Kays Translations
Just another Isekai Lover~
Chapter 3: Starting Off in Debt by Five Hundred Thousand Gold Coins
Merlin took the envelope that Fitt handed over, his eyes falling upon the crest of the Leo family.
The Leo crest was a deep blue shield. At its center stood a golden lion, front paw tightly gripping a silver sword—an emblem of courage and justice. To the left, three silver wavy lines ran down, symbolizing the family’s profound ties to the sea; to the right, three golden lilies bloomed, a mark of purity and nobility.
Merlin studied the envelope in his hand and began slowly tearing it open. At his side, Louis Fitt was still rambling on and on.
“Damn it, that messenger owl is still in my room. My blueberries will all be gone at this rate! Merlin, I won’t make you pay me back, but you’ll have to lend me your alchemy homework. You’ve finished it, haven’t you?”
“Even if you haven’t, it’s fine—we’ll do it together. Of course, you’ll write, and I’ll copy!”
“These past few days I’ve been too busy, meditating on how to break through to Junior Mage and finally shed this tiresome Apprentice title. Don’t worry, I definitely haven’t been hanging around the tavern with those dwarves lately!”
In this world, mages were bound by a strict hierarchy. Their rank was determined by the amount of magic stored in their bodies and the spells they had mastered.
From lowest to highest, the order was:
Magic Apprentice — beginners just starting under a mentor’s guidance, learning basic magical knowledge and skills.
Apprentice Mage — those who had grasped some elementary magic but still required further study and practice.
Junior Mage — capable of casting simple spells independently, though far from mastery.
Intermediate Mage — possessing solid attainment in magic, able to cast moderately difficult spells and with a deeper understanding of theory.
Senior Mage — highly accomplished, capable of wielding complex high-level spells with refined comprehension and application.
Master — at the pinnacle of the field, able to unleash devastating spells and even create new magical theories and techniques.
Archmage — legendary figures, wielding nearly omnipotent power, often leaders of academies or magical orders.
Legendary Mage — names etched into history, their achievements and exploits sung through generations.
Demigod — beings of myth and legend, their powers beyond mortal reason, bordering on the supernatural.
God of Magic — one who had attained a true divine name, shaping the very rules of the world and of magic itself, their power beyond imagination.
Merlin’s eyes widened as he read the letter, his pupils dilating. His face stiffened, mouth falling open, breath growing rapid as though he were on the verge of a seizure.
Louis Fitt froze at his friend’s expression, startled. “Brother, what’s wrong with you? All this just because I want to copy your homework? Or—wait—you found out about me carousing with the dwarves?”
Merlin stumbled back several steps before collapsing into a chair. With a twitch at the corner of his mouth, he pressed a hand to his forehead. “This… this can’t be real.”
The envelope slipped from his hand. Fitt, seeing his state, guessed something grave had happened with the Leo family. He stooped to pick up the letter, thinking that, given his relationship with Merlin, taking a look at family correspondence was no great offense. But one glance—and his jaw nearly hit the floor.
The Leo family was finished.
Not executed by order of the Dawn Emperor, stripped of their titles and reduced to commoners. Not annihilated by some rival house either.
No—the letter, written by Leo Pate, Merlin’s own father, spelled it out in detail. Poor business, failed ventures at sea, and misfortunes piled up until they were forced to sell off their lands and all family assets. And even then, they still owed the Dawnlight Trading Guild half a million gold coins.
Half a million gold! An astronomical sum.
On the continent of Aezela, though currencies varied from nation to nation, all were based on the same copper-silver-gold system: ten copper equaled one silver, ten silver equaled one gold. A single copper bought what a single yuan did in Merlin’s past life. Which meant half a million gold translated to fifty million yuan.
The Leo family had never been gifted at commerce. Even managing their lands had always been a struggle, breaking even considered a small victory. Yearly profits, when they came, merely covered the expenses of an ordinary noble household.
Yet every generation of head still dreamed of wealth, of striking it rich. And every time, the result was loss.
This generation’s Count Leo, lured by a friend’s introduction, had ventured into sea trade. Just as it began to prosper, disaster struck. A ship carrying spices worth millions of gold capsized, wiping out everything. Left with no choice, the Count sold off the family’s lands and property to cover debts—yet even after everything, half a million gold still hung over their heads.
Hell difficulty, right from the start. Merlin hadn’t even tasted the benefits of his title as the Count’s son, and now the family was saddled with crushing debt.
Even Fitt was stunned. A million-gold cargo of spices—gone, just like that.
“Brother, at a time like this, there’s only one solution!”
Merlin lifted his head, hope flickering in his eyes. “What—are you saying you’ll lend me money?”
“Come on. I may be a prince, but you know my situation. Half the time it’s you paying when we eat out. You want to borrow money from me? Forget it.”
Fitt wasn’t lying. He was a neglected prince of poor talent, with little gold to his name. And what little he had went straight into taverns and drink—he was a true paycheck-to-paycheck man.
“Then what solution are you talking about?”
“Simple. Cut ties with your father. That way, the debt collectors can’t come after you. Or… you could sacrifice that pretty face of yours. I’m sure plenty of women at the academy would part with half a million gold for your sake.”
Fitt’s expression was utterly serious. Merlin’s face darkened, black lines practically etched across it. He brushed off the hand pressing on his shoulder.
“The door’s over there. Get out.”
“Baby, you’ve changed. You never used to be this crude. Could it be that a family catastrophe really does change a man’s temperament?”
“Don’t make me hit you.”
“Then at least lend me your homework to copy. Just what’s on the floor—”
Bang!
Fitt was shoved out the door, clutching the pile of homework papers. He stood before the tightly shut oak door and shouted back into the room:
“How about some frozen blueberries from the Ice Plains? Fresh ones—the owl loves them too!”