Isolde's eyelid twitched slightly.
This scope of business sounded like some kind of otherworldly flagship store, stocked with all sorts of bizarre items.
Ur raised his hand and lightly snapped his fingers.
A roll of parchment flew out from a drawer in the mobile shop behind him, unrolling itself in midair before turning to face Isolde.
【Special Body Part Transport Contract】
【Buyer: Duke Valen Sylvian】
【Item: One High-Tier Holy Body】
【Deposit: Paid】
【Remaining Balance: Pending Collection】
The moment Isolde saw the words “Remaining Balance,” she realized this wasn't some free welcome package.
“Valen is already dead,” she said, her tone gentle. “You can go collect it from him in person.”
Ur spread his hands, the painted smile on his mask seeming to widen.
“Alas, noble lady, according to Article Thirty-Seven of the contract, if the buyer passes away, their successor shall inherit the remaining debt.”
As he spoke, his neck twisted stiffly, and the white mask slowly turned toward her.
“And you are now the new master of the castle.”
Isolde rolled her eyes internally. She had been completely in the dark, yet a debt was being forced onto her. How was this any different from predatory lending?
“Are all of you wandering merchants this shameless?”
Ur raised his hand, tapping his fingers lightly against his white, smiling mask.
“Noble lady, the face is fake, but the contract is real.”
Isolde: “...”
It was the first time she had ever heard someone dress up shamelessness with such commercial elegance.
Ur added in a slow, unhurried manner:
“Furthermore, wandering merchants do not make a living off their faces.”
He bowed slightly, placing his right hand over his heart like a devout believer.
“We rely on the honesty of our transactions, the fairness of our terms, and the occasional benevolent smile of the God of Contracts.”
Isolde was almost amused by his audacity.
“You call this a benevolent smile?”
“Of course,” Ur said. “Had the God not smiled upon you, what you would be facing now would not be a remaining balance, but the backlash of a breached contract.”
Isolde stared at the roll of parchment.
“So in other words, Valen placed the order, Valen died, and I'm left holding the bag?”
“To be precise, you have inherited Duke Valen's castle, authority, legacy, and all the outstanding obligations he left behind.”
Ur's voice was gentle. “When it comes to inheritance, one does not get to cherry-pick the good from the bad.”
Isolde smiled. “And what if I don't want this body?”
Ur replied instantly, “The goods have already been delivered.”
“I didn't sign for them.”
“The castle gates have been opened.”
“That was out of politeness.”
“Politeness is also part of the reception.”
“Does your God of Contracts specialize in harboring con artists?”
Ur raised his head, the smile on his mask remaining completely static.
“Con artists distort the facts. Merchants merely highlight them selectively.”
Isolde: “...”
She finally understood.
This man wasn't just shameless; he had welded the words “shady merchant” directly onto his face.
Isolde had only just gotten rid of Valen. Before she could fully savor the joy of inheriting the castle, becoming the boss, and starting her new life on easy mode, reality had slapped her with a bill.
A person could be reborn, but debts did not simply vanish. The old adage of a daughter paying her father's debts had actually become a reality for her.
Isolde took a deep breath, striving to maintain her elegant image as the new master of the castle.
“Fine. Let's inspect the goods first.”
She wanted to see if the “materials” Valen had spent a fortune ordering were actually worth her paying for.
Ur seemed to have been waiting for those words. He raised his hand and snapped his fingers.
Drawers on both sides of the cabin popped open simultaneously. Countless slender, withered branches wriggled out like a swarm of well-trained arms, wrapping around a massive coffin hidden behind the pile of sundries.
The coffin hit the ground, causing the earth to tremble slightly.
The surface of the coffin was carved with moon patterns, its four corners secured with cold-iron nails, and white mist seeped continuously from the seams.
The moment the mist touched the ground, it immediately condensed into thin layers of frost.
Isolde narrowed her eyes slightly. “What's inside?”
Ur lightly raised a finger.
The withered branches deftly pried open the cold iron and pushed aside the coffin lid.
The moment the lid slid open, a wave of biting cold billowed out, as if someone had stuffed an entire winter night right in front of the castle gates.
Lia stepped forward silently and draped a plush cloak over Isolde's shoulders.
Isolde instinctively murmured, “Thank you.”
She quickly redirected her attention to the coffin.
She looked down, and in the next instant, her pupils contracted.
Lying inside the coffin was the shattered body of a unicorn.
