Joen walked to the front of the stage and pulled five bright Gold Kurons from his pocket.
He tossed them into the donation box, deciding to encourage the pair.
Clink.
The sound of the coins hitting the bottom of the box was crisp and melodic.
The surrounding crowd suddenly quieted down, and the brother and sister stretched their necks to look into the box.
Inside, there had only been a thin layer of copper coins and two Silver Coins, so the five gold ones looked exceptionally dazzling.
The two siblings froze, then were overcome with ecstasy.
They grabbed Joen and dragged him to the front of the stage, half-coaxing and half-flattering him, eager to use him as a promotional example.
Just then, a mustached noble walked by with his arm around a heavily made-up lover.
The sister grabbed Joen, then turned to the noble with hostility and shouted:
“Look! An ordinary citizen brother has donated so much money! What about you noble masters who act so high and mighty every day? Where is your conscience? Even this handsome young man can donate five Gold Coins; since you are older than him and have a vast fortune, donating a bit more wouldn’t be too much to ask, right?”
The mustached noble knew they were trying to extort him.
He had originally intended to toss them a few copper coins, planning to leave behind a sarcastic remark to shut the mouths of these street ruffians before he left.
However, upon hearing “five Gold Coins,” he sneered and turned to walk away.
“You really have gone crazy for money! Five Gold Coins? That’s enough for me to sleep with trash like you one or two hundred times! You’ve got a lot of nerve! Only a fool would donate!”
Joen ignored the noble’s sarcasm.
He just stared intently at the siblings and asked:
“Are you truly soliciting donations for the Doom Victims?”
The brother and sister exchanged a meaningful look, then patted their chests in assurance:
“Um… of course! We feel so bad for the victims! We swear it on our family honor!”
Joen gave the two a deep look, but said nothing more.
He silently left a strand of his own Magic Power on both the Gold Coins and the two individuals so he could quickly track them with detection Magic if necessary.
Fundraising was undoubtedly a way to gather disaster relief.
However, judging by the maid’s words, the Church was not trustworthy, and Yuna’s performance had also left him disappointed in the Church.
If these two siblings really had this ability and such a grand ambition, he wouldn’t mind providing help to ensure their fundraising efforts could go further.
But help was one thing, and his previous experiences had taught Joen to be cautious. After leaving the mark, Joen smiled:
“Good. I will come to find you again when I have time. When that happens, we will discuss how to use the Hero’s reputation to solicit donations from the nobles in the city.”
With that, he turned and left, rushing to his appointment with the Tulip Duke.
Watching Joen’s back disappear, the brother immediately changed his face, picked up the Gold Coins, and drooled:
“We’re rich! We’re rich! There really is such a sucker! Let’s go! Sis! Tonight, brother will treat you to a big meal!”
The sister hesitated: “Brother… is this really okay? I feel like that man was serious, and he seemed like a good person. Is it not a bit dishonest for us to swindle a good person’s money?”
“Then what do you propose we do? Should we really hand it over to the Hero? How would that be any different from handing it over to other nobles to squander? It’s better that it benefits us siblings. Saving one family is saving a family, and helping us escape poverty isn’t exactly a bad deed, right?”
The brother said with a smirk.
“But—”
“No more ‘buts’! Even if he finds us, so what? Could he possibly bring the Hero here to beat us up? Hahaha!”
The sister looked away, giving up: “Fine, eat the big meal, then. Do whatever you want, eat! I don’t care anymore.”
However, before the two siblings could finish feeling smug, a burly man emerged from the shadows and slapped each of them hard across the face.
“How much have you begged for? Did you pay today’s quota?”
The brother hurriedly fished a large handful of copper coins from the donation box and respectfully offered them to the burly man:
“Master, business wasn’t good today, we didn’t manage to beg for much… This is a token of our respect for you.”
On the other side, the sister tried to hide the coins, but the burly man snatched them away with quick reflexes.
The burly man saw the Gold Coins, his pupils dilated, and the corners of his mouth turned upward uncontrollably.
“Heh… I was wondering why you little brat was so generous today. It turns out you hit the jackpot.”
“Let me tell you, our gang’s rules are very strict. If you dare to pull a stunt like this again, I’ll make you look like her.”
The burly man pointed to the other side of the street—a young beggar girl with both legs broken, blind, and ears cut off.
“Do you understand?”
“W-we understand.”
The two siblings were shaking like chaff.
“Fine.”
The burly man tossed two Silver Coins back, his tone turning somewhat milder.
“This kind of clever scheme is for the talented. Not like those other people, who are just stupid and ugly. As long as you keep your wits about you, come up with ways to borrow the Hero’s name, and pull off your schemes, the gang won’t treat you unfairly if you just do as you’re told.”
