94 MATTERS OF MONEY

At one of the staircases connecting the twelfth and the thirteenth decks, there were two guards and a group of three Dustbin Diggers, the latter of which was forcibly taking an item or two from every person looking to use the stairs. A small cage filled with downcast cats they had caught was nearby. Unlike other parties, they had used a three-legged rat as bait. Pocketing some coins by handing the cats over to the referee was on their minds.

"I'm getting tired of waiting. What if that bastard never shows up and spends his time hiding somewhere on this deck?"

"How long can he hide?"

"He's been quiet as a mouse, but he's gonna come out eventually, and when he does, he'll suffer. The sooner he comes out and admits his guilt, the better it is for him."

Just then, a light brown-haired man with the number 330 tattooed on his cheek climbed down the stairs. None of three members of Dustbin Diggers dared to look him in the eye. Even the guards just kept their heads tilted down until he swaggered into the distance.

"Whew, what's a guy from the seventh belt doing here?"

"Maybe he's a reviewer."

"But he isn't wearing the uniform."

"Well, it's not an obligation, right?"

As the three members chatted, Burton entered the street and came into their view.

Their expressions brightened as Burton came from the direction the light brown-haired man just went in. "That purple hair… he's the one." The three of them forthwith charged Burton like annoyed beasts while carrying garbage baskets on their backs.

"You seriously expect to fight me with that baggage?" Burton said, "I'm getting excited."

"Don't underestimate us!"

"Well, what a surprise. You saw through my sarcasm. Very good. Well done!" Burton clapped, incensing them further.

"You are dead meat!" they roared.

"Am I now?" Burton smiled and waited until they closed in. As the closest man launched his fist, Burton sidestepped and used his lead leg to circle the three men at high speed, then stopped in front of those three again, causing them to freeze in their footsteps and look at him with bafflement. His sheer speed and expertise in moving nimbly made three bellies cramp. "Along the way, I've come across a few members from your gang or guild or whatever you call yourselves. I've dealt with them, but now I'm not in the mood to waste my energy on you hoodlums," Burton adjusted the unkempt shirt collar on the one standing in the front. "Tell your boss to spend time on why I had to fight his men rather than on finding me so he could get his little revenge. If not, I'll be forced to shift my focus, in which case, his whole world will be turned upside down, understood?" Burton politely smiled.

"So the boss who sent you guys here hasn't yet spared a thought for me," Burton casually said, "or he's not among those dozens of light-under-bushels."

"You little!" the three of them couldn't control their anger, but the one in the front acted first by recklessly throwing a punch.

Burton grabbed the fist with ease. "Taking me lightly just because I was having a peaceful conversation, are you?" he twisted the wrist, causing the man to scream. The other two men attacked him. Burton used the man he was holding a shield from one of the attackers. At that moment, the third man grabbed his arm and tried to twist it with brute force. Burton kicked in his knee, forcing him to lower his head in pain. A swift punch to the face made him crash on his back, crushing the basket and the food items inside. A foul smell wafted about. In a flash, Burton whooshed through the gap between the remaining two men and pushed them down to the floor by their faces. His palms continued to iron their faces. "I try not to take any pleasure in crushing the weak, so stay down, or I might crush you like a bug."

Other than wincing, there was no response from them, so Burton stood, rubbed his hands, and walked away.

"Enjoy your time because your days are numbered," one of those three men gathered courage and shouted while still staying down.

Burton, however, didn't stop until he reached the staircase. He glanced at the cage full of felines. "Cats may feel safe in a cage but never satisfied," he kicked it, sending it flying into a wall. The cage fell, and the door broke open. The cats speedily scurried out and away in double-quick time.

"Y-You!" the three men found themselves boiling in rage. "You are courting disaster."

Burton faintly smiled and then sought to climb the stairs. The two guards blocked his path. After he gave his name, they checked it through the updated list. His name was there, so they took his signature and thumbprint and then changed the tattoo on his left wrist from twelve to thirteen. Afterward, they moved away and made way for him. "Please go ahead."

Burton climbed the stairs as he unfolded his sleeves. "I hope I can find the ring," he looked a bit sad and down-hearted as he remembered about his precious ring. "Once I find it, I'm sure I can buy it no matter the cost."

At Drill Clinic, a few hours after the incident with Lirzod and Nick.

The dog that Lirzod had brought was still unconscious at the corner of the room. Though Lirzod had put the dog on the bed, Mulyk had moved it to the corner and then proceeded with the skin-deep treatment.

