"Pardon?" Dwayne stiffened, every wrinkle tightening across his face. He questioned whether he had misheard the young man. Aiden remained steady. "I told you I'm buying every gift box in this store." "Huh?!" "What?!" The words hit the room hard. Even the fake customers Dwayne hired to stand around nearly dropped character. No one understood what they were witnessing. Holy hell. Where did this rich guy crawl out from? Dwayne wondered. The props store was small, yet the shelves were stacked with well over a hundred boxes. Even if someone purchased only the cheapest ones, the cost would still land north of 200,000 marks. "Is something wrong?" Aiden gave the room a calm, unimpressed look. "N-no issue at all!" Dwayne's hands shook as adrenaline surged through him. His mind exploded, Mom, I made it! Every gift box is gone!This was it—the moment every crooked storekeeper dreamed of. He cleared his throat and listed the inventory. "We have twenty Special gift boxes, fifteen Elite, forty Advanced, and sixty-five Standard." A nervous swallow followed. "Let's price everything together at 500,000 marks." "No problem." Aiden couldn't be bothered dealing with Dwayne. He paid the 500,000 marks on the spot, since that kind of money hardly made a dent for him. "Wow!" The extra 500,000 gold coins hit Dwayne so hard his pulse nearly stalled. The world around him felt hazy, like he had stepped into a fantasy he didn't earn. That's genuine wealth—half a million gone in one breath. To Dwayne, Aiden with the indistinct face suddenly looked larger than life, bold in a way he couldn't ignore. "Should I wrap everything up, or do we open them here?" he asked, grinning wider. Aiden replied, "Open them here.""You heard him! Chop-chop! I'm paying for the work!" Dwayne shouted. The helpers snapped to attention. Getting paid to rip open gift boxes sounded like a dream assignment. They swarmed the shelves, tearing into packaging until cardboard scraps covered the floor. A short while later, Dwayne stepped forward. "Sir, everything's open." He stood beside the pile, flushed with embarrassment. More than a hundred boxes, costing 500,000 marks, had been emptied. The results were pitiful—a sea of worthless junk items and two bronze-level equipment. Even the stingiest loot tables had more mercy than this. "Expected as much... Tsk, tsk, tsk..." Aiden's voice carried no disappointment. Dwayne had always run the worst scam props store in Leafport. He hadn't come for the loot anyway. He ignored the bronze-level equipment entirely and reached for a small piece hidden among the debris. Ding! Congratulations! Bloom of Grace acquired. This flower-shaped relic possesses an ability yet to be determined. One plain little equipment, and half a million marks well spent. The drop rate in Doomsday was ridiculously low. Life-skill players in Doomsday earned maybe a thousand marks after an entire month of work. After material costs and repairs, most kept only a few hundred marks. 500,000 marks represented decades of income for an ordinary player. Excessive? Yes. Worth it? Absolutely. Aiden knew the Bloom of Grace would push him far ahead. He placed it in his pocket and walked out quietly, offering no further comment. Behind him, Dwayne watched with starry eyes. "No wonder he caught my attention. Even walking away, he looks unbelievable." One helper laughed. "Man's labeled a vagrant, yet he throws money like royalty. Leafport's going to remember him." Another nodded. "He's not normal. Anyone can see that." A third sighed. "Shame his status drags him down. Give him one step higher, and he'd run this whole city." Dwayne clapped once. "Celebrate while we can. Today's a good day." Their voices filled the props store, buzzing with the thrill of easy money. No other vagrant could cause a scene like that. Money shaped everything in Doomsday. ... Meanwhile, inside the duke's estate. Warm incense drifted through a richly decorated bedroom. Lady Riley sat at the edge of her bed, a lavender robe loosely wrapped around her, her hair still damp. A maid stood nearby, gently drying each strand. The scene made it obvious she had just stepped out of the bath. Her relaxed poise carried a quiet allure, although a touch of worry softened her expression. She looked toward the maid. "Elise, do you think anyone will actually bring me the Bloom of Grace?"Elise replied in a steady, warm voice, "Your fortune rarely fails you, Your Grace. Someone will return it."