I Refused to Be the Chosen Hero

Chapter 4: Supplies and Safe Routes

"How many people did you see die on Oxford Street this morning?"

Fabian stared at the skinny young man who had just entered the convenience store with a scratch on his arm. Marcus stood behind the register, ready to take notes. The mist outside was still thick, but it was more stable compared to yesterday.

The young man swallowed hard. "Seven... no, eight. Another one fell into a hole that suddenly opened up in the asphalt. A dark shadow-like monster crawled out of it."

Fabian pressed the buttons on his pocket calculator. "Time of occurrence?"

"Around seven in the morning. I ran here because I heard someone was selling batteries."

"What route did you take from Oxford Street to get here?" Fabian asked again.

"Through the side street behind the old bookstore, then turned onto Gower, and came straight down. Quiet. Only two bodies."

Fabian jotted it down in the Ledger notebook. "Information logged. The price for a box of AA batteries is now 180 pounds. What do you have?"

The young man pulled out a thin wallet and two silver rings. "Just this."

"Enough for one box and a bottle of water," Fabian said. "In addition: I'm selling this morning's version of the safe route map for 50 pounds. It incorporates data from five prior reports."

The young man hesitated. "A map? You're making maps?"

"I calculate probabilities," Fabian replied. "I feed every survivor report into a model. Spawn points for the holes, monster movement patterns, mist density. I sell routes with a risk factor under 20 percent. Do you want it or not?"

"I'll take it," the young man said quickly. He handed over an additional ring. Fabian handed him a hand-drawn sheet of paper marked with lines and percentage figures at every turn.

After the young man left, Marcus let out a sigh. "You're really selling information like it's physical inventory."

"Information is inventory that never runs out as long as you keep gathering it," Fabian replied. He pointed to a large map he had begun pinning up on the wall of the staff room. "Look. Out of the ten reports this morning, three main northbound routes already carry a risk over 60 percent. Two side routes are still under 25 percent. People will pay to not die."

Someone knocked on the door again. A middle-aged woman walked in with a young boy trailing behind her. "Please... we need water and food. My son hasn't eaten since yesterday."

Fabian looked at them. "A case of water is 120 pounds. Canned tuna is 40 pounds per can. If you have route information I don't possess yet, I'll give you a discount."

The woman paused, then spoke rapidly. "I came through Charing Cross. There's a large group led by some arrogant blond guy. Arthur something. He's rallying people to enter an underground station that turned into a dungeon. Says it's a Main Quest."

Fabian turned to Marcus. "Log it."

Marcus wrote it down. Fabian tapped on his calculator again. "Station dungeon. Estimated difficulty rating based on yesterday's System data: intermediate. Initial casualty rate for an untrained group: 45 to 55 percent. How many people did Arthur take with him?"

"Roughly fifteen," the woman answered. "He claimed the System chose him. A lot of people followed because he said they'd get skills."

"Thank you," Fabian said. "I'll discount the water to 80 pounds. Take two cans of tuna."

The woman paid with a small piece of jewelry and quickly left with her son. Fabian added a red dot to the wall map. "Arthur has made his move. Exactly as predicted."

Marcus scratched his head. "Aren't you worried he might succeed and become stupidly strong?"

"I'm worried about running out of tea stock and mana batteries before prices peak," Fabian answered. He walked to the back shelf and lifted two boxes of Earl Grey he had just uncovered deep inside the storage room. "Restock the floor. Yesterday Lady Seraphine bought a mana battery. Tomorrow someone else will show up with an arrogant face and a thick wallet."

The door opened once more. A man wearing a short cloak, his face covered in dust, stepped inside winded. "Are you The Ledger? I heard you sell safe routes."

"Correct," Fabian answered. "Report what you saw first. After that, we talk about prices."

The man nodded quickly. "I came from the direction of the British Museum. The mist is thicker over there. Three monster spawns. But if you take a right after the main gate and cut through the narrow alley, it's clear all the way here. Didn't run into a soul."

Fabian plugged in the data. The calculator soft-clicked. "Risk probability on that route is currently 18 percent. Good. The latest version of the map is 60 pounds. A small mana battery is 220 pounds. Which one do you want?"

"Both," the man said. He pulled out a pouch of raw mana stones. "Is this enough?"

Fabian weighed it. "It's enough. Transaction recorded."

After the man left, Fabian stood before the wall map, which was increasingly crowded with lines and figures. "Six routes mapped. Three of them I'm selling at an 800-plus percent margin. Tea inventory is safe for four days if sales remain steady."

Marcus sat on his chair, wiping sweat from his forehead. "Arthur and his group are inside the dungeon right now, right? What if they come out with crazy strong skills and come here to seize our stock by force?"

"They will come," Fabian replied calmly. "And they will pay. People who think they're chosen always need supplies after their first quest. I just need to make sure prices have gone up by the time that happens."

The System screen appeared before Fabian.

[Observation update: Primary target Arthur Pendleton has entered the station dungeon]

[Current group success rate: 41%]

[Fabian Hart remains in non-mandatory support status]

Fabian dismissed the notification. "Let them be. I have maps, inventory, and buyers."

A teenage boy suddenly burst in, out of breath. "Please! My brother is injured outside! We need a potion!"

Fabian looked at him. "Small stamina potions are still in stock. 160 pounds. Route information on where you came from can earn you a discount."

The boy spoke rapidly about the path he took, dangerous spots, and Arthur's group he had seen entering the station entrance carrying a small flag. Fabian recorded it all, applied a discount, and handed over the potion.

After the boy left helping his injured brother, Marcus locked the door again. "Twelve information trades today already. You really turned news of people dying into merchandise."

"Death is data," Fabian replied as he added a new line to the map. "Data processed into probabilities. Probabilities sold for profit. The Ledger doesn't sell hope. The Ledger sells numbers that keep people alive longer."

He opened the box of Earl Grey and arranged the tins on a designated shelf already marked with new prices. In another corner, mana batteries were stacked neatly. Outside, the mist shifted slowly. Somewhere underground, Arthur Pendleton was leading his group into the dungeon, convinced of his status as a chosen hero.

Fabian didn't need to see it for himself. He had already calculated the odds of their return. And when they returned, The Ledger would be ready with inventory and adjusted prices.