Beren was lying unconsciously on a bed, with his severed arm reattached using what looked like thin tree roots. Hundred was also resting on a neighboring bed, for he was transferring his blood to the boy using a mosquito needle. Two moderately hardened veins made out of cloud leeches connected the mosquito needles to a white translucent bottle made by hardening a cloud turtle stomach that was capable of converting any blood type to universal donor type, though its capabilities waned with usage. Usually, a regular cloud turtle stomach could be used for about thirty times with no problems, as long as it wasn't utilized in a continuous period.

As for Beren's left eye, it was gone. A leaf was covering the eye socket now.

Mulyk pressed the vein a little at a spot and controlled the speed of the blood flow, for the vein took time to regain its natural shape. By pressing it at different points with varying applied force, she was able to precisely control the rate at which blood coursed through the veins, both from the donor and the recipient.

"He'll be able to use his arm again, wouldn't he?" Hundred asked in a bit of a somber tone.

"The arm was ripped out with brute force-fu," Mulyk replied, giving away just a bit of emotion in her tone, "so he won't be able to use it well anytime soon. After that, it depends on his luck. If he meets some good priest or healer, then he may be able to use his arm like in the past. In any case, with my treatment, he should be able to do menial tasks in about twenty weeks, assuming he takes proper rest, of course."

"Twenty weeks, huh. That's a long time." He glanced at Beren. "I wonder how he'll handle it when he's in such a state."

"His physical suffering is one thing, but what he suffered mentally is what he should be more worried about," Mulyk said while briefly rubbing Beren's feet. "I've seen many patients. Incidents like these will take away all the confidence from his heart. At best, he may stay weak. At worst, his hands may fail to make fists even when fingers get pointed at him or his people for no reason."

Hundred didn't say anything, for he was also referring to the same thing. After suffering such a mental trauma in the hands of his father, how would he spend twenty weeks while being handicapped? And there might not be anyone to help him, either.

Mulyk narrowed her eyes as she gazed upon Beren. (He might get back to his usual self if he's a son of a gun like the scar-faced brat, Lirzod. He was one hell of a guy seeing how he brushed aside the experience of an explosion that took him close to death, and also bovine enough to bring a dog into my clinic.)

Meanwhile, on the same deck, in S Block, the surveillance room's entrance had two cherry blossom trees on either side, with leaves falling piece by piece.

Both Sariyu and 777 came out of the room. Judging by the way she carelessly stepped on the cherry blossom petals, it was easy to tell that she wasn't in a good mood. After all, she had been kept in the surveillance room for many hours only to learn they didn't have anything she required.

"These idiots wasted my time for nothing," Sariyu ground her teeth to vent her frustration at the surveillance staff who called themselves as inspectors. She glanced at 777, setting off a cold breeze at his face, "Didn't you say that there are eyes everywhere on this ship? Why didn't they get the feed of what was happening in the test hall?"

"U-Uh, I didn't say that there are eyes everywhere, but I only said that it's better for us to think that way when we are outside our rooms," 777 replied in a definite yet soft tone. "After all, they can't put surveillance on every street. Like the name sounds, it mainly keeps watch on those who previously committed crimes, at least as far as I know. That said, it's unexpected that they didn't have the footage of the test hall as well. Probably, the surveilling system failed for some reason. Why do you want to take a look at it so badly anyway?"

"I just want to know what exactly happened back then before I go meet those brothers?"

"What?" 777 was momentarily surprised. "You want to meet them?" His eyes took on a haunted look. "For what?"

"To make an apology."

"Huh?" 777 seemed to be puzzled and even somewhat distressed. After mulling over things a bit, he voiced his mind, "Do you really want to apologize to those guys after everything they've tried to pull? They almost killed your friend Lirzod."

Sariyu subtly clenched her fists, but then loosened them a second later. "Yeah, but he's not dead. That's what matters now. The life of my friend is more important than his feuds. If all it takes is an apology to erase the bad blood between them, then I can't just sit and do nothing."

777 just stayed silent.

"Also, I need to ask them about something else, too…" she said, and the memory of the explosion came back to her mind. (How did a simple punch explode like that? Even the one throwing the punch got blown away. Something just wasn't right. I should first go and ask the referee and hear his side of the story. Then I'll head over to those brothers.)

