Evil Dragon, Without a Princess, I Had to Transform Myself!-Chapter 89 : Getting Extra Money

"Then, who's next?"
Loranhir's hand slapped onto the wooden table, causing the brimming rum to splash and adding more alcohol to the already soaked coins that needed washing in Taurant's fashion.
Tonight's arena had been quite profitable, with many curious patrons unable to resist trying their hand at wielding the holy sword.
Each sought an evening's excitement and revelry, straining with bulging veins to lift the sacred blade, only to eventually give up in frustration, tossing coins amidst the crowd's jeers before departing.
Slightly tipsy, with the night at its peak and the tavern buzzing with noise—this was that perfect moment when the small pub reached its liveliest state.
Yet as night fell, certain beings who only moved in shadows also came to join the fun.
The tavern's small wooden door was violently shoved open as an eerie chill invaded the space. A faint scent of blood momentarily blended with the aroma of alcohol, creating that distinctive Taurant flavor. A pale man dressed in noble vampire attire stepped inside slowly, followed by a row of tall, slender figures.
Such attire in this city could only mean one faction had arrived.
The previously boisterous drinkers, sensing trouble, vanished in an instant, leaving the tavern suddenly quiet, messy, and deserted.
"Taurant is like a gold rush—everyone thinks they're some dragon or phoenix spawn. Too noisy. If we don't remind them this is a breeding ground, people might forget who truly owns this place."
The leading vampire noble casually walked up to Loranhir, snatching the holy sword from a trembling patron's hands and gently stroking it.
"How about letting me have the next turn?"
Loranhir gave the newcomer a once-over.
It couldn't be more obvious—this was clearly one of Grand Duke Dreka's people, likely here because their daytime activities in Taurant had been too conspicuous.
This fellow before her was certainly no iron-clad saintess who could be dismissed with simple paperwork meant for fools.
Loranhir didn't seem particularly concerned about the vampire noble taking the holy sword.
After all, it was just a fire poker—whoever held it made no difference, as long as they paid.
"That's fine by me, but haven't you forgotten something?" Loranhir said.
"You're the mightiest hero—I know that well. But I certainly won't feel any—"
"Sir, please stop. That's not what I'm referring to," Loranhir interrupted seriously.
"Want to know my name? Heh, of course—I serve under Grand Duke Dreka as—"
"No no no, that's not it either." Loranhir shook her head emphatically.
Her expression was grave.
To Loranhir, it seemed she was facing something of utmost importance at this moment.
"Are you mocking me?" The repeated interruptions made the vampire noble furious. He brandished the holy sword. "Your sacred blade is in my hands!"
"I'm not blind," Loranhir shrugged, completely unfazed.
The vampire noble paused, thinking this wasn't right—since ancient times, every hero had treasured their holy sword like their own heart, cherishing it beyond measure...When had anyone ever seen a hero treat the holy sword with such indifference as Loranhir did, completely like a village girl handling a grimy fire poker.
It must be that the holy sword in his hand was just putting on a false show of strength.
"Still bluffing when death is at your door. Without the holy sword, all heroes are the same—useless trash, nothing at all." The Blood Noble couldn't even be bothered to glance at her.
"How about you kneel down, admit your mistake, and call the Princess down? I might just spare you then. What do you say?"
Loranhir pondered for a moment, then shook her head, "Hmm... That's not what I meant."
"What the hell are you trying to say!?" The Blood Noble's blood pressure was rising.
"What I mean is, you haven't even paid yet," Loranhir said seriously. "One silver coin per attempt to draw the holy sword, fair and square. Even the King would have to pay. What, you think you can get it for free?"
The Blood Noble froze for a moment, his crimson pupils darkening further. His face looked as if he'd just swallowed a dead rat.
"Are you mocking me? Just wait. After I kill you, I’ll go upstairs and finish off the Princess."
"See, you're rushing again. You haven't even paid here yet. What's upstairs—your dad or your mom? Why the hurry?" Loranhir said.
"…Are you insane!?" The Blood Noble snapped.
His hands twisted into claws, his nails growing wildly, sharp and deadly enough to tear through a grown man effortlessly. Without another word, he lunged at Loranhir.
As if she had nowhere to escape.
○
Suddenly, the tavern shook. A piercing sound tore through the soundproof barrier of the guest room, like the roar of a dragon, reverberating endlessly in their eardrums.
"Good heavens, what's happening downstairs? Did the Layang Empire attack again?" Shatina jolted awake, tumbling out of bed.
Half-asleep, she scrambled to her feet and began bowing and scraping to the empty air. "Holy knight, sir, I know Taurant like the back of my hand. Right this way, right this way."
"What are you doing?" Patunasankus said behind her.
"Being a guide, obviously. What else?" Shatina replied without turning around.
"A guide… What for?"
"To earn some extra cash, of course," Shatina declared solemnly. "Gotta make money, no shame in that."
Patunasankus fell silent for a few seconds.
"Can’t you have a little dignity? Why is your head always filled with money, money, money? Are you some ancient dragon reincarnated or something?"
"When you're broke, dignity is the last thing on your mind!" Shatina retorted righteously.
She glanced out the window—the city was peaceful, with only a stingy cold wind blowing through. Shatina shivered, finally fully awake, her words stumbling.
"As long... as long as I don't give up on my dream of striking it rich, one day, there’ll be bread, there’ll be milk, and there’ll definitely be money!"
"I doubt it," Patunasankus said.
"Hey! Would it kill you to say something encouraging?" Shatina glared.
"You’ll win!" Patunasankus obliged, raising a fist with utmost seriousness. "I believe in you.""..."
"What are you all chatting about? You seem so happy."
After a short while, Loranhir came upstairs and immediately heard loud noises coming from the guest room.
"Shatina was talking about her get-rich-quick scheme for her sky palace," Patunasankus turned and said.
"That sounds quite promising."
"What happened downstairs just now?"
"Nothing much, just a few troublemaking vampires from Grand Duke Dreka's faction. It's not the first time, but these ones seem a bit more high-profile. Hmm... just a little overcooked now."
Loranhir covered her mouth, swallowing back the uncontrollable flicker of flame in her throat.
"No big deal. Once we find Elaphia, we'll take care of him once and for all."
"Vampires from Grand Duke Dreka?" Shatina asked casually. "Wait, so you're saying the local big shot of Taurant is constantly plotting to kill you two, and you're planning to mess with him too?"
"Yeah, that's pretty much it," Loranhir nodded, not bothering to hide it.
"See you around then." Shatina turned to leave immediately.
"Leaving already? Not waiting for the awards at the Wine Festival?" Patunasankus called out to stop her.
"No way I'm sticking around with you guys who've pissed off the local boss," Shatina said without turning back. "I want to live a few more years!"
Shatina's reaction was exactly what Patunasankus had expected, but she clearly had a way to hit the other's weak spot.
She couldn't let someone still useful just walk away like this.
"Money is no object," Patunasankus said to her word by word.
Shatina's footsteps froze instantly.
"...That kind of talk really tramples on my dignity!"
She turned around, almost shouting.
"Really?"
"..."
Suddenly, Shatina clasped her hands together and clapped, her expression serious.
"As compensation for trampling on my dignity—you'll have to pay more."