I headed straight for the shower as soon as I got back to the ship. The hot water scalded away the stench of the sewers and the lingering taste of humiliation that had clung to my skin.
The ship’s water purification system was flawless. It wasn’t some cheap, stingy setup that relied on mere recycled filtration; according to the game’s lore, it used a high-tech fusion of science and psionics, utilizing my Psionic Ability and the Jump Drive to conjure pure H2O out of thin air, or some such nonsense.
I didn't know the specifics. To me, it was simply one of the many reasons why my status values recovered whenever I returned to the ship.
"Now then..."
Once I felt refreshed, I dumped the Gutter Rat Claws into the washbasin. These were my spoils from earlier—black, twisted lumps caked in mud and sludge. I tried rinsing them under the hot water from the faucet. I didn't have a brush or any detergent, so I just let the water run over them.
"I really need to pick up some cleaning supplies... Though, why aren't there any Maintenance Drones on this ship anyway?"
As I muttered to myself, something incredible happened.
The black filth peeled away in an instant. Beneath the muck, a pearly, milky-white luster began to shine.
"Are you serious...?"
I’d assumed that the only way to increase selling prices was through the Negotiation Perk, but perhaps this ship was part of the equation too. It seemed the interior facilities could refine raw materials into something much better.
Feeling emboldened, I headed back down to the colony. I eventually found the junk shop and material exchange Gans had mentioned and stepped through the noren curtain.
The shopkeeper was a Dwarf—a man in oil-stained coveralls.
"Welcome. Well? If you’re just here to gawk, kid, get lost."
"I have some items I'd like you to buy."
I placed the pouch of sparkling claws on the counter.
The shopkeeper adjusted his Monocle and peered inside with an air of annoyance. Suddenly, his eyes snapped wide open.
"Hey... are these Gutter Rat Claws? I don't believe it! Not only are the heavy metals gone, they’ve been sterilized down to the bacterial level!"
The shopkeeper leaned over the counter, his breath coming in heavy, dwarven snorts.
"Did you use a chemical wash? No, there’s no residual chemical odor. It wasn't laser-fired, either. How the hell did you get them this clean?"
"Trade secret," I replied, feigning a calm I didn't feel. My heart was hammering against my ribs, but if I let him see that I was a novice, he’d drive a hard bargain and fleece me.
"...Tch. Greedy brat. But the goods are top-notch. I’ll give you thirty percent above market value for them."
It was a good start, but the claws weren't the main event.
I reached for the holder on my hip and slowly pulled out a bottle. It was a 600ml portable polymer bottle I had filled at the ship's sink.
"Old man. While we're at it, tell me what you think this 'solvent' is worth."
"Huh? It looks like plain water to me... Wait."
The shopkeeper unscrewed the cap and took a sniff. He let a single drop fall onto his fingertip and touched it to his tongue.
In an instant, the Dwarf’s face turned from red to blue, then finally to a ghostly white.
"...Hey. Close the door."
"What?"
"I said lower the shutter! If the other customers see this, there’ll be a bloodbath!"
The shopkeeper scrambled to lock the shop's entrance. His hands shook as he held the bottle up to the light.
"Zero impurities... Ultra-soft water with perfect hardness adjustment. I can even feel a trace of some unanalyzable, mysterious power lingering in it. Where did you get this? Did you steal it from some noble’s private Bio-plant in the High Sector?"
"It’s not stolen. It’s 'merchandise' obtained through a legitimate channel."
"...I’ll buy this bottle for seven hundred and fifty credits."
I furrowed my brows, doing the math in my head.
In this colony, a bowl of mystery-meat stew or a General-Purpose Synthetic Food 'Tasty Cube' cost five credits. The Cartridge Canned Food I’d eaten earlier—which I’d later discovered was a bit of a luxury—ran for about thirty.
That meant this single bottle of water could buy twenty-five of those high-end cans.
"Seven-fifty, huh? Not bad."