Meanwhile, elsewhere on the twelfth deck, a kitten had been following Lirzod, but he shooed it away, yelling, "I'm not your mother. Go away, or the dogs might get you!"

Still, the kitten kept meowing nonstop as it followed him.

"I don't have any food if that's what you want. Leave!"

Still, nothing changed.

Just as he was getting tired of the kitten's dumb pursuit, the mother cat came over, grabbed the kitten by the neck, and moved to safety by entering an abandoned room through a broken window.

"Whew…" Lirzod breathed a sigh of relief, but there was wonder on his face, for there wasn't a single cat raised or born in Helenia, his hometown. If a feline were to enter the town, people would chase it out right away either directly or with the help of dogs, so he rarely ever saw them before. "Just what is a cat? They can't guard like dogs, but they eat all the time, and they crap everywhere," he thought as he kept going. "They seem to enjoy freedom more than the dogs and maybe even mankind. Humans have school, stress, jobs, taxes, and obligations, but cats—just meow. Such confounding creatures..."

Just then, someone put a hand on his shoulder. The hand was heavy and gripping. When Lirzod glanced back, there was a man in a smiling mask, his eyes swelling out through the mask, giving the vibes of a creep. "Don't move." He put a revolver near Lirzod's waist, though most of the weapon was kept hidden in his long sleeve. "Keep walking." He cocked the hammer.

"W-What do you want?" Lirzod's heart skipped a beat, but he began to walk.

"Not much," he replied, walking side by side. "You don't need to worry too much. I'm one of the Nice Folks, so I keep my word. Hand over the money you earned in the staff-spinning competition, and I'll walk away without touching so much as your hair."

"What?" Lirzod was startled. His face lost some amount of blood. "But I already gave it away."

"Stop lying," the masked man's voice turned hoarse. "You don't want a bullet in your liver, trust me."

"I-I'm telling the truth," Lirzod's voice turned a bit shaky. "You can check my pockets."

The masked man paused for a moment and commanded, "Show me your pockets."

A bead of sweat trickled down his temple as Lirzod pulled out the pockets, and he was right. His pockets were empty.

"Whom did you give it to?" the masked man's eyes sparkled with spleen as he pressed the revolver into Lirzod's waist. "Lie," he leaned closer, "and I'll find you and put a hole in your head. No one will ever know who sent you into your grave."

Lirzod frowned. His blood was up. His right arm instantly smacked the masked man's hand.

BANG!

A cracking noise echoed in the street as the bullet split the air into shockwaves and ricocheted off the wall.

The revolver fell out of the masked man's hand, and at the same time, the air pressure the rotating cylinder gave off tore the cloth on Lirzod waist and bruised his skin.

However, in that split second, Lirzod promptly swiveled and elbowed in the masked man's face from the front.

The masked cracked and broke as he abruptly crashed on his back. Blood poured out of his broken nose, and his sight turned blurrier than that of an aged lady. By the time he regained his sight, Lirzod was checking the revolver.

"How do you remove the bullets?" Lirzod was bemused. As he worked on the revolver, he unknowingly pointed the muzzle at the masked man and himself a few times.

"W-Wait… don't shoot me," the masked man faltered as he got back to his feet. He was no longer wearing any mask. His red nose turned bluer by the second as it was the same with Lirzod's waist, though Lirzod didn't show any trace of pain in his face.

"I won't shoot you, but tell me how you take the bullets out," asked Lirzod.

"O-Okay," the bloody-nosed man croaked, for some blood rushed up into his mouth. He coughed a little and then explained from a few feet away while subconsciously standing in a knees-locked posture.

"I see," Lirzod marveled, his eyes sparkling like the desert sand during the golden hour upon successfully removing six more bullets from the cylinder.

"I told you how to unload it, so please let me go," the bloody-nosed man was walking backward with his heart in his mouth.

"You don't want your gun?" asked Lirzod, lifting his brows.

"What?" the bloody-nosed man puzzled and quivered in his shoes at the thought that he was getting teased.

"I already broke your nose for pointing a gun at me," said Lirzod. "Since you've explained to me how to take the bullets out, I don't want to tear you down anymore. Just do a thousand sit-ups, and I'll give the gun back."

"Huh?" the bloody-nosed man gasped. (What's he talking about? Is he trying to make me stay here so others will gather here upon catching the echo of the shot I had fired? I'm not so foolish! I have to leave right away, but I can't go without the revolver either. It'll give away my identity.) As tension bloomed in his stomach, he crafted a painful and pitiful expression and said with his heart in his throat, "T-Thousand sit-ups are too much, sir. I have knee pains. How about ten sit-ups?"

