Ivory Haven

  The place was the pinnacle of exclusivity in Luminaris. Located in the highest district of the city, where the air smelled less of desert and more of expensive perfumes, the establishment served as a refuge for the powerful and influential figures of the city.

  It was famous for being one of the only extremely secure places where the elite could meet

  The service was also impeccable, and the banquets were prepared with delicacies that even the city's main markets did not dare display.

  "What a shitty night..." Elias, the night-shift receptionist, adjusted his silk vest for the tenth time, feeling the weight of exhaustion.

  He truly hated this job.

  His day had been a succession of arrogant adventurers complaining about trivial things and newly rich merchants who thought gold solved everything.

  The worst part was that they really could.

  "Why do I still do this?" Elias muttered to himself, snorting as he wiped an invisible stain from the mahogany counter. "Petty people don't leave generous tips..."

  Tlink!

  The crystal bell at the entrance rang with a soft, harmonic note.

  A new customer!

  Elias immediately forced his best professional smile, the one he had trained to appear welcoming, but slightly superior.

  However, when he saw who had entered, his smile faltered.

  The figure that crossed the double doors wore neither expensive silks nor ornate adventurer armor. He wore common boots and trousers, along with a dark cloak that looked like it had seen far too much dust.

  The first thing Elias noticed was not the face, but the complete lack of insignias or crests on his body.

  Elias instinctively wrinkled his nose.

  The figure practically screamed low-rank adventurer.

  'Another one who got lost on the way to the low-class inns...' Elias sighed internally. Despite thinking that, he could already feel a sense of pleasure beginning to bubble in his chest.

  Occasionally, dazzled newcomers tried to cross that threshold, drawn by the Haven's imposing fa?ade. They entered with curious eyes, unaware that the floor beneath their feet cost more than their ancestors' lives.

  For Elias, those were the best moments of his shift.

  It was the only time when he, the "luxury lackey" could reverse the roles. He loved seeing the look of shame on the face of a strong warrior or an apprentice mage when they realized that, in that environment, they could not afford even a glass of water.

  He was already preparing the standard dismissal line, polished enough not to break protocol, but sharp enough to leave a scar on the intruder's ego.

  Elias cleared his throat, straightening his vest, ready to deliver the verbal blow.

  "Good evening, sir." He began, his tone carrying barely disguised arrogance. "Ivory Haven is a members-only establishment, strictly by reservation. May I help you find your way back to lodgings more suited to your profile?"

  That was his discreet way of saying "you do not belong here."

  He was very good at it.

  "?"

  The figure stopped, giving him a confused look.

  Elias frowned.

  Had he not understood his 'polite cue' to leave?

  If the intruder was slow-witted, then there was no need to remain subtle.

  "Sir, perhaps I was not clear." Elias said, leaning slightly over the counter with a mocking smile. "This is not a place for those who count copper coins to afford dinner. Our reservation fees begin at amounts that would make an ordinary man pale. I suggest you leave before I am forced to call the guards."

  The man's expression seemed to shift slightly. "I have money." He replied with a simplicity that almost made Elias laugh out loud.

  Money?

  He looked again at the dusty cloak and worn boots. That man's "money" was probably a few dozen gold coins.

  Which would already be a lot for a common adventurer, but here, it would not even pay for a full meal.

  Elias opened his mouth to deliver a final insult, but the sound that followed froze his tongue.

  Clink! Clink! Clink! Clink! Clink!

  Five bluish-white metal discs rolled across the mahogany, stopping right beneath Elias's nose. They gleamed with a prismatic luminescence, emitting a cold glow.

  It was impossible not to stare.

  'Platinum?' The thought crossed Elias's mind like lightning, followed by a silent curse he would never dare say aloud. 'Holy shit!'

  Elias felt his stomach lurch.

  A big shot!

  He had encountered a big shot!

  Each of those coins was worth 10,000 silver coins.

  Five of them meant 50,000 silver. His monthly salary as a receptionist was 50 silver coins, which was already considered a good wage in Luminaris if you were an ordinary civilian.

  To earn what was sitting on that counter, Elias would have to work for 1,000 months.

  Or 83 years.

  More than 83 years of work without spending a single coin. That stranger had just tossed the value of a lifetime of servitude onto the table as if discarding seed husks.

  "Is this enough?" The man's voice was calm, devoid of any anger.

  Elias felt his face burn, a deep red rising up his neck. The air around him seemed to vanish. It felt like he had just been slapped across the face.

  The "dismissal line" He had prepared now sounded like the barking of a stray dog.

  "Y-yes... Sir..." Elias stammered, his voice faltering as his posture instinctively bent into automatic submission. "It... it is more than enough. I sincerely apologize for my... my insolence."

  Elias stared at the five platinum coins on the mahogany counter.

  His hands trembled slightly. He did not dare touch them without permission, the prismatic shine of the metal seeming to burn his vision.

  Mark looked at the employee and sighed inwardly.

  At that moment, he only wanted the best hot meal and the softest bed his money could buy.

  Despite the man's attitude displeasing him, he did not bother reacting.

  Using force would be disproportionate, so he used money.

