The merchant's face reddened, voice rising with anger:

"Then why hire you at all? If you're just going to throw away the cargo for every little threat, what good are you to me?"

The Echo Shadow burst into laughter. Loud and thunderous, it echoed through the cottage like a storm.

It wasn't just mockery—it was a roar that cleaved through the merchant's pride.

When he stopped, he stared at the ceiling briefly, then looked down at the merchant with eyes as black and bottomless as the abyss.

"Do you think I'm the kind of man who runs at the first sign of danger? Death is just a road, whether I walk it today or tomorrow. My life is precious, but my word and honor are far more so. I'll risk everything to protect your cargo. But not a single toe of a villager will be traded for your profit. That's who I am."

The merchant paled. A quiet fear crept into his eyes, though he tried to cover it with a breath and a calm reply:

"I understand. I apologize for the misunderstanding… but can't you do both? Protect the cargo and kill the beasts?"

The Echo Shadow smiled quietly.

"Of course. That's the ideal scenario. But you and I both know things rarely go according to plan. So I'll ask again: when no one else is around—what matters most?"

The merchant hesitated, then replied with firm resolve:

"The cargo."

The Echo Shadow gave a small nod.

"Good. Now let's move on to the important part… my payment, Master Merchant."

"Ten silvers for the transport. Five more if you kill the monsters." The merchant spoke as if it were a generous offer.

The Echo Shadow lifted his gaze, a cool smirk spreading across his face, layered with subtle disdain.

"Ten silvers?" he said, his voice chilled.

"That won't cover my expenses through this winter—let alone maintain my equipment or recharge my runes. Did you think I'd throw myself into this for free? I expected you to be smarter than that."

After three centuries of Echo Shadows walking the earth, their services had become rare, and their rates soared.

Once protectors of the realm, now many saw them as mercenaries. Work was sparse—entire winters could pass without a single mission, and sometimes they had to slay monsters for free just to survive.

With the cold season closing in, the Echo Shadow knew finding another job would be nearly impossible.

This assignment had to carry him through the frost.

He'd planned to ask for fifty silvers.

But this insult of an offer? That couldn't go unanswered.

"A paltry sum," he thought with a bitter grin.

"So... he wants to play games?"

The smile on his lips sharpened—like the gleam of steel in twilight.

This wasn't just negotiation now.

It was a duel.

He lowered his gaze slightly, tapping the table with his finger as if measuring each word, then said:

"Perhaps I wasn't clear. What you're asking is no minor errand. Just hauling that cart safely warrants a hundred silvers. With beast interference? That brings it to a hundred and fifty. And you're sending me out there alone—no escorts, no guards, just me."

The merchant's face twisted with rage.

He slammed the table with his fist.

"That's outrageous! Do you think I'm made of gold? How greedy are you?"

The Echo Shadow didn't flinch.

He glanced sideways at the servant still holding the wine bottle.

"Midnight Silence, isn't it?" he asked.

"Heard it's worth two hundred silvers. And you're telling me my life, the safety of your village, and your precious goods… are worth less than a bottle of wine?"

He stood slowly. The air grew colder, as though his presence had drawn a veil of winter over the room.

He didn't wait for a response—he turned to leave.