Divya blinked, staring at the documents now in her grasp. Wait… what?
Just like that? No arguing? No threats?
Before she could even process it, the man turned and walked away, his coat billowing behind him.
Divya stared at the bank papers in her hand, her brain struggling to process what had just happened.
Did I just meet the biggest fool in my life or what?
She had barely even tried, and yet—here she was, holding enough money to live comfortably for years. What kind of rich young master just hands over 3,500 gold without even haggling?
Her fingers tightened around the papers as a ridiculous grin spread across her face.
This world really is full of fools.
But hey, who was she to complain?
She had played the game, raised her price, and somehow, this mysterious, brooding idiot had actually paid up.
At that moment, only one thought flashed through Divya's mind— Beauty has no brain. And standing before her was the prime example of it.
But what Divya didn't know was that this so-called fool—this rich, arrogant young master—was going to be stuck with her for the rest of her life.
Fate had a twisted sense of humor.
While she was busy marveling at his stupidity, completely unaware, the very man she had just scammed would soon become the biggest headache of her life.
Divya, however, had no time to dwell on it. Now that she had enough money, the priority was clear—get out of this place as fast as possible.
With gold in hand, securing a carriage wasn't difficult. Money had a way of smoothing out even the roughest of paths. She moved quickly, finding transport and blending into the travelers on the road. The checkpoints along the way posed little issue. After all, she was just a woman, and in this world, women were treated with exaggerated respect in public—though, ironically, often disregarded within their own homes. Outside, they were symbols of virtue, fragile beings to be handled with care. Inside, they were burdens, problems to be managed. Hypocrisy at its finest.
Still, that worked in her favor. The guards barely spared her a second glance, too caught up in their self-imposed chivalry to bother with a thorough search.
And her money? Well, she wasn't about to make the rookie mistake of flaunting it. Instead of tucking the pouch in her sleeves or tying it around her waist, she stored it in the safest, most time-tested hiding spot known to women throughout history—her chest. A trick as old as time.
.
.
.
That same night, in a dimly lit VIP room of a fancy little restaurant, a heated conversation was unfolding—well, heated on one side, anyway.
Across from Jiren sat a man dressed in deep navy blue, his blue hair tied back with a matching band. Right now, he looked like he was seriously reconsidering all his life choices. His hand was firmly planted on his forehead, his expression a mix of disbelief and sheer exhaustion.
[Jiren: The same foolish walking ATM that threw money at Divya to shut her up.]
"So, my lord," he began, voice dripping with incredulity, "what exactly did you just say you did?"
Jiren, completely unbothered, took a leisurely sip of wine and replied like he was talking about the weather, "I gave her the money to shut her up."
The blue-haired man slapped his forehead so hard it echoed in the room. "Are you actually an idiot, Jiren? You gave money to a random woman you didn't even know just because she threatened you?"
Jiren set his cup down with a soft clink, tilting his head slightly like this was the most boring conversation of his life. "She said she knew about me, so I paid her off."
His companion groaned so dramatically that it could have won an award. He dragged his hands down his face before pinching the bridge of his nose. "And did she have any proof?"
Jiren blinked. "No."
"Did she even see you do the thing?"
Jiren frowned slightly, as if actually thinking about it. "Hmm… probably not?"
The man inhaled deeply, like he was about to deliver a long, well-rehearsed speech about common sense. "So," he said, drawing the word out, "she had no proof. She didn't see anything. She's not even from the ghost cultivators. And yet, she waltzed in, made some vague threat, and you just… handed her 3,500 gold? Just like that?"
Jiren swirled the wine in his cup. "It's just money. What does it matter?"
His companion nearly fell off his chair. "Just money? That was 3,500 gold! Do you even—do you even understand how much that is?"
Jiren finally looked up, eyes calm, voice as relaxed as ever. "The wine you're drinking costs about 2,500 gold."
There was a long pause.
The man looked at the wine in his hand. Then at Jiren. Then back at the wine. His mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. "That's not the same thing!" he finally exploded. "Drinking overpriced wine is one thing, but throwing a fortune at some random woman who tricked you—"
Jiren shrugged, looking far too pleased with himself. "I don't see much of a difference."
The man was completely dumbfounded. He rolled his eyes so hard they nearly got stuck in the back of his head, then grabbed a cup of wine like he needed the alcohol to survive this conversation.
"My lord," he said, voice dripping with betrayal, "that amount of money is enough for a normal household of ten people to live comfortably for ten years. And you just handed it over to some woman?" He took a deep breath like he was about to deliver a groundbreaking solution. "And even if you really wanted to shut her up, couldn't you have just, I don't know, killed her instead?"
Jiren barely spared him a glance, his face the picture of serene indifference. "Well," he said, tone as casual as if they were discussing the weather, "killing is wrong, and I don't want to kill."