“Thank you, Master, you are so kind.”
The brother hurriedly knelt and kowtowed, repeatedly hitting his head until the skin broke and the ground was stained with blood before he slowed down slightly.
The burly man left, feeling satisfied.
The siblings held the two Silver Coins, having experienced such highs and lows that they were beyond tears.
—
Meanwhile, Joen arrived at the place he had agreed to meet Constantine.
It was a large bridge spanning the canal.
The bridge was bustling with people, crowded and prosperous, with vendors shouting their wares on both sides.
In front of an inconspicuous baked flatbread stall at the head of the bridge, Joen saw the legendary Tulip Duke again.
Constantine was wearing a simple, white-washed outfit and was laughing while haggling with the stall owner.
Seeing Joen arrive, he skillfully handed him half of a freshly bought, hot flatbread.
“You’re here? Here, have a taste, this place has the most authentic flavor.”
Joen took the flatbread and took a bite; it was crispy on the outside and tender on the inside, truly delicious.
Constantine was a very energetic old man.
Although his face was filled with the ravages of time, he didn’t care at all, and his eyes were clear and sharp.
In a world where magic users were generally attractive, he seemed completely out of place.
He was the same age as the Emperor, yet he looked more like the Emperor’s father’s generation.
Behind the Duke followed an expressionless man, tall and thin, with a longsword at his waist and a cold, icy temperament.
Constantine took the initiative to introduce him:
“This is my adopted son, Romanod. This kid doesn’t know how to interact with people well; he is very introverted and a mute. Joen, please don’t mind him.”
“I am not, Father,” Romanod interrupted coldly.
“Then I will correct myself: most of the time, he is a mute,” Constantine chuckled.
This time, Romanod did not object.
Joen had originally thought that Constantine would be like other nobles, taking him back to his residence to hold a luxurious and complicated private banquet, or going to a famous old-established shop in the Empire Capital, or drinking tea and tasting delicacies while elegantly directing the country’s affairs.
However, everything progressed in a way that exceeded his expectations.
All evening, Constantine did not talk to Joen about any politics, nor did they go to any quiet, private places.
The two just leaned against the bridge railing, back to the noisy and dense crowd, eating flatbread while chatting about the customs and traditions of the Empire Capital and the news from his hometown that Joen wanted to hear.
“Look at that red brick building over there.”
Constantine pointed into the distance.
“Ten years ago, it was a theater. The tickets weren’t expensive, but the plays were very profound. My favorite was The Chronicles of the Three Cities performed there. I didn’t find it when I returned this time; it has been turned into a clothing store. What a pity.”
“And that alley entrance, there used to be an old gentleman who sold loose wine, brewed exceptionally well… Heh, much better than that so-called famous Nightberry Wine. It’s gone now, too.”
The old man’s tone was full of reflection on the passage of time, but there was no grief, only a great openness.
Finally, he looked at Joen and asked with a smile:
“You’ve been here for two days; how do you feel about the Empire Capital? Is your impression good?”
Joen finished the last bite of the flatbread and said honestly:
“Very good, very prosperous. Before I went to the Dry River Territory, I always felt that every place in the world was like our Tulip Territory. It wasn’t until I had been to the Dry River Territory that I understood why they called our Tulip Territory a ‘fairyland’.”
“But this ‘fairyland’, compared to the Empire Capital, truly seems shameful and not worthy of the name.”
Constantine was not angry; instead, he nodded with satisfaction:
“The fact that you are willing to admit it is ‘inferior’ is quite good. People are not afraid of getting sick, but they are afraid of knowing something is wrong in their hearts while being too afraid to admit it with their mouths—dying to save face and suffering for it, dragging it on until it becomes a serious illness in the end. It is the same for a country.”
Joen stopped himself, wanting to ask about the disaster relief in the Dry River Territory.
Constantine, however, seemed to see through his thoughts and jumped directly over the topic, pulling a package from his clothes.
“This is a gift from the people in your old home village that they asked me to bring to you.”
He opened the package and first took out a crude necklace with a string of blackened bear teeth hanging from it.
“What is this? A bear tooth necklace? Uncle Barn sent this?” Joen took the necklace and the more he thought about it, the happier he became, unable to keep his shoulders from trembling with laughter. “The grudge between Uncle Barn and that bear is finally over, then?”
“It is,” Constantine laughed as well.
“I saw his leg was injured, too, and he was limping. That bear skin has been hanging at the village entrance for months now, and he’s been showing it off the whole time. How did he win? The bear was too old to move, so he rushed up and shot three arrows in a row…”