Mattheus had 252,000 SP.
A quarter of a million came from Tony’s more-than-generous tip, while the rest were his savings.
It was more money than Mattheus had ever had at one time, and he intended to spend every last bit of it.
Responsibly, of course.
His pub was barely ten square meters: a tiny room containing one counter, three stools, and enough space for a handful of customers to stand without breathing directly into one another’s faces.
It had been enough to get started, but calling it a proper pub would have been insulting to pubs everywhere.
Mattheus opened the upgrade menu and dragged the expansion slider upward until it reached sixty-five square meters.
Expand Floor: 10 m² → 65 m²
Price: 110,000 SP
He stared at the confirmation button for nearly a minute.
Spending nearly half of his money with a single tap…
It’s an investment, he told himself.
To make money, you gotta spend money.
Mattheus took a deep breath and pressed the button.
110K SP vanished in a flash—quite literally.
White light flooded the pub.
The walls rushed away from him, the ceiling rose, and the floor stretched outward until they reached the size and design he had paid for.
Mattheus slowly turned in place, taking it all in.
“All right,” he murmured.
“Now we’re getting somewhere.”
He opened the decorating interface, and that was when the real suffering began.
Expanding the pub had taken less than a minute but deciding what to put inside it consumed the next several hours.
The Store offered millions of options.
Tables, chairs, counters, lamps, shelves, floorboards, wall panels, decorations, kitchen appliances, bathroom fixtures, and countless other things he had never realized came in so many different varieties.
There were over three thousand kinds of wooden bar stools.
Nobody needed that many choices.
Mattheus could build a rustic medieval tavern, a modern cocktail lounge, an Irish pub, a Japanese izakaya, a dwarven alehouse, or something called an Eldritch Drinking Hall, whose description promised an unforgettable experience while avoiding any mention of whether customers would leave with their sanity (or body) intact.
He briefly considered it—very briefly (as a prank/punishment for several of the local psychos, but Joker and the several other nutjobs might actually enjoy the Eldritch experience, so he discarded the idea).
For the next several hours, Mattheus placed furniture, removed it, changed the floor, adjusted the lighting, replaced the decorations, and then changed the floor again because the new decorations clashed with it.
At one point, he spent twenty minutes choosing between two shades of dark brown that looked exactly the same.
They were not the same—one was Smoked Walnut, while the other was Midnight Chestnut.
Completely different.
By the time he finally committed to a layout, Mattheus had developed a stomachache and a deep, personal hatred for interior design.
Still, the result was worth it.
Dark wooden floorboards stretched from the entrance to the rear of the building.
Matching wooden panels covered the lower half of the walls, while thick beams crossed the ceiling, giving the room a warm, old-fashioned charm.
Soft amber lamps lined the walls, joined by several green-shaded lights hanging above the bar and tables.
Together, they bathed the room in a comfortable glow without making it so dark that customers needed enhanced vision to find their food.
An L-shaped oak bar occupied most of the left side of the pub.
It was far larger than his original counter, with enough room for several people to work behind it without constantly crashing into one another.
Mattheus did not have several employees—he did not have a single employee—but he preferred to plan ahead.
A row of red-cushioned stools stood before the bar, their brass footrests shining beneath the lights.
Behind the counter, wooden shelves displayed bottles of liquor, spirits, wine, and neatly arranged glasses.
Several large barrels rested above them, adding to the traditional atmosphere.
The taps alone had almost caused Mattheus to reconsider the entire design, as there were eight of them.
He did not need eight different drinks on tap.
He barely had enough customers to justify one, but the long row of shiny brass handles looked far too good for him to remove any.
He could always find something to put in them later—he had a Store with literally anything in the multiverse.
Running out of beverage options was the least of his future problems.
The right side of the room held several sturdy wooden tables with matching chairs.
Most were meant for three or four people, though two of the larger tables could be pushed together for groups.
Mattheus left a broad aisle through the center so customers and (future) staff could move around without bumping into chairs—or one another.
Near the rear of the bar, a doorway led into the kitchen.
The kitchen was not particularly large, but it had everything he needed: oven, burners, refrigerator, freezer, dishwasher, storage cabinets, a preparation counter, and enough cookware to feed dozens of customers.
Whether Mattheus could actually cook for dozens of customers was an entirely different question (he had not yet died of food poisoning after living on his own for more than a year, so he had some faith in his cooking skills).
A wooden staircase beside the kitchen climbed toward the newly created second floor.
Near the stairs, tucked into the corner, another door opened into a short hallway.
Two more doors waited inside, one marked for men and the other for women.
Proper toilets.
Mattheus had nearly wept when he placed them.
The walls were the final touch.
