, especially considering how much taller and larger the lamia were. He hadn’t wanted to make it too small so that she wouldn’t feel too much like a prisoner. Nor did he bind her to anything. The barrier was as much a symbol as a restriction. She could leave through the dungeon with some effort, but going by her past, Stephen doubted it would happen. She was much more likely to die if she went back.
He was more worried about her crossing the portal leading to his home and making her presence known on Earth. That would become problematic for Stephen. And for her, too. Depending on how other humans reacted, death might be better than any experiment she might be put through.
“Hi !” It was a bit weird to give a friendly wave to a person imprisoned in what was the equivalent of his basement. Still, Stephen wanted the place to be temporary until he could ascertain she could be an ally. At least by the time they could understand each other, the situation would become clearer. For now, he didn’t mind acting as a villain. A polite and somewhat caring one, that is.
“You ate everything, great! …Or maybe not, if your taste of meat also expands to raw, human meat… Never mind. I brought you some stuff. It should make your stay more comfortable.”
At that, Stephen put the bowl of food within the enclosure, then the clothes, blankets and pillows on the side, a pace away. Along with the basin of water, the soap and the towel. He kept the clock and watch for now, as he wanted to make her understand when he would be expected to return. While the lamia was slowly slithering towards him, Stephen pointed to himself, speaking slowly as he told her his name, hoping she would understand the gesture and reciprocate.
“Ste-phen.” On second thought, he realised that maybe names had power. At least, Stephen reasoned, he hadn’t given his middle name or surname. Then he remembered that he could see the names of people he knew, including their surnames. So maybe his idea of a name having power wasn’t true, or that a person’s true name referred to something else.
In front of him, the girl had brought back the empty bottles of water and the plates from before, which she put aside from the bowl of risotto. She was still silent, though, much more interested in the food than anything else.
While he wouldn’t have minded giving her more time to get used to his presence, he couldn’t stay for long. Looking at the watch let him know that electronics wouldn’t work since all hands on the watch had stopped moving. At least the clock still worked.
Stephen put it at 5:50 p.m., short of a few seconds, as it would be easier to point to the small hand if none overlapped. He knew it was earlier than that, but he also considered the time he would spend explaining to her he would be gone for a while. Hence, while it wasn’t the exact time, it would serve well enough for the current purpose. The hardest part would be to get the message across.
Indeed, making the girl understand when he would return was a struggle. As he had feared, clocks weren’t a thing she was familiar with. At least, she probably had already seen something similar, like a sundial, as it wasn’t hard to make her understand that the hands on the clock represented the time passing.
On the other hand, making it clear that he would leave and wouldn’t be back until at most twelve hours later was much more complicated. Miming the act of walking to someone who had no legs wasn’t so easy. Stephen spent a while pointing to himself, then to the portal while moving his hand. At first, it was finger walking, then a hand wave as if slithering along the floor. After that, he needed to show how much time would pass before making the opposite motion of him coming from the portal.
The good news was that the lamia girl was trying to understand. She remained pretty calm while Stephen kept moving his arms unintelligibly. Or maybe he just looked funny or scary, and staying calm was the safest way for her not to offend him. Still, when she started nodding her head after about ten minutes while saying what Stephen heard as a “Sssaaa”, he wanted to believe she had understood.
It also was nice to hear her speak. The first time he had met her – when she was still in the cage within the dungeon – she was in a deplorable state and had a raspy voice preventing her from hissing, hence from speaking correctly. Now, Stephen could hear she had recovered her voice. It still was somewhat hoarse, but more like a woman with a deep voice than someone dehydrated, hurt or sick.
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Content with his success in getting his message across, Stephen took away the empty plates and water bottles, putting them on the wheeled tray. Then, before leaving, he tried once more to learn her name. This time, she seemed more willing to react, and his “Ste-phen” got an answer. One that was confirmed when the information shown on [Identify] changed to reflect the name he heard.
[Lyseasis – Lamia – Lv 2] [Lis-ea-zeez]
Saying back her name was much less successful, yet still a victory. To see the girl hold back a chuckle after hearing his atrocious tentative was worth it.
Eventually, Stephen left, feeling much less guilty about his tenant’s situation. Lyseasis had food, water, and clothes and wasn’t left in the dark about when her keeper would return. Plus, she also seemed in good enough body and mind health that she was starting to smile and laugh. Knowing she was doing better and that she wasn’t hostile to him was a huge load off his mind.
Once upstairs, Stephen could finally get ready for his evening. The reserved hall wasn’t too far away, on the Dina Esra plaza, where the mayor’s office was located, only ten minutes away on foot. Therefore, Stephen wasn’t too worried about being late, an hour still being plenty enough to prepare himself. That gave him time to shower once more and trim his beard. As for clothes, he picked a semi-casual outfit, as while it might be for the opening ceremony of Octavia’s company, it also was her birthday. Yet it wasn’t her thirtieth or fortieth birthday, only thirty-fourth. He would rather be slightly underdressed than come in a suit, as he believed a suit would appear more distant. Hence, he chose to wear a plaid white shirt with a navy blue blazer, then a grey pair of jeans with black dress boots.
Before leaving, though, there were a couple of things he had to do. The most important one was to take the box containing the necklace and earrings he intended to gift to Octavia. Another, almost as important, was to write a birthday card.
Finally, he also went to print a transcript of his bank account balance and a copy of his ID. He didn’t know if it would be needed, and maybe his phone and words would be enough. Still, considering the mayor would be there, as would be other investors, it seems better to take a more official approach.
While Comtess did ask for scratches as he left his house, she wasn’t as needy as she had been in the morning. Stephen let her stay outside, only to walk back almost immediately as he saw the flowers in his garden. He had a few varieties, among which different colours of roses. Since he was worried about being late, he only checked if roses could be offered. He knew red roses were out, as it would be a more blatant message than even his gift. After looking into it, he discovered that most colours were all right, except the deepest ones, like black or purple, which could have a more negative meaning. Hence, Stephen walked away with a bouquet of pink, white, yellow and orange roses, with Comtess’ soft barking to send him out.
He estimated he would be in time, just barely.
On his way, Stephen had a bit of a fright, not sure if the hour of 7 p.m. was for the opening ceremony or for the birthday itself. Upon checking the invitation, he was relieved to see the other time was much later. 7 p.m. was for those interested in her new company or even wanting to be there for dinner. It was the more formal section of the party. While starting from 10 – 11 p.m. was the after party, or the actual party, depending on everyone’s interest.