Hacking the Game Didn't Go as Intended
CHAPTER 189: Triple Whammy

Daisuke lightly tapped the chest section of his leather armor with a sigh of relief. It’s so nice to be back in my own skin again, he thought as he made his way to a familiar blacksmith.

His expression turned sour, however, when he noted the “closed” sign hanging on the door, its cold presence staring back at him like an unwelcome scowl.

Daisuke’s lip curled into a snarl as his fingers tightened around the dagger. For a moment, he considered slicing the signage to ribbons to release his pent-up frustration, but as people began to slow down and whisper among themselves, curious eyes fixed on him, he reluctantly stowed the weapon and let out an exasperated sigh.

I traveled weeks! Weeks! Daisuke fumed inwardly, his frustration mounting as he glared at the sign. I came all this way to finally get my hands on some new weapons… and this is what I’m faced with? Just what the actual hell man!

“Anyway,” he muttered, spinning on his heel. “Complaining won’t get me anywhere. Might as well head out for that quest.” His thoughts shifted as he paused, cupping his chin. “Wait a minute… wasn’t it possible to lease a weapon from the Adventurers’ Guild? I’ll give that a shot until I can get my weapons forged. And while I’m at it, I should probably send a letter to Lord Chadrick Rotherham. I did promise him, after all.”

***

DING~

The bell above the door of the Dravenhart Apothecary chimed as Lyndoria stepped inside. Behind the counter were two girls wearing a pleasant smile. Silvestia didn’t miss the fleeting hint of anxiety that flashed in the woman’s eyes as she approached, which reminded her of the man who nearly destroyed their lives.

“Welcome! How can I help you today?” Silvestia greeted warmly.

“Hello, I was hoping to procure some potions,” Lyndoria said, then paused to admire them. “By the way, your dresses are lovely. They suit you both perfectly.”

Fay lowered her gaze shyly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

Silvestia frowned a tad, her smile remaining steady as she tilted her head. “That’s nice of you to say, but I’m afraid flattery won’t earn you any discounts here.”

Both Lyndoria and Fay smiled awkwardly, though Lyndoria’s eyebrow twitched a little in exasperation.

“I-I’m so sorry,” Fay quickly stepped in, offering an apologetic bow. “I think what she meant to say is that we’d be happy to help with your request. What kind of potions are you looking for?”

The tension in Lyndoria’s expression eased at the pink-haired girl’s warm professionalism. “Thank you. I was hoping to buy some Omni-Remedy potions, if you have any in stock.”

“Of course. How many would you like?”

“Fifteen. How much are they per bottle?”

“Thirty gold each,” Silvestia answered smoothly, reclaiming the conversation.

“Th-Thirty?” Lyndoria echoed in disbelief. “But it’s twenty-five gold in Wonderelle.”

The feisty young clerk narrowed her eyes with a condescending smirk. “Well, this is Lunarel—the capital of this magnificent kingdom—where the Omni-Remedy costs thirty gold. Ever heard of supply and demand? Do you know nothing about economics?”

This little! Infuriated, Lyndoria grinded her teeth, her fingers curling into trembling fists. The thought of planting her knuckles in the girl’s head gave her immense satisfaction. But the insolent brat wasn’t finished—her smirk made that abundantly clear.

Scrutinizing the fuming customer, Silvestia’s gaze narrowed at the maid’s uniform hugging the woman’s unimpressive frame. It bore a resemblance to the attire worn by waitresses at local taverns and cafés, raising her suspicions.

“Are you sure you can even afford fifteen of these potions, even at twenty-five gold each?”

Lyndoria’s expression darkened, her patience visibly fraying at the insult.

“Si-Silvie,” Fay whispered urgently, tugging at her sleeve. “Don’t you think… you’re going a bit too far?”