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  Even though he had been in Luminaris for only a short time, he understood that appearance mattered when entering and leaving places. Being misjudged by an employee had already been within his expectations.

  Beneath the cloak, Pippin did not share his patience. Mark felt the creature stir, its tiny claws tightening against his shoulder in contained fury.

  To Pippin, the employee's insolence was a direct affront to his master's dignity, and his desire was to leap out and teach the receptionist the true meaning of fear.

  Mark simply pressed his arm against his body, a silent command for Pippin to remain hidden.

  "Do I still need a reservation?" Mark said suddenly, his voice monotone.

  Elias quickly snapped out of his daze. "N-no. A reservation is not necessary..."

  Internally, Elias's mind was screaming that he needed to fix this immediately.

  Someone who carried a fortune and did not bother taking offense at an insult was the kind of person who could pull invisible strings to make him disappear from the city before dawn!

  The fear of losing his job, or his own head, was what triggered his instant servitude.

  He had struck an iron wall.

  "Please forgive me for the disastrous reception, sir." Elias whispered carefully, his voice now soft and servile, as he stepped out from behind the counter to stand beside Mark, keeping a respectful distance.

  With a quick and extremely careful motion, he used a small silver tray lined with velvet to collect the coins from the counter. Elias kept them on the tray, holding it with both hands as if carrying a sacred relic.

  "I will open an account for you immediately." He explained, bowing again. "Tonight's expenses, and however many nights you wish, will be deducted from this amount. The remainder will be kept in our vault, under total security and at your disposal at any time."

  Mark simply nodded, indifferent to the fate of the coins.

  He had many.

  "What would you like first? A private suite, or would you prefer to be escorted directly to our restaurant on the upper floor? We have the finest wine in the region!"

  Mark looked toward the staircase, his ears catching the soft sound of music and conversation.

  "The table with the best view." he ordered. "Bring whatever is best."

  "Yes!"

  "This building is entirely dedicated to our gastronomic wing, sir." Elias explained, ascending the steps with light strides as he guided Mark.

  "The Ivory Haven holds the Three-Crystal Seal from the Appraisers' Guild. An honor that only two other establishments in all of Luminaris can boast. Each dish is a work of art infused with rare essences."

  "..."

  Mark listened in silence, observing the details of the adorned walls.

  It was curious that, even in a world where the desert outside was merciless and monsters roamed the trade routes, there was room for such a sophisticated system and demand for services like these.

  Wherever there was a concentration of gold and people with power, luxury was the next logical consequence.

  He had seen it before, though in different contexts. The pursuit of pleasure and exclusivity was a language that did not change, no matter the era, level, or world.

  In his original life, he would never have had access to such things. Frequenting luxurious places and seeing what money could do had been beyond his reach. But in this life, through Vaelin, he now had that opportunity in this new world.

  And the feeling was not unpleasant.

  As they climbed, the sound of silver cutlery and low murmurs grew clearer.

  When they stepped onto the restaurant level, the atmosphere changed drastically.

  The restaurant occupied a vast, circular hall, where the desert heat was replaced by a refreshing artificial breeze carrying a sweet aroma.

  On the ceiling, mana crystals emitted a soft golden glow, bathing the dark wooden furnishings and marble details that completely insulated the noise of the streets.

  At the scattered tables sat various men and women, some dressed in silk robes threaded with gold, others with fingers heavy with gleaming rings.

  They paused their conversations for a moment. The clinking of cutlery softened as Mark walked past.

  These people looked at him with a mixture of curiosity and distrust.

  Mark looked like someone who had wandered by mistake into a garden of peacocks.

  His travel clothes, though clean, were far too simple for the place.

  "Your table, sir." Elias said, stopping before a table and pulling out the deep-blue velvet chair with exaggerated devotion.

  Sitting down, Mark dismissed the menu with a brief gesture. "Bring the best the kitchen has."

  "Certainly! We will prepare a banquet worthy of your presence." Elias bowed one last time and hurried off to relay the orders.

  Mark remained alone in the corner.

  The atmosphere around him slowly filled again with low murmurs. Sitting there without companions made him seem even more out of place. He felt the discreet stares burning into his back, but he did not care.

  "Expected more..." Pippin's whisper came from beneath the cloak, so faint that only Mark could hear it.

  A nearly imperceptible smile appeared on his lips. He did not know whether Pippin said it out of lingering displeasure with the receptionist or simply because he was accustomed to the grandeur of the Ziggurat.

  Still, he had to agree with his servant.

  Only now, seated in that velvet chair, did Mark realize that his Ziggurat was truly luxurious by human standards.

  What he had once seen merely as his base, with its vast halls and impossible architecture, now gleamed vividly in his memory.

  Sometimes it was necessary to step outside, to immerse oneself in the real world, to finally appreciate what one had.

  Mark tapped his fingers against the linen tablecloth, his eyes fixed on the glass window, lost in thought.

  Below, the view was truly interesting.

  From above, he could see the wide streets paved with pale stone in the noble district, gleaming under lantern light. Luxurious carriages, pulled by exotic creatures such as lizards and desert horse breeds, glided unhurriedly between mansions and suspended gardens.

