Chapter 90: The Antique Shop’s First Big Sale

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Duncan eagerly awaited Morris’s reaction as he subtly introduced a particular topic into their conversation. His goal was not to create a stir but to verify something. Based on the information he had gathered prior to their meeting, Morris, who appeared to be an ordinary person, was unaware of a devastating fire that had taken place. This memory of the fire existed exclusively in the minds of Nina and Duncan himself.

Until Duncan took possession of his current body, that intense fire incident was a memory only Nina carried.

Their conversation soon veered away from the unusual topic, and Morris didn’t seem to suspect anything odd. Instead, the teacher eagerly shifted the discussion to Nina’s academic performance and the general atmosphere in her classroom, probing for details about Nina’s family life.

It was clear that Morris, a dedicated teacher, had wanted to gather this information about Nina for quite some time. However, the troubled past of Nina’s uncle, marred by poor decisions and a downward spiral, had delayed this important discussion until now.

Duncan was in a unique situation. He had inherited only fragmented memories from the body he now occupied, making him ill-equipped to answer many of Morris’s specific questions. Nevertheless, Duncan was adept at thinking on his feet. He skillfully used the memories he did possess, combined with some creative improvisation, to navigate through the conversation. Whenever he found himself unable to answer a question, he conveniently attributed it to past irresponsibility and issues related to alcohol abuse, assuring Morris that things would improve moving forward.

Duncan had a rich background in handling “home visits” like this one. Though he was now in a different world and inhabiting a new identity, his past experience in knowing what questions educators typically ask came in handy.

Eventually, the discussion shifted after all formal matters were covered. Morris’s focus was captured by an antique dagger prominently displayed on the counter.

His eyes sparkling, the older man asked, “Is this for sale?”

Grinning, Duncan responded, “This is an antique shop.”

It was an obvious point; an item displayed in an antique shop would naturally be for sale.

At that instant, a realization washed over Duncan. The dagger had come from the Vanished, but upon reflection, he saw no inherent risks in selling the item. Not everything from the Vanished was fraught with supernatural implications; some items were just ordinary antiques when viewed in a different light. So, why not sell it?

Compared to the fake items he sold in his shop, the storeroom of the Vanished could prove to be a far more lucrative inventory source.

This epiphany made Duncan feel as if his perspective had broadened immensely. He suddenly became conscious of the fact that he had been sitting on a goldmine of potential antiques. What he had once dismissed as mere junk was, in fact, a treasure chest awaiting the right, wealthy customer. And Morris seemed to be just that person.

Morris, however, was blissfully ignorant of the torrent of thoughts swirling through Duncan’s mind. His attention was squarely focused on the beautifully preserved dagger in front of him. After a brief hesitation, he cautiously inquired, “How much is it?”

Duncan was at a loss for words. The expansive possibilities he had just envisioned seemed to collapse inward as he realized he had no clue how to appropriately price the antique dagger. Even if Duncan had been granted full access to the memories of his current body, he still found himself at a loss when it came to appropriately pricing the antique dagger. Since the inception of this antique shop, not a single authentic antique had been sold. Furthermore, the pricing of antiques isn’t standardized, and Duncan was completely inexperienced in this specialized field. What then would be a fair asking price for such an item under these circumstances?

Duncan’s mind went into overdrive, rapidly evaluating various options. He quickly dismissed the idea of attaching a price tag in the 200,000 to 300,000 soras range, which was the ballpark figure for other items displayed in his shop. After all, even though the dagger was genuine and in excellent condition, it was only a bit over a hundred years old. According to Morris’s expertise, daggers of this type were somewhat rare but far from unique. They had been commonly used as utility knives by sailors from that historical period, a detail that naturally put a ceiling on their potential market value.

Given these limiting factors—the dagger’s relatively recent vintage, non-unique status, and lack of a significant historical narrative—the item’s collectible and aesthetic worth was modest at best. While Morris seemed quite taken by the dagger, which might allow for a modest price bump, Duncan had to be cautious. After all, Morris was Nina’s teacher, and maintaining that relationship held its own value.

In the span of a few moments, Duncan had run through these considerations. He finally opted for a diplomatic approach. Shaking his head with a smile, he suggested, “Why don’t you make an offer, Mr. Morris? Given that you’re Nina’s most esteemed teacher, I’m not comfortable setting a price as I would for a regular customer.”

Duncan knew his limitations all too well. Trying to come up with a credible price for the dagger would be akin to asking Goathead to keep quiet for three full days—an impossible feat. Naming a price that was either too high or too low could easily expose his lack of expertise. So, he deferred to Morris, who appeared far more knowledgeable, to lead the way in determining the dagger’s value.

Duncan suspected that Morris would intuit his motivations for deferring the decision. As to whether this negotiation would result in a loss for him, Duncan was surprisingly unconcerned. After all, he had invested nothing in the business. The appearance of this unexpected revenue stream, combined with the chance to gain valuable experience and make a connection in the academic community, made him feel like he would be the winner regardless of the outcome.

Morris took his time, carefully considering his options. He didn’t overthink it; the bulk of his attention remained on the dagger itself.