He decorated them with framed photographs, old advertisements, landscape paintings, and several chalkboards announcing nonexistent daily specials.
None of it was particularly valuable, but together the decorations gave the pub character (it looked like somewhere people had been eating, drinking, and complaining about their lives for decades).
Mattheus stood near the entrance and admired his work.
The pub was warm without being cramped, traditional without looking old, and classy without appearing too expensive for ordinary people.
A broad smile spread across his face.
“Perfect.”
The furniture, decorations, kitchen equipment, and enough food and alcohol to fully stock the pub had cost 65,000 SP.
Combined with the expansion, the ground-floor makeover came to 175,000 SP.
Mattheus looked at the number, then he looked around the pub again.
“Worth it.”
He climbed the stairs to work on the second floor.
Calling what he had planned an apartment would have been generous.
It would not have a kitchen or dining room, but Mattheus already had both downstairs.
Paying for rooms he could reach by walking down a single flight of stairs seemed like a waste of SP.
What he needed was a bedroom, a bathroom, and somewhere private to sit and work—a suite, essentially.
Creating the second-floor space cost another 42,000 SP.
Mattheus winced as the number disappeared from his balance.
He was beginning to understand why people renovating houses always looked so tired.
Once the purchase was complete, he started decorating again.
Thankfully, the suite had needs, which meant fewer opportunities to spend half an hour comparing nearly identical pieces of furniture.
A comfortable double bed sat near a pair of wide windows, with a padded bench at its foot.
Beside it stood a wardrobe/small walk-in closet.
The closet was larger than he strictly needed, considering most of his wardrobe currently consisted of T-shirts and shorts, but the Store offered clothing from every imaginable world, and Mattheus preferred to plan for the future.
A television was mounted on the opposite wall.
He did not buy the upgrade that connected it to channels from the DC Universe.
It was expensive, and Mattheus was not sure he wanted Gotham’s news playing inside his bedroom anyway.
The local weather forecast probably alternated between rain, clouds, and citywide supervillain attack.
Instead, he downloaded several shows and films.
A water dispenser stood nearby, capable of producing either hot or cold water.
Mattheus often became thirsty in the middle of the night, and he liked drinking tea while reading or working.
Walking downstairs whenever he wanted water would have become annoying very quickly.
Yes, he could have carried a bottle upstairs.
Yes, he had an inventory.
No, that was not the point.
His family had owned a water dispenser when he was younger, he had always liked it, and now he had enough money to buy one.
That was all the justification he needed.
An open section of the wall led into a small study containing a wooden desk, a comfortable chair, and several shelves.
It was everything Mattheus needed for managing the pub, playing games, reading, or staring at his balance while wondering where all his money had gone.
The bathroom was compact but modern.
It had a glass-enclosed shower, a toilet, and a sink beneath a mirrored cabinet.
Everything was arranged to make the most of the available space.
Near the entrance, a built-in closet concealed a washing machine, a dryer, and several shelves for laundry supplies.
Mattheus examined the completed bathroom, stepped into the shower, and turned it on.
Warm water immediately poured over his hand, and he almost moaned.
No more cleaning himself with bottled water and wet towels.
No more shitting in a bucket.
Civilization had returned, and it felt heavenly.
The windows were the strangest part of the suite because they did not lead anywhere.
When Mattheus first tried to open one, the app informed him that the windows were display surfaces rather than actual openings.
The pub existed within its own isolated dimension.
It was connected to Gotham through the entrance door, but it was not physically located anywhere in that universe—or any other universe, for that matter.
There was literally nothing outside the walls.
Mattheus stepped away from the window.
That was not a thought he intended to examine too closely.
Fortunately, he could choose whatever appeared beyond the glass.
He spent several minutes experimenting with the available options.
A rainy Gotham skyline appeared first, followed by a sunny beach, a snow-covered forest, and a mountain lake beneath a brilliant blue sky.
He could even adjust the weather and time of day independently.
Mattheus briefly changed the view to outer space only to change it back almost immediately when he saw a weird shape floating in the distance.
It was just a projection, he told himself.
In the end, he chose a peaceful view of rolling green hills beneath a clear afternoon sky.
Creating the suite had cost 42,000 SP.
Furnishing it, stocking the bathroom, and filling the wardrobe with a proper selection of clothes took another 9,500.
Mattheus checked his remaining balance.
Remaining Balance: 25,500 SP
After taking a long, almost obscenely satisfying shower, Mattheus pulled on clean clothes and fell backward onto his new bed.
The mattress caught him like a cloud, and for several minutes he stared at the ceiling.
“Home, sweet home.”
Mattheus released a long, satisfied breath and sank deeper into the mattress, closing his eyes.