  It was a stark contrast to the damp, narrow alleys he had walked through only hours earlier.

  Here, even the air seemed cleaner.

  Elias returned minutes later, carrying a crystal bottle whose liquid shimmered in a deep amber hue.

  "The city seems more restless than usual for this hour." Mark commented casually, merely testing the waters.

  "Yes, this is a... peculiar time for our city." Elias replied quickly, leaning slightly as he filled Mark's crystal glass with a smile.

  Like a cornered animal trying to regain its master's favor, Elias saw in Mark's curiosity the perfect chance to be useful.

  If he could become that man's personal informant, perhaps the blunder at the entrance would be forgotten—or better yet, replaced by a generous future tip.

  This was the golden opportunity he needed.

  Elias adopted a conspiratorial posture, sensing information was his only way to redeem himself.

  "With what is happening in the East, many Solis nobles and high-ranking merchants are seeking refuge or conducting business here. Luminaris has never been so crowded."

  "And never so tense."

  At that moment, a voice interrupted. One of the men at the neighboring table, a middle-aged man with a gold monocle and an emblem on his chest, turned toward Mark.

  Elias froze in place.

  His mouth, which had been open to spill more information, closed into a thin line as his shoulders stiffened. The interruption irritated him deeply, but upon recognizing the man, his irritation was replaced with caution.

  He had already made a catastrophic mistake with Mark; offending another powerful figure on the same night would be the definitive end of his career.

  Elias simply stepped back, remaining silent, his hands folded before him like a wax statue.

  Mark slowly swirled his glass. He was not bothered by the interruption.

  His gaze shifted to the man, lingering for a moment on the golden symbol of a coin minted with an eight-pointed star shining on his chest.

  The man straightened his posture, sensing Mark's scrutiny, and offered a diplomatic smile, though his eyes gleamed with shrewdness.

  "My apologies, where are my manners? I am Alden, master treasurer of the Merchant Coalition." The man introduced himself with a slight nod, still seated at his table.

  "We handle supply logistics for the garrisons. As you can imagine, the 'rumors' from the East are of great interest to me. And you would be...?"

  Mark was slightly surprised but remained cautious. "Vaelin." He replied shortly. "I am an adventurer."

  The word adventurer seemed to echo strangely in that environment.

  Alden froze for a moment, his smile stiffening slightly at the response.

  An adventurer?

  He adjusted his monocle and began evaluating Mark with renewed, meticulous attention.

  His eyes scanned the dark cloak, searching for a rank brooch, identification plate, or any guild seal that could justify an adventurer's presence in that place.

  But he found nothing.

  "An adventurer, you say?" Alden repeated, his tone rising slightly in surprise. "Well, I am familiar with most Gold Rank and the few Platinum Rank individuals who possess the funds to frequent the city's finest establishments."

  He paused briefly before continuing. "And you are not in my recollection... which leads me to believe you come from distant lands?"

  'Oh?' Mark looked at the old man, evaluating him in return.

  The old man was somewhat shrewd.

  "I just arrived in Luminaris." He did not try to hide the truth, giving a slight nod before bringing the glass to his lips and taking a sip.

  "Just arrived in Luminaris?"

  However, Mark's comment was like a stone thrown into a still lake.

  At the adjacent tables, the clinking of cutlery diminished once again.

  Some nobles and merchants who had pretended not to listen now cast even more suspicious glances toward Mark.

  A stranger without identification who had just crossed the city gates during a time of heightened alert was enough to make their minds conjure truly absurd scenarios.

  Luminaris lived under the shadow of paranoia.

  In times of near war, a stranger without insignias, crest, or identification who entered the city and headed straight to the elite's refuge perfectly fit the profile of a destabilizing agent.

  He could very well be a potential threat.

  Spies from the Solis Empire, hired assassins taking advantage of the refugee chaos, or worse—practitioners of forbidden arts.

  Rumors claimed that practitioners of forbidden arts could conceal their aura so flawlessly that they could pass through the city's mana sensors without triggering a single alarm.

  Such individuals could already be walking among them.

  Mark, seated there with a cloak concealing his silhouette and an expression of indifference bordering on disrespect, seemed to fit the rumors all too well.

  Alden felt the atmosphere shift.

  The fact that he was an outsider made the air too heavy for casual dinner conversation. The merchant let out a dry, uncomfortable cough, leaning slightly back in his chair.

  "I see... a newcomer." Alden murmured, dabbing his lips with a napkin. "Well, Luminaris is a vast and neutral city. I hope... your stay will be fruitful."

  Alden quickly turned back to his companion, abruptly ending the interaction and focusing intensely on his plate, as if trying to become invisible to the pale, suspicious man before him.

  '???'

  Mark observed the sudden change in behavior. The silence and sideways glances from the other tables made something clear...

  'Am I suspicious?'

  He had said nothing wrong or taboo, so that was the only conclusion he could reach. However, now he had confirmation of something that had been bothering him this entire time.

  If he wanted to move freely without being escorted by guards or watched at every corner, he needed an official identity.

  'I need to secure an identity soon…'