“So, you dumped the Princess?” the guy’s wife has made some tea for all of us and now the whole family is looking at me, small children included. Even the toddler in his mother’s arms is out for some tea.

“Yep. Dropped the bomb on her. Almost told her ass is too fat as well.”

“For the World’s Tree,” the mother open her mouth and looks at her children, who are already spelling ‘fat ass,’ with their juvenile food-openings.

“Joey is not a good luck on you if you badmouth a girl you’ve been with,” Penelope interjects.

“Heh, not been with her, man,” I shrug, “we just dated. Platonic. No hardcore stuff. And you boys, behave. No sex until marriage.”

“Mr. Luciani, please,” [[Severinus]], the [Merchant], says.

“Oh come on, just joking. Have all the sex you want, kids. It’s free.”

At this point, probably having heard the word before, the two smaller children, both boys, start screaming around: “SEX! SEX!”

It takes a few minutes to put the household in order and confine the children to the sex talk-less room in the house. Severinus’s wife is looking at me with a scoff, but she hides a slight smile of amusement.

“You know, Laura’s mother, the [Queen], was supposed to be exhiled or something. But then, King Tiberius, who I basically rescued from poverty, decided to take back his own decision. Crazy, isn’t it? I mean, fostering hate is part of the royal family stuff, I guess. But I haven’t really done nothing, you know? The duels, for example, weren’t my idea! Did you know that? And did you know that they weren’t really supposed to be to death?”

“We didn’t watch them,” Severinus says. “It was the talk of the city for weeks. But the tickets were quite pricy.”

“What? Tickets? They sold tickets?”

“Sure. They probably made a lot of money as well. It started from one silver for the worst part of the arena. The better ones were paid for in gold.”

“Huh. You would expect someone to pay the main entertainer, but I guess that’s not how it works. Well, it doesn’t matter. Anyway, Severinus, how much do I owe you? You have the math on you, don’t ya?”

The Elf, a rather short one, exhales.

“It’s a steep bill. I took out a loan for the amount of Astraiae I was selling and most of them were ruined by...”

“Yeah, I know. Princess Bianca is a bit cuckoo. Don’t worry. Princess Laura is actually worse. But come on, how much?” I press him. He’s obviously a bit shy even though he’s supposed to be a [Merchant], brother-in-law to [Hagglers] and children of [Thieves].

“Twenty-three gold coins if you count business lost today and the interest,” suddenly the wife interjects with a hard expression.

“Well, it’s not exactly--”

“Sure, what’s the problem,” I fish out a bag of gold coins that comes from my own bakery and take out a couple of fistfuls.

“This should be around forty, I think. You count it,” I push some of the gold at the man. “And listen, again, I’m really sorry about everything.”

“This is--” the man widens his eyes. “This is too much!”

“Meh, I have the cash, don’t worry. I’m not even sure how much money I have exactly. A lot, probably. But don’t spend it all in one place,” I wink at him.

“I... I don’t know what to say,” the man is still in shock.

“You don’t have to say anything. Just... enjoy your life,” I pat his shoulder and stand up. “Oh, and one more thing.”

“Yes?”

“If you ever need some work, don’t hesitate to ask. I’ll be in the city for the foreseeable future, and I’m always willing to help out,” I say with a smile.

“I... thank you,” the man finally manages to say.

“No problem. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go,” I say and head for the door.

“Oh, and Joey,” the wife suddenly speaks up.

“Yes?”

“Thank you,” she says with a smile.

I return the smile and nod before leaving the house.

...

“Work?”

“Yeah, I could have him sell some pastries for me. Surely would net him more cash than those stupid Astraiae.”

“Just like that, after all of this, you simply... give him a job?”

I look at her with a brow raised.

“Yeah? You healed his leg. What’s a job compared to that. You are right. I was an asshole. He was an asshole, too, sure. But that should not mean I should behave like an asshole. Lead by example, as they say.”

“You are something else, Joey Luciani,” Penelope shakes her head. “Do you mind if I ask a totally unrelated question?”

“Shoot.”

“What’s up with the hat?”

I touch the brim of the giant hat of my head, now more of an afterthought than anything, and shrug.

“Nothing, really. It’s a gift. And it’s cursed. So if I take it off, it will start zapping me. Probably to death, at some point. Yeah. It’s also made of dragon skin? But like, soft dragon skin? I don’t know what’s the deal with that. Fabric softener, perhaps? Do you know if they have fabric softener in this world?”

“[Washers] have a skill for it,” she giggles, “but the hat--”

“Yeah, it’s a bit weird. Kind of a good artifact, though. Unique, for sure.”

“Yeah, I would say ‘unique,’ as well.”

“Sooo, what’s up? Are we going back to your place?” I ask the woman.

“Oh, on our first date? I don’t think so,” she replies with a cheeky smile.

“Just walk me home, and that’s it for today. I plan on staying here for a bit. And we can talk. Not that it’s going to be worth much. I doubt we’ll be able to go back to Earth, you know. At this point, I feel like Epretos would suit me better than Italy. Can’t go back to a place without skills, really. Oh, by the way, how did you die?”

I stop dead in my tracks. On purpose, obviously. There’s not really that much that can surprise me anymore. But I love to be drammatic.

“Excuse me? Or, you know, I beg your pardon?”

“How did you die? I know for a fact that all other Earthers who came to this world were dying when they suddenly got rejuvenated and transported here.”

I look around, seeing the normal traffic as a sign that I’m probably not having a psychotic attack.

“I didn’t die. I was chasing some... do you say tail in England? Wait, no. You are not English. Right. I was, you know, fooling around. Asking a girl out. Or something. Yeah. No details. Anyway. No, not dying. For sure.”

“Hm. Well, that’s good to know. You don’t have to tell me more if you don’t want to,” she says with a smile.

“Good, good,” I say, resuming my walk. After a few feet, I stop again.

“Wait a second, you don’t believe me, do you?”

“It’s a sensitive matter. It can be traumatic to talk about it. I understand perfectly your reserve about it.”

“What? What reserve?! I did not die. I swear. Why would I lie? And wait a second, how old were you when croaked?”

“Pretty old,” she says with a wink.

Oh. Wait a second.

“Are you telling me you are an old geezer?”

“Something like that,” she says while striding forward. “And remember, age is but a number!”

“Wait! Where are you going?! How old were you?! Oh GOD! It’s going to be plague my dreams! Tell me! Penelope, Penelope! Fuck! Stop running! STOP RUNNING YOU OLD BAG!”