Alley Winds and the Two-Gold Silence

Three silver coins. That is the price of this exquisite "Storm-Warding Horseshoe," brought from the northern edges by our logistics department at the risk of their lives. ...Not that anyone is buying it, when I'm yelling at a dusty wall in a back alley.

The North Market has barely begun, and that greedy Basso already bullied me out of my spot. According to our appraisal department, those rusty candlesticks of his are nothing but trash, but in this market, the loudest voice wins. I ended up squeezing my cart into this dead-end corner, a place fit only for napping cats. Business is dead.

And yet, Mio still found me here.
Without a word, she stared at that blue stone necklace for five whole minutes. I wonder what she thought when she saw the price tag now reads "Two gold coins." Then she just vanished, as quietly as she came, without her usual lingering.

"You have no intention of throwing this away, do you?" I'm supposed to be the one who reads the customers' faces, but I'm the one trapped in my own game. Every time I rewrite the price tag, I suspect I just don't want anyone else to have it. The rumors about Garon's lost key, the lack of down payment—the more anxious I get, the tighter I cling to this necklace.

Tomorrow, I'm taking back a decent spot. Until then, I'll just polish this dusty horseshoe.

Three silver coins.