The Currency Crisis (or How I Almost Died to Economics)
I know I'm fucked up.
But now?
I'm way beyond fucked up.
I stared down at my open palms like they were evidence in my own trial.
One hand—a 100-yen coin, silver and worthless.
Other hand—a one-dollar bill, green and equally worthless.
And in front of me?
Mama Mia.
Her shadow fell across the table like an executioner's axe. Arms crossed. Muscles bulging. Eyes locked on me with the kind of focus that said she'd already calculated exactly which wall my skull would hit first and how many pieces it'd break into.
My head is about to plant itself on one of these walls, I thought distantly.
A reminder.
A warning.
Don't fuck with Mama Mia.
The faint dents in the woodwork around me suddenly made a lot more sense.
I swallowed hard.
This was it.
The moment where all my fan knowledge, all my careful theorizing, all my desperate optimism—
—died to basic economics.
The Reckoning
"What the hell are you doing here, you little shrimp?"
The voice hit me like a thrown table.
Every adventurer within earshot felt that tone. The warmth of the tavern—meat, ale, laughter—suddenly sharpened into danger.
Behind the counter stood Mama Mia, arms crossed, veins bulging like they'd been personally insulted by my existence.
"You think you can eat without paying?" she continued, eyes narrowing to slits. "Should I fry you and feed you to the customers?"
My soul left my body.
Like—physically evacuated. Gone. Filing a restraining order against my own consciousness.
"No—Mama Mia!" someone cut in quickly, desperately. "Customers aren't to be messed around with. Please calm down."
A gentle voice. Soft. Perfectly timed.
I didn't need to look to know who it was.
(There! My goddess Freya—no, wait—Syr—saving me!)
Syr Flova appeared beside the counter, hands folded, expression innocent enough to disarm a war god. That soft, teddy-bear face radiated pure please-don't-kill-him energy.
Mama Mia clicked her tongue. "Hmph."
She leaned forward—shadow swallowing me whole—and her tone shifted. Fast. Way too fast. From accusation to interrogation.
"You, little boy." Her eyes drilled into my soul. "You pay when you eat."
A pause.
"You got money?"
"Are you lost, maybe?" Syr asked gently, concern plastered across her face like frosting on a cake made of lies and divine conspiracy.
The tavern went quiet in that special way—like everyone was pretending not to listen while listening very hard.
I swallowed.
Then, with all the dignity of a doomed man facing his final moments—
I reached into my pocket.
And pulled out—
—a one-dollar bill.
Then, from the other pocket—
—a 100-yen coin.
I held them up.
Silence.
Dead silence.
Then—
"…What is that?"
Heaven (Briefly)
Before I could answer, chaos erupted.
All the girls—all of them except the green-haired elf behind the counter and Mama Mia herself—crowded in instantly.
Anya Fromel leaned in first, cat ears twitching, eyes sparkling like Christmas lights.
"Looks cool, nyaaa~!"
A hand shot out toward the dollar bill.
Chloe Lolo grinned lazily, already halfway to stealing it. "I want it, nyaaa."
"Is it foreign currency?"
"Where'd you get this?"
"Can I keep it?"
"It's so weird!"
I stood there, frozen, surrounded by women who could break me in half, all of them leaning close, voices overlapping, hands reaching—
Is this heaven? I thought distantly.
Am I dead?
Did Mama Mia already kill me and this is the afterlife?
Behind them, Lyu Lion stood silently at the counter. Arms crossed. Eyes sharp. Measuring.
Not curious.
Observing.
And then—
SLAM.
Mama Mia's palm hit the counter like a gavel.
The sound alone shut the room down.
Every girl froze. Stepped back. Suddenly very interested in other tables.
Mama Mia loomed over me again, eyes like cannonballs.
"Kid."
I nodded. Hard. Fast. Repeatedly.
"This time," she said slowly, cracking her knuckles one by one, "you got out."
Thank you thank you thank you—
"But next time?"
Oh no.
"I'll smack you." She pointed one massive finger at my face. "Got that?"
"Mmmmm," I answered intelligently, because my brain had fully disconnected from speech centers.
She jerked her chin toward the door. "Now scram."
"Mmmmm," I replied again, bowing so hard I nearly folded in half.
I slid off the stool like a man escaping a dragon's lair—backwards, hands raised, eyes never leaving her face.
The door shut behind me.
Tak. Tak. Taktak.
The Street.
My footsteps echoed into the night as the warmth of the tavern faded and reality returned like a slap.
I stopped in the middle of the street.
Breathing hard.
Alive.
"…Now I need money."
Not coins.
Not curiosities.
Not foreign currency that made cute waitresses crowd around me.
Valis.
I looked up toward the massive tower rising over the city—Babel, glowing faintly against the night sky, the Dungeon entrance yawning beneath it like the mouth of something ancient and hungry.
The air itself hummed with danger.
And promise.
I grinned.
"No choice then."
I clenched my fists, feeling that faint warmth on my back respond—quiet, eager, ready.
The ghost falna stirred.
Not loud. Not flashy.
Just there.
"Dungeon," I said, stepping forward into the night.
"I'm coming."
And this time?
I meant it.
Epilogue: The Plan
Step 1: Don't die.
Step 2: Get magic stones.
Step 3: Convert magic stones to valis.
Step 4: Return to Hostess of Fertility.
Step 5: Pay for food like a functional member of society.
Step 6: Don't get suplexed by Mama Mia.
Simple.
Foolproof.
What could possibly go wrong?
I walked toward Babel Tower, hands still tingling from where the girls had touched my weird foreign money, heart still pounding from the near-death experience.
The night swallowed me whole as I walked toward the Dungeon.
Tomorrow, I'd learn what my ghost falna could really do.
Tonight?
I survived Mama Mia.
That alone deserved a medal.
💀
Behind him, a pair of sharp green eyes watched from the tavern window.
Lyu Lion tilted her head slightly.
"…Strange," she murmured.
Then turned back to work.
***