Finally, he spoke, carefully picking his words, “Three thousand, three thousand four hundred soras would be my estimate.” Morris paused, perhaps sensing Duncan’s potential disappointment. “You might find this price somewhat low. However, considering the dagger’s age and its position in historical context—items that aren’t unique can face significant depreciation in the market. Of course, its excellent condition is commendable, but we must also consider that it may not be of interest to all collectors.”

In that moment, Duncan realized that his decision to defer to Morris had been a wise one. The teacher had not only proposed a reasonable figure but had also illuminated the complex factors that go into pricing antiques. It was an educational experience for Duncan, one that he felt would benefit him greatly in the long run.

As Morris elaborated on the rationale behind his valuation, Duncan’s mind was awhirl with calculations and observations. In the economically struggling lower district, an average family of three would scrape by on a little more than 200 soras per month. The families there lived perilously close to the edge, with virtually no disposable income. In that context, the price tag Morris had attached to the dagger was eye-popping—equivalent to almost a year and a half of income for a regular family in the lower city.

For Duncan, this was a startling revelation of the inherent value of “authentic” antiques in this society, and it was by no means one of the pricier items. He found himself grappling with mixed feelings: on the one hand, amazed by the adage in the antique trade that “one day’s work could feed you for three years,” and on the other hand, disturbed by the stark contrast between the financial realities of the lower district and the extravagant pastimes of society’s elite.

Was he supposed to be astonished at the seeming affluence of the elderly gentleman standing before him?

“Deal,” Duncan finally responded, letting out a soft breath and offering Morris a smile.

He didn’t bother to haggle. The sum was considerable, a windfall not only for him but also for Nina—much more lucrative than any reward they could get from exposing a local cult.

Only recently, Duncan had been pondering avenues for generating income, and now it seemed like the urgency around that had lessened. Such were the unpredictable tides of life.

Morris, sensing that Duncan had agreed too quickly, appeared somewhat apologetic. “To be honest, you’re letting this go for less than it’s worth. A more accurate assessment, considering the limited number of such pieces in existence and their conditions, would be at least 10-20% higher.” Morris paused, touching his nose as if slightly embarrassed. “However, I’ve been on a bit of a spending spree collecting antiques lately and am a bit strapped for funds.”

Morris was being even more forthright than Duncan had anticipated.

“I think it’s a fair price,” Duncan responded, grinning. “Let’s chalk up the difference to ‘fate.'” Rising from his seat, Duncan moved behind the counter as if suddenly struck by an idea. “Ah, to commemorate this significant transaction, I have a small gift for you.”

Curiosity flickered in Morris’s eyes as Duncan reached into a compartment behind the counter to retrieve a small amethyst pendant. Morris’s keen eyes immediately noticed that a tag from some glass workshop was still affixed to the pendant.

Morris: “…”

Adopting a serious demeanor, Duncan handed over the pendant, stating, “This pendant possesses calming and exorcism qualities. The crystal has been blessed and can guide you through illusions and curses. In ancient times, hypnotists employed it to safeguard their psyches against the perils lurking in the dream world.” With a theatrical gravity, he added, “This pendant has shielded its owners through many generations, and now, as fate has orchestrated, it is your turn to enjoy its protection.”

The situation was steeped in layers of irony and complexity. On one hand, Duncan was selling what might have been perceived as an overpriced dagger, and on the other, he was gifting an amethyst pendant with a tale that was more legend than reality. Yet, for Duncan, the transaction was less about the objects themselves and more about the intricate dance of human relationships, value perceptions, and, above all, the ever-elusive notion of fate.

Morris hesitated, his finger pointing to the tag still affixed to the pendant. “It says here that it’s from Johnny’s Glass Workshop. Are you sure about the ‘ancient’ lineage you mentioned?”

Duncan’s face remained stoic as he reached to remove the tag. “My apologies, I forgot to take it off. It’s a gift; do you honestly believe that I have a surplus of authentic antiques to just give away?”

A look of amusement spread across Morris’s face as he chuckled. “You make a compelling point. Thank you for the ‘gift.’ Perhaps it will help me deal with my daughter’s constant pestering.”

Smiling, Morris accepted the pendant. His hand then delved into his pocket, rummaging for a moment before producing a checkbook. “I didn’t bring enough cash with me today. You can cash this check at any bank in the Crossroad area or even at the Pland Bank in the upper district. Would that be suitable for you?”

“Certainly,” Duncan replied, grinning as he watched Morris meticulously fill out the check.

The mysterious Mr. Morris had intrigued Duncan ever since Nina first mentioned her history teacher. Now that they had met face-to-face, Duncan’s curiosity had only deepened. Everything about Morris—his sophisticated attire, his refined demeanor, his seemingly encyclopedic knowledge of history and antiques—suggested that he was no ordinary person.

The situation gave Duncan pause for thought. Morris seemed like the kind of erudite scholar who ought to be lecturing in a prestigious university in the upper district, not teaching history to high school students in a public school in the modest Crossroad neighborhood. The disparity was baffling.

But even setting aside these other considerations, one glaring question nagged at Duncan: Could a public school teacher like Morris really afford to drop such a hefty sum, equivalent to one and a half years of an average family’s income in the economically struggling lower district, to acquire an antique that had caught his fancy? It was a question that added yet another layer of complexity to the mysterious Mr. Morris, leaving Duncan pondering the true nature of the man he had just entered into a significant transaction with.

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