A Gentle Noble's Vacation Recommendation

“There are dungeon items like this too, huh…”

Having recovered from his earlier frozen state, the shopkeeper held two teddy bears and gazed at them in admiration.

The monocle he’d put on actually suited his young face very well.

He still looked as lacking in confidence as ever, but the earnest expression he wore while appraising them was one that made you willing to entrust the job to him.

“I didn’t think people would doubt so much that I actually became an adventurer.”

“S-sorry… Ah, but compared to before, you, um, feel a little more approachable…”

“That makes me happy.”

The shopkeeper hurriedly averted his gaze from Lizel’s smile and turned back to face the teddy bears.

Gill, wondering if that meant Lizel had been hard to approach before, glanced sideways at him.

It was true that Lizel blended into his surroundings better now, but Gill felt that was simply because of the change of clothes.

Incidentally, it had been rather hard to get the shopkeeper to believe not only the noble part, but even the “adventurer” part.

Gill couldn’t blame him. From what he’d heard, the Lizel the shopkeeper had seen before was from right after Lizel had first come to this side.

Gill himself had never doubted at first that Lizel was a noble, so having such a person suddenly reappear and say, “I became an adventurer,” would hardly be believable.

Telling Lizel not to bother the shopkeeper too much as he kept trying to chat with him just to enjoy his reactions, Gill moved off to look over the sword care tools arranged on the shelves.

Gill wasn’t used to these things, so it took him a little time.

As the two of them discussed what Lizel still lacked as an adventurer and picked out items, the appraisal finished.

“How is it?”

“Um, these were found on the second floor of the nearby labyrinth, right…?”

“Yes.”

Lizel nodded, looking puzzled, and the shopkeeper lined the two teddy bears up for him to see.

Their red and blue gemstone eyes caught the light and glittered.

“The fabric, the buttons, even the gemstone eyes—everything is from the labyrinth.”

“For the second floor, that’s a pretty good piece of work.”

“Think the two of them together might go for about one gold coin?”

The client’s budget went up to one gold coin. Of course that was unrealistic here, but since they had the chance, he wanted to aim right up against the upper limit. Take what you can get—that was the policy.

Gill had already told him: as an adventurer, if you turn in worthless junk, it’ll hurt your reputation.

“Not just one coin—depending on the buyer, someone might pay five gold coins for these alone.”

“For dolls… Ah, like dedicated doll collectors, maybe.”

“Yes, there are actually quite a few. About two gold coins for one, five for the pair… probably…”

These? Lizel and Gill both looked down at the teddy bears. Neither could understand that world.

But if it were books, Lizel would understand. If it was a rare volume, he’d gladly throw money at it.

A true maniac’s world. Accepting that such things existed, Lizel nodded, while Gill, still unable to understand, wore a suspicious expression.

“However, if we look at them simply as dungeon items, then they’re low-rank products…”

“As dungeon items?”

“He means in terms of usefulness. These are obviously zero, so as dungeon items they’re appropriate for the second floor.”

Aside from dungeon item collectors, what regular adventurers cared most about was whether an item was useful.

Excellent weapons and armor, of course; lamps that never went out, knives that never dulled, rare ores—those were all naturally valuable.

Then there were things that were simply worth cash wherever you sold them.

Items like those aforementioned lamps could be sold to the guild, which would then pass them on to shops, so that kind of item also fetched high prices.

Lizel’s teddy bears this time were the exception.

They had no practical use, and the labyrinth apparently had no concept of “people who are maniacs for dolls.”