"If you have such a health issue," Lirzod scratched his cheek with the muzzle of the gun, "it can't be helped. Ten is enough."

The bloody-nosed man's heart was beating even faster now. (What's with this guy? I can't guess what he's thinking. What is he up to?) He was so confused and doubtful that he wanted to scratch his own face, but given his current situation, there was nothing much he could do. Without wasting time, he quickly finished the ten sit-ups, and then acted as if his knees were already in significant pain. "Can you hand over the revolver?" His gaze was gutless as he made eye-contact.

"Sure, but show me your pockets first," Lirzod brazenly said, his arms spreading wide. "After I make sure you're not hiding more bullets, I'll give you the gun."

"Alright," the bloody-nosed man pulled out his pockets while cold sweat filmed his body. There were only a few silver coins and some copper coins inside.

"Mm," Lirzod then tossed the revolver into the distance, "there you go."

Both their heartbeats quickened at this moment.

As the bloody-nosed man hurried to pick up the revolver, Lirzod hastened away in the opposite direction.

The bloody-nosed man took the revolver and ran without looking back. He didn't stop even after crossing the street and kept going.

Lirzod, on the other hand, was still looking vigilant, even though he had covered a few hundred meters. He placed his hand on his waist. (It hurts. To think even the shirt has a hole in it… I'm sure I pushed his hand away, and the gun wasn't facing in my direction, yet I received some damage. Guns are pretty nasty.)

A few seconds passed as Lirzod looked for an empty room with a window to throw the bullets in, and he eventually found one.

After dropping the bullets through the window, he got going.

"Come to think of it... no one came even after the shot had fired. I didn't even see anyone yet. No wonder he attacked me in these empty streets. Things could have gotten dangerous, but luckily, nothing bad happened. Why was I even roaming there in the first place?" He pondered for a bit. "Ah, I was thinking about earning coins to pay for Beren's treatment."

Lirzod was lost in thought as he plodded through a corridor. His mind drifted to many things.

Mulyk had told him that it would cost ten silver pieces to attach a severed arm of a child. Another silver piece as a service fee. There was even a patient-membership fee, which was three silver per month. Those with a membership could freely enter the clinic and get treated for some common injuries without having to pay the service fee every single time. Normally, Mulyk wouldn't have taken Beren in until she got paid; however, after taking some fish meat from Lirzod and also recently receiving a watermelon delivered by a shopkeeper sent by Lirzod, she felt like she owed him a bit, so she agreed to get paid afterward.

Right now, Lirzod had just fifty copper pieces, and he didn't know where he could find eleven silver. The first person that came to his mind was Sariyu, but he didn't know where she was. Though he thought of going to the test hall to make a bet, he was also afraid of losing whatever he had. At that moment, he saw someone chasing after a cat, trying to catch it. Just then, Lirzod remembered that there was still five copper prize money for every cat caught. However, he frowned at the thought of taking away a cat's freedom and then thought of other ways.

As he roamed, he got tired and chose to sit on a rock bench. A small sharp stone made him jump onto his feet. He flicked the stone away and sat again. A few seconds of rubbing his butt on the bench made him settle down comfortably.

"I don't want to do anything," he said aloud, but there was no one around to hear.

He was alone in the street. Dullness gradually stiffened his face, slumping his shoulders further.

For some reason, he remembered Allda's words once spoken in public in the market after Allda refused to help pay for someone who didn't have enough money to buy a good. "Call me complacent or whatever, but to my ears, the cries of the poor sound like a chicken giving birth. Life is simple for those who have deep pockets. After all, most situations in life are matters of money. If you have wealth, then you automatically have the upper hand. You rarely ever bow before others. That's the sort of simple life those with wisdom seek."

Lirzod touched his head and contemplated things. Because he didn't have enough money, he was out on the street, not knowing what to do to earn some coins quickly. On the one hand, he was thinking about meeting up with Sariyu soon. On the other hand, he had to help Beren. Then again, he was worried if he would be able to calm the boy's heart or not. The bruise on his waist also affected his thinking a bit, but the fact that someone pointed a revolver at him only minutes ago also significantly swayed his mood. Currently, life felt a bit complicated for him. So he just sat there, not wanting to do anything.

Just then, his stomach grumbled. A pause. His eyes soon widened in surprise.

