Chapter 18: FRIH - 18
She sighed; the answer was obvious. "I'm sorry you spent so much," she whispered. "We were just buying food..." The extravagance weighed on her. She didn't need these relics. The thought of Ronan spending so much seemed wrong. She wasn't accustomed to such wealth. Her focus was on simplicity, survival, and inexpensive magic. Why had he done it?
"Don't apologize; it's a small amount," Ronan said easily, smiling. His words were gentle, dismissive. Six thousand gold coins for thirteen-hundred-year-old artifacts was a bargain, especially since they were mage tools. She didn't need much history to understand their value. But even so, the sum seemed absurd.
Too bad this wasn't the modern world; with Wind Spirit Moon Shadow, no artifact would escape him. He wouldn't let outsiders have them. He dismissed the thought, smiling wryly. He wasn't focused on ownership. The artifacts were tools , for his purpose. What mattered was their use, how they advanced his knowledge or goals. It wasn't the objects, but the action, the moment, the now.
"Six... thousand?" Frieren's eyes widened. Six hundred, not six thousand? Six thousand gold coins was more than a village earned in a year, more than a family saw in multiple lifetimes. It was enormous, almost fantastical.
Adventurers earned two or three gold coins a month at most. Six thousand was three thousand months' income , two hundred and fifty years. That kind of wealth could change a family's fortune for generations. It was unthinkable. Ronan had spent what an adventurer would earn in several lifetimes.
Even if Frieren didn't care about money, it was hard to ignore the absurdity. Money was a tool, a means to acquire necessities. But this wasn't necessary; it was indulgent, lavish.
A question formed: , How much money does Ronan have?
The more she thought about it, the more it gnawed at her. Six thousand meant at least thirty thousand. And judging by his attitude, it was probably over a hundred thousand. He'd dropped that amount like it was nothing.
Why was a Hero so wealthy? Was he a prince? Or from some forgotten line of nobility? Maybe he'd inherited unimaginable riches. What kind of person was he, really? What did he want? Frieren couldn't understand, not when he made it all seem so effortless. It was as if he'd claimed this world for his own, without the usual constraints.
It wasn't surprising she was overthinking; Ronan's attitude towards money was different. He didn't treat it like a scarce resource. To him, it was a tool, a means, not an end. She was used to scarcity, to careful allocation. Money was survival, security. To him, it was like air.
