I could have easily answered, “The 181-coin robber.”
But the culprit was already dead, killed by the Grim Reaper and digested in the Minotaurs’ stomachs.
Even if he had been alive, I wasn’t so low as to tattle on someone else’s disgrace to a regular customer.
“This isn’t something you need to concern yourself with, Player.”
I answered with a smile and drew my hand back. Jeong Uijin’s fingertips twitched as though he might tighten his grip, but he let go without resistance. Instead, I saw his lips press into a thin line.
As though nothing had happened, I resumed checking his purchases. Apart from the jerky and energy bars, every item was expensive. By the time I finished, the total came to nearly 10,000 coins.
Now came the transaction.
The way NPCs and Players conducted transactions was extremely simple.
An NPC only had to decide in their mind who they would trade an item to and for how much. Then a System window with the same terms would appear before the Player, and the transaction would be completed the instant the Player indicated acceptance.
The moment Jeong Uijin saw the System window that appeared at my will, he accepted it immediately. He had seemed barely to listen when I stated the total, and he appeared equally indifferent to the amount displayed in the window.
The instant the transaction was complete, Jeong Uijin picked up a healing potion.
It was as though he had been waiting only for the transaction to finish.
He opened the bottle without hesitation and held out his hand.
“Give me your wrist.”
“Yes?”
“Your injured wrist.”
The moment I realized what he intended to do, my brow twitched on its own.
I hid my aching wrist behind my back instead. Deliberately, I deepened my professional smile.
“I’m fine. It’ll be completely healed by tomorrow.”
The System of this world had made several accommodations for what people called shop NPCs. The Recognition Interference Trait, which prevented anyone from clearly perceiving an NPC’s face, and the dedicated guardian assigned to protect shop NPCs were the most obvious examples.
There were several other useful provisions as well, but in my opinion, none were better than this one.
As long as I went to sleep and woke up, any injury would be completely healed, no matter how severe.
Since it had never appeared as a separate Trait, I suspected the office-cum-bedroom beside the counter was under some kind of effect.
Jeong Uijin had to know that NPC injuries were nothing to worry about, yet he was surprisingly stubborn.
“Then that means it’ll hurt until tomorrow.”
“I only need to endure it for another two hours and thirty-four minutes.”
“Why endure it when there’s a potion right in front of you?”
“Because it isn’t something I should use.”
“I’m giving it to you. You can use it without worrying.”
If this were some elaborate game, Jeong Uijin’s stubborn goodwill would probably have translated into affinity points. Raising affinity with NPCs could earn a Player all kinds of rewards, or even valuable information they normally could not obtain. It seemed that some of the Side Quests assigned to Players worked that way too.
But I was only a simple shop NPC without an affinity stat.
If I poured a high-grade healing potion used by Players over myself just because I was hurt, it was obvious that warning windows telling me to act like an NPC would start popping up.
More than anything, there was nothing more frightening or uncomfortable than kindness offered for nothing in return.
“I don’t need it. Wasting a 500-coin potion on a mere NPC is irrational.”
The moment I answered in my usual cold tone, my entire field of vision turned red.
<Behave like a Special Supply Station NPC!>
It had appeared after all.
The sensation of my perfectly normal vision being devoured by a warning window and dyed crimson was dizzying enough to give me a headache. Beyond it, I could see Jeong Uijin staring at me with faint surprise in his eyes.
Got it. I get it.
The warning window finally vanished after I grumbled inwardly. The red afterimage still lingered in my vision, though, and I had to blink several times before I could focus again.
Seriously. It has no flexibility at all. A shop NPC can be a little prickly, can’t it?
I disliked the System’s merciless warning, but I could not say I failed to understand it. If someone tried bargaining with or threatening an NPC that bought and sold goods, the answer they received would always be fixed. They were little different from machines.
Anyone with a brain would simply buy what they needed and leave.
As though I had never been prickly in the first place, I smiled again.
“I’m sorry. I appreciate the thought.”
Jeong Uijin’s eyes narrowed faintly at my changed manner of speaking. He looked displeased.
“…All right.”
With a small sigh, he put the potion away. Then he placed every item he had just bought into the leather bag with mid-grade spatial-storage magic.
From the outside, the bag looked as though it would be full after holding two or three hardcovers. Its interior, however, was spacious enough to hold even Jeong Uijin’s long sword.
After slinging the leather bag over one shoulder, he rummaged through the inside pocket of his jacket. That pocket seemed to be connected to a small spatial storage space as well.
“Then take this, at least.”
What Jeong Uijin pulled out was a handkerchief.
It was white, bordered by gold patterns. The fabric looked exquisitely soft, like silk.
A small status window appeared before my eyes.
<Healing Handkerchief (14/15)>
It was the kind of healing item any Player fighting monsters to the death would covet.
For items like this, durability was usually tied to the number of times they could be used. Considering how little the number had decreased, it was practically brand-new.
Before I could do more than hesitate, Jeong Uijin pulled my wrist toward him and tied the handkerchief around it himself.
The knot made by his long, bony fingers was needlessly pretty.
After carefully tying it so that my wrist would not be strained, Jeong Uijin glanced at me.
“I’m not giving it to you. I’m only lending it to you for a while.”
There was a clear difference between giving something and lending it.
Jeong Uijin knew that, which was why he deliberately emphasized the word lending.
“I’ll definitely come back to get it later.”
There was an inexplicable firmness in the force of his words, and I missed my chance to refuse.
<Healing Handkerchief (13/15)>
A pleasant, prickling warmth spread from the handkerchief around my wrist, and its durability dropped by one at the same time.
Even if I removed it immediately, durability that had already been reduced would never be restored. The healing effect that had only just begun to settle into my wrist would be cut off as well.
To someone who valued efficiency, taking the handkerchief off now was no different from wasting it.
This… stubborn bastard.
I narrowed my eyes at Jeong Uijin, who had stubbornly made me feel indebted to him.
Since no warning window appeared, receiving the handkerchief itself apparently was not a problem. But if I tried to return it right away and started talking to him again, I felt as though I might make another mistake. If I saw warning windows twice in a row, I would really end up with a headache and motion sickness.
My mood was foul, and the smile on my lips grew brighter out of habit. I was probably making a rather grotesque face, but thanks to Recognition Interference, Jeong Uijin seemed to think I was simply smiling pleasantly.
“Thank you. I’ll be sure to return it when you come again.”
When I spoke while fiddling with the handkerchief around my wrist, Jeong Uijin turned away with a satisfied expression.
Nothing feels worse than being in someone’s debt…
Players who lived dangerously supposedly could never have enough of precious healing items like this.
Yet here I was, an NPC who lived more safely than anyone, using one.
When someone else owed me, I barely cared. But when I owed someone, it always left behind the worst kind of lingering unease.
In the end, I could not stand it and called out to Jeong Uijin.
“Player.”
“Yes?”
For a moment, I said nothing and simply looked at him.
Whether I had wanted it or not, Jeong Uijin had readily shown goodwill to me, a mere NPC.
The item called the Healing Handkerchief was too valuable to let this pass without doing anything. The weight of the fact that I now owed him something was no small matter either.
Before I knew it, I had opened Jeong Uijin’s status window without permission.
I wanted to see whether there was anything I could help him with.
So this is why people grind affinity with NPCs in games.
For the first time, I understood why affinity with NPCs mattered so much in games.
Though in my case, it was not affinity. It was simply a measure of how uneasy I felt.
As I skimmed through his Quest window, I soon found one that seemed worth giving him advice about.
You really should know how lucky you are to have met such a good NPC.