"Uncle Allda, you're somewhat right."

At that moment, he understood that Allda's words had some truth in them, but then he believed that money alone couldn't solve all things. Even if Big Nick were to give a bunch of coins to Beren, it wouldn't make the boy feel any better about his own situation, let alone change the impression on his father.

"Life is simple, but it's much simpler than you've put it. The problem isn't just about money. I'm feeling stressed because I didn't even remember my body's condition and forgot that I'm hungry. I'm not sure if my aid will really help Beren or not. Not feeling okay with what I'm doing is why I feel strange right now. But life isn't strange. It's simple." He rubbed his belly, "You are hungry, or you're not." He put his hand on his waist at the wounded spot, "You're healthy, or you're not." He pulled out his pockets, "You're wealthy, or you're not." With his head tilted down, he put his hands on his thighs and clenched them into fists, "You're happy, or you're not. You're good, or you're not. You're loving, or you're not. The chain goes on. But it's not easy to choose between these two extremes, so most of the time, we take refuge in between, in the shades of gray, like someone sitting on the fence. It's ourselves who are making our lives harder, and then we complain about it. Quite thick and tentative brains we have. If not for that, our lives would be a lot more beautiful."

He then slapped himself for sitting and wishing to do nothing, even though it was only for a few seconds. After all, the action he took to save Beren wouldn't mean much if he withdrew his help midway.

He took a deep breath. "Let's keep things simple. Beren's only a child, and since I admitted him into the clinic, I will take responsibility. His father might not appreciate it, but it can't be helped. My father said it's important to do what's right. That's all I'm trying to do." He then pouted a little. "Why wouldn't the elf girl take some responsibility, though? What if Beren was her brother?" He briefly paused and then sighed. "Come to think of it... she charged for my treatment, too. That girl is so ungenerous. I bet she took the healer profession for stacking coins through to heaven[1]."

He let out a breath and then wandered through his thought-garden, hoping to chance on a fruitful encounter.

Time passed, but Lirzod couldn't think of anything that could make him earn such an amount in so short of a time. It made him remember the time when his mother sent him to Deadwell town on a mission to earn a silver coin in six hours. Though he had that experience under his belt, it didn't give him any substantial confidence.

Just then, he overheard the conversation of passersby who just entered the street.

"Hey, how much did you profit from this trip?"

"I converted ten copper pieces to thirty-two."

"Oh, not bad."

"What about you?"

"I only converted four copper to forty copper."

"Eh? What did you win?"

"The deca-ring contest."

"That's why you've earned so much. I better improve my archery skills before I hit Heat Street again."

"Hehe, I'm gonna do the same, but I wish you good luck."

Upon overhearing their conversation, Lirzod's eyes lit up. "I totally forgot about that place!" He stood quickly, albeit with some effort, and headed straight to Heat Street.

A few minutes later. Lirzod somehow arrived at the Heat Street after getting confused with the routes a couple of times. As usual, the neighborhood was hotter and smelled like sweat from people exerting themselves day and night. He asked around and didn't take long to find out where the deca-ring contest was taking place. To his surprise, this event wasn't happening inside a small shop, but outside in free space with ten large metallic rings placed three meters apart from each other, their sizes in descending order, with the smallest ring being the farthest one from the archer. Each ring had a different color than the other. The white-colored one was the closest; the gold-colored one being the farthest, with black, red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, and violet in between.

Tens of contestants were already waiting in line for their turn, so Lirzod joined the line without further thought. Afterward, he patiently observed other contestants. The distance between the contestant and the first ring was twenty meters. From where Lirzod stood in the line, even the first ring itself didn't look that big. As time went by, he somehow understood the rules.

The contestant could bet anywhere from one to ten copper coins. If they managed to shoot through the first ring, then their money would be returned. If they managed to shoot through both the first and the second ring, then their money would be doubled. If their arrow went through all the ten rings, then they would receive ten times what they had bet.

Also, any contestant could bet three times consecutively even if they failed to shoot through the first ring. However, if they succeed in an attempt, they would get three more chances, so they wouldn't need to go back and stand in line again for another try. Overall, the rules were pretty simple for Lirzod to understand.

On average, one of five contestants succeeded in shooting through at least one ring, but only a handful triumphed in shooting through both the first and the second ring. As for shooting through more rings at a time, nobody had succeeded. Whenever Lirzod got bored, he looked to his left at another archery event that was happening next to this event, where the target was to hit a strawberry placed on the crown of a deer doll. It was a male deer, and the antlers were blocking the target, so it wasn't easy, and everybody kept failing, so he was glad that he hadn't participated in that event.