"Wait! I can go higher! Eight hundred... no, eight-fifty! With this, I could brew a liquor so fine... No, forget I said that!"
Seeing the desperation in the shopkeeper’s eyes, I smirked. The deal was struck.
"Alright, eight-fifty it is. By the way, old man... can you handle larger quantities?"
"...What?"
"I have stock. Roughly a full tank's worth."
I was referring to a standard two-thousand-liter tank. By my rough estimation, that transaction would be worth approximately 2.8 million credits.
The shopkeeper nearly fell out of his chair.
The transaction was processed via electronic transfer, with the physical delivery scheduled for Dock 4.
The shopkeeper arrived with a squad of autonomous Lifter Drones in tow. However, the moment he looked up at my ship—the Sperm Whale—he froze, his jaw hanging open.
"H-Hey... you're joking, right?"
The ship was five hundred meters long with a beautiful, streamlined hull. It was a massive, majestic vessel that looked nothing like a standard transport ship, and its sheer presence seemed to crush the grimy dock around it.
"You own a monster like this? What kind of interstellar trust-fund kid are you?"
"It was a legacy from my gramps. An old model."
I offered a convenient lie and opened one of the many cargo hatches. Inside sat a single liquid container, looking like a tiny grain of rice compared to the ship's total capacity.
"...I still don't believe it. But a contract is a contract."
The shopkeeper operated his terminal with trembling fingers.
My Handheld Terminal buzzed. My account balance jumped from zero to a seven-digit number in the blink of an eye.
"A pleasure doing business with you. Oh, and one more thing: keep this between us. If any lowlifes come sniffing around, this girl will start spitting fire."
I punctuated the threat by stroking the ship's Anti-Ship Pulse Laser Turret, which I had exposed by sliding back its concealment panel. The shopkeeper nodded so hard I thought his neck might snap before he scurried away.
I sat down on the hangar floor and let out a long, shaky breath.
"Two point eight million credits..."
It was a fortune.
But when I sat down to do the actual math, it wasn't exactly "retire and live in luxury" money.
While the Sperm Whale cost almost nothing in fuel thanks to its mysterious technology, its sheer size meant I was being charged five thousand credits a day just in docking fees.
Furthermore, while I was alone for now, a ship of this scale required a crew. The costs for recruitment, supplies, transport containers, and general materials would be astronomical. It was a massive initial investment.
In fact, I had already missed several days of dock payments. My debt had been quietly mounting; the fire was very much still lit under my ass.
Suppressing my racing heart, I opened the map app on my terminal.
My destination was, of course, the High Sector. The promised land of real food. With this kind of money, I could walk into the finest restaurant in the colony and order whatever I wanted.
"Just you wait, Katsudon...!"
But my finger stopped mid-air.
A cold, clinical warning popped up over the area information.
Permit for High Sector Gate passage required: Regular Citizen ID or Mercenary Guild Silver Rank ID mandatory.
"...Are you kidding me? Of course. It's always something."
I scratched my head in frustration.
Gans's words echoed in my mind: “You can get in once you reach Silver Rank.” He hadn't been speaking in metaphors; it was a hard system requirement. Regardless of how much money I had, I was a nobody without social "credit," and I’d be turned away at the gate.
I’d suspected as much, but the reality of having the goal right in front of me while being separated by an invisible wall of bureaucracy made me sigh.
"...Fine. Have it your way."
I tapped through the terminal, navigating to the Mercenary Guild's page to filter for "Transport and Delivery" jobs.
"If that's how it is, I'll just grind my way to the top. Luckily, I've got the ship and the war chest to do it."
The Sperm Whale was a transport ship, after all. There was no point in letting it sit idle.
I was done with small-time scavenging in the sewers. I’d use this ship’s massive cargo capacity and my 2.8 million in capital to take on the most efficient, large-scale contracts available.
"I'll hit Silver Rank in record time. And then, I'm storming the High Sector."
I had the money. I had the ship.
All that was left was to earn the reputation.
Moonshine: Not even once.
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