Its entire body was covered in dried bloodstains, its once-silky, lustrous coat tangled into a matted mess. Clear cut marks marred its chest, abdomen, and limbs.
The silver-gold horn that should have adorned its forehead lay broken to the side, its fractured edge covered in dark patterns as if corrupted by some dark power.
Isolde had heard of unicorns in her past life.
In this world, unicorns were extremely rare holy beasts.
They were close to the Holy Light, possessing a natural suppression against the undead, decay, and dark arts.
No matter how she looked at it, such a creature should never have appeared on Valen's shopping list.
What did Valen want it for?
Was he trying to serve himself a palate cleanser before starting his own feast?
As if sensing her confusion, Ur took the initiative to introduce it:
“The last adult Mooncrown Unicorn of the North.”
“Its blood can purify corruption, its bones can channel Holy spells, and its horn can shatter dark barriers. If used for equipment modification or potion brewing, it is also a legendary-grade core material.”
At this point, Ur's tone grew noticeably cheerful.
“Duke Valen originally intended to embed fragments of its horn into his own spine.”
He spread his hands slightly. “Unfortunately, he did not live to see the delivery.”
Isolde looked at the corpse.
A gray light screen slowly manifested before her eyes.
【Special Body: Mooncrown Unicorn】
【Quality: Legendary】
【Status: Dead】
【Note: This body retains a lingering Echo of Last Wishes.】
【Echo: If the name of holiness shall ultimately bring disaster, I shall drink deep of curses and defile the final dawn of the sacred altar.】
Isolde's gaze froze slightly.
She had originally thought that even in death, a unicorn's last wish would be standard lines like “may the Holy Light shine upon all,” “forgive all living beings,” or “may there be no more darkness in the world.”
Yet every single word before her was filled with hatred. In fact, even the word “hatred” felt too light to describe it.
Isolde lowered her eyes, looking at the broken horn.
That horn should have been as clean as moonlight, but now it seemed to have been blackened inch by inch by resentment.
She asked softly, “How did it die?”
Ur seemed to have been waiting for this question. His voice behind the white mask remained polite, even carrying an unsettling touch of lightheartedness:
“Noble lady, unicorns are extremely difficult to capture, especially alive.”
“They are kind, pure, detest filth, and rarely venture into human territory. However, this species possesses a fatal weakness.”
Isolde looked up. “What is it?”
Ur slowly tilted his head.
“Memory.”
“Before dying, every Mooncrown Unicorn transmits everything they last saw, heard, and felt to their surviving kin.”
Isolde frowned. “How is that a weakness?”
“Of course it is.”
Ur chuckled softly.
“Because what is transmitted is not just memory.”
He looked at the unicorn in the coffin, his voice slowing down.
“It is also fear, pain, regret, despair, and hatred.”
“With the death of one, the remaining kin carry the weight of another death.”
“If ten die, it hears ten wails. If a hundred die, it experiences a hundred massacres first-hand.”
Ur paused for a moment, his voice turning heavy like a low chant. “And if it is the very last one...”
The painted smile on his mask looked exceptionally eerie through the mist.
“Noble lady, what do you think it would do?”
Isolde murmured, “Seek revenge.”
Ur snapped his fingers cheerfully.
“Correct. It sought revenge, but unfortunately, it failed.”
Isolde frowned. “They tortured it?”
Ur tilted his head. “For a very long time.”
“I had to strike a deal with the guards just to salvage this broken carcass.”
Ur's tone shifted, turning as breezy as if he had finally flipped to the pricing page.
“Therefore, the price, naturally, cannot be cheap.”
Isolde looked up at him. “Are you trying to take credit with me?”
“Of course not,” Ur said, bowing politely. “Merchants never take credit.”
“Merchants merely factor every cost honestly into the price.”
Isolde was speechless.
The heavy emotions she had just felt were almost kicked right out of her by that single sentence.
This man truly had a talent.
One second he was narrating an epic tragedy, and the next, he seamlessly pivoted back to expense reimbursement.
Was this the ugly face of a capitalist?
Isolde took a breath and looked back at the Mooncrown Unicorn.
It was already dead.
Yet that Echo of Last Wishes still lingered like an unextinguished fire, buried deep within its broken remains.
Isolde withdrew her gaze and looked at Ur.
“I'll take the goods. How much is the remaining balance?”
Rate on N.U.