As Lirzod's turn neared, he couldn't help but be excited and, at the same time, tensed. The image of Trirera flashed in his mind. (I wish Little Arrow is here.) Trirera was an excellent archer. On mornings, she often hunted the boars, rats, snakes, and such wild beasts that destroyed the farming lands. Over the years, she came to be known as Little Arrow. Unlike her, Lirzod rarely touched a bow, so he couldn't help but feel a bit anxious, even though he wasn't an outright newbie. Still, it didn't help that he also didn't have gadgets like finger tabs or gloves that some others had brought along. So he prepared himself for some pain.

Eventually, his turn came. He walked up to the mark, a line on the floor. He bet one copper coin, and then the event manager handed him a bow and arrow. It was a basic bow, but it was surprisingly weighty, and the string was rather rough. Lirzod right away understood that it was a wise move from the event manager, for a heavy bow would be hard for most beginners to use. Also, rough strings increased the chances of archers hurting themselves. However, ignoring all the negative thoughts, he sucked in a breath and took aim.

The event manager was a little surprised by seeing the way Lirzod had nocked the arrow and gripped the string. (Nocking wasn't bad, but a three-fingered grip, huh. Such a traditional thing.) He subtly smirked. (Let's see how he loses.) Just then, his eyes drew in more light upon looking at Lirzod's gaze, which seemed to be focused not on the first ring but the tenth ring. (This boy—don't tell me, he's a professional!) As seconds passed, a bead of sweat appeared on his forehead. (If so, why did he bet only one copper piece? Is he trying to warm up first?)

Lirzod let go of the string, and the arrow whistled through the air; however, to the event manager's surprise, it didn't even go into the first ring but went at least a meter away on the right side.

(Never mind.) The event manager felt like slapping himself. (I was worried over nothing!)

Lirzod pursed his lips. (I thought that aiming at the center would be the right thing to do, and I put some extra strength in the pull, hoping it'd reach the tenth ring, but my balance went through the window as I let go of the string. Even the bow shook a little.) He sighed. (Geez, it's been too long since I touched a bow, and I don't remember much of what was taught. I hope some of the knowledge will come back before I go broke.) He could only hope to recollect some memories soon, so he could try shooting arrows better.

"Do you want to continue?" as the event manager was asking, Lirzod flicked a copper coin, and then he was allowed to pick another arrow.

Lirzod aimed again.

This time the event manager effortlessly saw through Lirzod's flaws. (His feet aren't wide apart. They should be shoulder-width apart. He didn't even align the body properly to keep it perpendicular to the target, and his chin is nowhere near the shoulder. His left hand looks kind of stiff even though the elbow was bent a little.) He let out an audible breath. (All he did correctly was raise the bow to where he's looking down the arrow. But that isn't enough to get the job done. And wait, he doesn't even know how to anchor. He brought it almost to the level of his eyes!) He screamed on the inside. (I can't believe I mistook this idiot for a pro! He's a total noob!)

Lirzod let go of the string, and the arrow whooshed through the wind and hit the ring, fell on the other side, surprising the event manager, for the arrow went through the ring before crashing on the floor.

"Hehe," like an excited child trying hard to fake his excitement, Lirzod picked up another arrow without even asking the event manager for confirmation and aimed once more.

The event manager secretly gnashed his teeth a little, but then openly smiled and clapped before he moved from Lirzod's right side to the left side to collect some arrows. After amassing the arrows into the bucket, he then folded his arms and stood straight. His gaze turned a bit cold again as he observed Lirzod's stance. (Hmph! His posture is still as poor. You were lucky last time, even though your release was a bit too sudden. But miracles don't happen in a row!)

This time, Lirzod looked calmer than the previous two times. His full focus was on keeping the bow stable during the release. However, just as he was about to let go of the string, a fly toured his nose and came out immediately, but it left an itching in the nose. Something stirred inside. Even though he wanted to hold it in, it was too late. It all happened so quickly.

ACHOO~~!!

He didn't know what had happened as he sneezed, but his fingers were no longer holding on to the string.

......

[1] Stacking coins through to heaven: A saying meant for those who likely wish they can take their earthly wealth into heaven if they stack coins up to heaven. This saying was created by Surya Chand and was often used in his works.