Chapter 121 – Real Estate.

“This is truly maddening… Who do these inferior creatures think they are?”

“Just be quiet. What if they have dark mana-detecting tools and discover you? Perhaps it would be best if you called Aburdon away.”

“Hah! You’d like that, wouldn’t you, hero? But my dear Rusty needs my expertise – more than yours!”

“Be quiet, both of you.”

Rusty silenced his two guides through their mental link, putting an end to their bickering. They had already been waiting in line for over an hour before finally entering the city building – only to find an even longer queue inside. Gleam had to be left outside as no monsters were allowed in so she skittered over to a hiding place and kept her distance. The interior was both simple and cramped. It seemed as though the designer had tried to maximize the use of space by cramming everything into a single chamber, leaving barely any room to move.

A narrow corridor led to numerous locked doors, each marked with a small plate describing what lay beyond. Only one person was allowed inside at a time. Rusty managed to steal a few glances through the openings – steel bars separated those entering from whoever was within. The setup made it clear that the officials feared potential violence, and judging by the rough appearances of many waiting in line, that concern wasn’t unfounded.

The main reason he had come here was to secure a lair for himself. He had plenty of money stashed away from his journey and could always acquire more if needed. He still had monster parts and various other items stored away that he could pawn off if necessary. However, his first priority was to determine the cost of a home and whether purchasing one was even possible.

His plan was simple. First, he would acquire a home and use it as a base to sell basic weaponry and tools. The blacksmith’s head he had obtained would serve as his cover whenever someone inquired about the craftsman behind the goods. It was also possible that he would need to register his second identity in this city, but from what he had observed, the settlement’s laws seemed fairly lax. Perhaps that wouldn’t be necessary after all.

Rusty scanned the row of tarnished plates hanging above the doors, each bearing a different municipal notice. One, however, immediately seized his attention. Carved in elegant, slightly faded script, it read: “Property Transactions – Purchase, Lease, or Exchange.” This was the place he would find his lair and the wait resumed. After another hour of standing around and doing nothing, he was finally able to reach the door and hear the magic words.

“Next.”

At last, a tired city clerk beckoned him forward. Rusty straightened his posture, pocketed the thoughts of his potential lair, and stepped toward the designated door. After pushing it open, he was met by a cramped, dim room. Inside, the room was unmistakably plain, with signs of neglect in every corner.

The air carried a faint musty scent, and the wooden floor creaked under his heavy boots. Dust had settled in the corners of the room, undisturbed for what seemed like months. It was illuminated by a few oil lamps and lacked any windows. Parchments were piled haphazardly on the desk, some yellowed with age, others bearing ink smudges and stains from hurried, careless handling.

A heavy iron grille separated Rusty from the clerk within. The bars were thick, reinforced by additional metal bands at the base and top, making it clear that whoever designed this room expected trouble from those who entered. The official seated on the other side was a middle-aged man with sunken eyes and deep wrinkles etched into his face, likely from years of dealing with frustrated buyers and angry petitioners. His long, bony fingers tapped impatiently against the desk as he squinted at Rusty through the bars. Behind him was a single door, probably one he would use to escape if anyone got violent.

“You here to buy, lease, or complain?”

The man asked, his voice flat and devoid of interest.

“Buying.”

Rusty shifted his stance, uneasy. The room felt too confined for his liking, but what unsettled him more was the lack of an escape route. There wasn’t even a place to hurl his helmet through if he needed to abandon his body. Still, his guides reassured him that as long as he didn’t do anything unusual, nothing would happen. If the people here truly saw him as a monster, they would have acted already and would not have let him in.

“Buying, huh?”

The clerk flipped through the pages with a practiced hand, barely skimming the contents.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

The clerk narrowed his eyes as he flipped another page in his ledger.

“I must inform you that all the best properties have long been taken by those with deeper pockets. What remains are run-down houses in the slums. They carry a heavy price tag even in their current state.”

“Slums?”

Rusty knew what slums were, but for someone like him, a living suit of armor created in a dark dungeon, there was little difference between a slum and anywhere else. His only concern was finding a place to stay for the night and securing a cover for his crafting scheme.

“I understand. I’m not looking for a mansion. Something with four walls and a cellar will suffice, preferably something spacious.”

He still preferred dungeon-like spaces, so an underground area to serve as a smithy would be ideal. The condition of the house above did not matter. He did not need a bed, warmth, or even a roof that kept out the rain.

“A cellar?”

The old clerk continued flipping through the pages, his sunken eyes scanning for any listings that matched Rusty’s request. He stopped on a particular sheet, tracing a bony finger down the parchment.

“There is a property in the far eastern part of Ferndale, near the outer wall. It has a basement. The structure itself is… well, let’s just say it hasn’t seen upkeep in quite some time.”

“It can’t be that bad, right?”

He tilted his head at the mention of a possible lair. Its location near one of the walls was also a good sign. His guides had advised him to establish his base close to an escape route. They had even suggested digging a tunnel beneath the city walls to ensure a way out if he was ever discovered.

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

“The roof has partially collapsed, and the wooden beams have rotted away in several places. The previous owner abandoned it years ago after the foundation started sinking on one side. It has been deemed unfit for living by most.”

He paused, then added.

“Yet, it still carries a heavy cost as the underground basement has remained mostly intact but still needs extensive repairs.”

“Oh… that sounds great! How much?”

Rusty asked, thinking that the description fit what he was looking for.

“You wish to know the price without inspecting the property first?”

The old man’s eyes narrowed as if he was looking at a fool but he didn’t care much to attempt to dissuade him. Instead, he took some papers and started writing down something.

“Please give this to a clerk in the next room, they will prepare a guide for you. If you deem the new residence worthwhile he will help you prepare the contract for the land ownership.”