Chapter 33: The Poet of Boundless Love is Very Happy

Now, not only did Lance have to continue paying Talia a daily wage of three pounds, but he also owed her a massive sum.

Given the immense value of the Epic grade card, Poet of Boundless Love, Lance and Talia eventually negotiated a production cost of seventy-five thousand pounds in the Southern Kingdom Alliance Currency. Lance would take possession of the card immediately, but was contractually obligated to pay off the full amount, plus interest, within ten years.

Had Lance not provided the core material, the Hymn of Compassion, and participated in the critical stages of the card's creation, he likely wouldn't have been able to acquire it, since the price would have probably been ten times higher. Yet, a sum of seventy-five thousand pounds was so large that even the Wilford Trading Company would struggle to produce that much liquid cash on the spot.

Since he was unable to pay immediately, Lance would have to repay Talia gradually as he earned money. Based on a 4% annual compound interest rate, paying off the debt in fixed installments over ten years required an annual payment of at least 9,247 pounds. If he failed to pay, late fees would cause the total, principal and interest combined, to snowball rapidly.

In short, the Poet of Boundless Love was an incredibly expensive investment. Lance practically had to take out a mortgage just to acquire her. Of course, he wasn't losing out. In a way, he had firmly bound Talia to his side.

Originally, the demon princess had only intended to tutor Lance until he reached Rank 3 before leaving. Now, because she wanted to recover that massive debt, she was compelled not only to protect Lance, but also to assist him, since he was the one capable of freely selling cards in human society. That way, he could earn enough wealth to pay her back as quickly as possible.

As long as he owed Talia a substantial amount of money, she would keep him under her protection. She hadn't even realized that their existing arrangements, the bodyguard and teaching agreements, would naturally continue as a result.

Lance smiled to himself, his mind busy calculating the advantages of the situation. However, the Poet made no move to revert to her enchanted card form. She walked toward Lance, tilted her proud head slightly, and let out a laugh as clear and melodious as silver bells. "An opponent like that was just too weak."

Although she bore a striking resemblance to Talia, her temperament was the exact opposite. In contrast to her creator, who was aloof, dignified, and kept others at a distance, every expression and smile from the Poet radiated the warmth of a spring sun. However, deep within her eyes lurked a trace of undisguised cunning and arrogance. She was delighted by the torment she had inflicted upon Ferrat, making no effort to hide it.

"Friendship above all, and your opponent must be respected." Lance hurriedly shook his head and closed his eyes while quietly muttering, "Forgive me for my sins, forgive me for my sins."

It wasn't strange for an Epic grade summon to possess an independent consciousness. However, the Poet’s combat stats were weaker than those of an ordinary Tier 1 summon. Unless her special effect could be utilized, she was essentially just a mascot. There was no point in expecting her to fight.

Lance beckoned to his summon. "Alright, turn back into a card."

However, the Poet didn’t comply immediately. After all, it was a rare treat for her to come out and get some fresh air. She sauntered over to Lance's side at a leisurely pace and said, "Hey, tell me, when are we going to torture the enemy again?"

Now that she didn't have to put on an innocent act, the Poet had thrown away all traces of her pure maiden persona. Instead, she grinned broadly, her eyes narrowing into sly, fox-like slits.

Lance's brows twitched, and he quickly gave a couple of soft coughs. "Ahem!"

"Torturing citizens of our country is illegal. It falls under the crime of abuse as defined in the legal code. You shouldn't go around saying things like that," Lance explained earnestly. "I have no intention of breaking the law. I am simply participating in the entrance exam using strategic methods."

The Poet frowned, stunned for a moment. She blinked and cocked her head while staring into Lance's bright, emerald-green eyes, which looked incredibly clear and sincere. It really seemed like he was just explaining the law and not using some sort of underworld slang.

"Tsk." With a click of her tongue, the Poet dissolved into specks of light. They coalesced in Lance's hand, reforming into an enchanted card wreathed in a faint, orange mist.

"Weak Master, you need to get stronger quickly. That way, I can stay out here freely and enjoy myself."

The crisp, lingering echo of the Poet's voice, tinged with sugary sweetness, reverberated across the empty grassland.

Lance put the card away while shaking his head helplessly. Even if he had an inexhaustible mana supply, there was no way he would let that troublemaker out to run wild purely for her own amusement. She could instantly turn any place rife with negative emotions into something akin to H’arkham Asylum.

While it was true that a summoned entity with an independent consciousness could operate autonomously, often becoming a valuable asset or even a caretaker for its master, things were different with the Poet. Her personality was absolutely atrocious. Unless the situation offered a chance to torment or toy with others, she only reluctantly listened to Lance.

Lance silently vowed to himself, The next time I summon you, it will definitely be to perform a good deed.

The Poet was, after all, a card capable of bringing joy and happiness to others. Forcibly quelling an enemy's rage could certainly be considered a form of healing.

It had been a day filled with doing good. After recalling his summon, Little Angel Lance exited the artificial Shadow Realm dungeon.

***

The spacious, open area was encircled by towering glass walls. A pale-gold cylindrical shaft of light from the domed ceiling served as the atrium's focal point, stretching from floor to ceiling. Through the circular opening above, sunlight and fresh air flowed freely.

The sun was high in the sky by now, casting a shimmering sparkle across the clear water of the atrium's pool. Surrounded by lush greenery, it offered a soothing atmosphere that was a welcome sight for Lance as he returned from the Shadow Realm. However, a quick glance around revealed that Instructor Theresa, who had been coordinating the exams, was nowhere to be found.

Under normal circumstances, as the person in charge, Theresa would have stayed to brief the candidates on enrollment procedures following the exam. However, Lance soon understood the situation when he spotted a stretcher being hurriedly carried out by medical staff, along with a view of Theresa's back as she frantically communicated with them.

She was clearly occupied with the aftermath of the incident involving Examiner Ferrat and had been forced to step away from the exam hall briefly. This meant the second group of candidates, whose test was due to start any moment, was left waiting with no one to assist them.

"Oh dear, if I'd come out a bit earlier, I could've lent a hand." Lance was the helpful, eager-to-assist type. Had he encountered a situation where an opponent needed to be put on a stretcher, he certainly would have stepped in to help.

Hyperion had inadvertently overheard Lance's muttering, and she couldn't help but give him an odd look. If Ferrat had still been semi-conscious and seen Lance coming over to help lift him onto the stretcher, he probably would have passed out from sheer irritation...

Hyperion couldn't help but think that Lance was a deeply cunning and mischievous person. However, when she saw his sincere, innocent expression, she then decided that wasn't the case. He was genuinely just a bit of a natural airhead.