At her friend’s words, Silvestia’s demeanor shifted in an instant, her sharpness giving way to something more measured. “…We’ve had countless customers come in hoping that the Omni-Remedy could cure pixie crystal addiction. The unfortunate truth is—it doesn’t.”

Lyndoria’s breath hitched, the color draining slightly from her face.

“—But,” Silvestia went on, her tone softening, “our apothecary has developed an elixir specifically formulated to counteract the drug’s effects… and we don’t sell it for profit.”

Lyndoria’s eyes widened in astonishment.

“It’s just two gold per vial.”

“…Th-That’s wonderful! Thank you so much,” Lyndoria breathed, visible relief washing over her features. “That’s exactly what I need.”

“I’m sorry for earlier,” Silvestia bowed her head politely. “I just needed to gauge your reaction. It’s how we verify whether someone is a user. The last thing we want is for someone in need to walk away without the help they deserve.”

“Ah, that explains it.”

Fay smiled softly, her expression warm. While Silvestia’s delivery could have been more graceful, she was simply glad they had been able to help in the end.

“I’ll be sure to inform Her Highness and His Majesty of everything you’ve done for us today. Thank you again.”

As the woman left, Silvestia’s head turned toward Fay with a slow, almost comical creak, like a rusted door. “H-His Majesty? I-I didn’t just patronize a servant of the royal family, did I?”

Fay broke into a cold sweat.

“We’re all going to get hanged, aren’t we?”

***

Lumielle stifled a sneeze, drawing a concerned neigh from her horse and a whine from Zephyr.

“I’m okay,” she reassured them with a warm smile, tenderly combing her fingers through the steed’s mane before shifting her gaze to the pup hanging off her shoulder. “Everyone is working hard to fulfill their roles. I must do the same—the future of the kingdom depends on it.”

From the concealing shadows of the forest, the princess’s jade-green eyes glimmered beneath her hood. In the southern outskirts of Zorno, she silently observed a large number of slaves laboring under the watchful eyes of an infantry of soldiers. Their tasks ranged from toiling in the fields to tending the tranquilids—anything that eased the burdens of the farmers.

Lumielle’s expression darkened as she watched the demi-humans struggle against the biting cold, their threadbare clothing offering little protection against the harsh clime. “Slaves or not, this treatment is beyond cruel. Is this truly something the Chancellor condones? This is absolutely barbaric!”

The princess’s delicate eyebrows crinkled as she brainstormed how exactly to proceed in addressing the corruption deeply rooted within the royal court.

She sat motionlessly atop her horse, regal and poised, the very image of grace. Or at least, she had been until an eight-legged terror decided to ruin her day. A spider, plump and oblivious to its crime, bungee-jumped from a branch and dangled directly in front of her face.

Lumielle shrieked.

The horse, startled beyond reason, reared up with a panicked neigh. In the chaos, the princess lost her grip on the reins and with all the grace of a sack of flour, tumbled backward onto the ground.

Her eyes snapped to her horse that was now galloping away as though it, too, wanted no part in this disaster. Dazed and devastated, the princess scrambled to her feet and ungracefully gave chase, ignoring the dirt on her dress and the twigs in her hair.

“P-Please don’t leave me behind!” she cried.

Unfortunately, instead of answering to her plea, fate had yet another humiliation in store. The hem of her cloak snagged on a shrub and before she could react—

RIIIP!

With a gasp of horror, she fell flat on her face.

For a moment, all was silent except for the rustling leaves and the distant sound of her horse’s retreating hooves. Then, groaning, Lumielle lifted her head, her forehead flushed red from both the impact and sheer indignation.

And that was when she saw him.

Zephyr stood a few paces away, oceanic eyes locked onto her with an expression so deadpan, so thoroughly unimpressed, that it made her want to scream all over again.

Tears welled in her eyes. She sniffled, then burst into a full-blown wail like a spoiled child.

Zephyr sighed as if saying, Before addressing the corruption in the kingdom, perhaps you should consider addressing your own clumsiness first.