100\% DROP RATE : Why is My Inventory Always so Full?-Chapter 37 - Maxim

Sebas gently laid the unconscious old man on the couch.

Meanwhile, Clara had dropped to all fours in front of Lucien. Her forehead pressed against the floor.

Dogeza.

Lucien and Sebas were still pale from the shock.

Lucien sighed at the sight of Clara’s desperate posture.

"Enough. It’s not your fault," he said. His voice was calm but weary.

Clara slowly stood. Guilt was still etched across her face. She wore a sorrowful pout that made Lucien raise an eyebrow and shrug it off. He couldn’t bring himself to blame her.

Normally, Tax-Collector Maxim would arrive with his usual escorts... but today, he’d come alone.

That alone was suspicious. Anyone would’ve mistaken him for an intruder, especially with the recent unrest caused by the Coalhearts.

Everyone was on edge.

Still, he took comfort in one thing. At least his people weren’t so quick to trust strangers.

"But why did you attack him?" Lucien asked Clara. "Did you see something? Is he... a bad person?"

Clara could see the "colors" of people after all. Good or bad.

Though Lucien knew such things were subjective. Good and bad were shades of gray, shifting with circumstance. No one could truly judge with certainty.

Still, he had to ask.

Because deep down, Lucien didn’t want to hear that Maxim was bad.

The old man had always been kind to him.

Gentle.

Wise.

Someone who reminded him of his own parents.

They shared a bond. It was hard to let go of that image.

Clara’s response brought a wave of relief.

She shook her head. "His color was good, My Lord. That’s why I only knocked him out. If he were bad... he wouldn’t still be breathing."

Her words sent a chill down Lucien’s spine. She said it so naturally as if ending someone’s life was just another routine task.

She continued, her voice. "...Also, I’ve come to realize something. Sometimes, the good can be bad... and the bad can be good. So I won’t trust others easily anymore... except for you, My Lord."

Her eyes shimmered with devotion.

Lucien sighed and rolled his eyes. ’That’s what she says.’

Actually... if Maxim decided to pursue this incident, things could spiral out of control.

Lucien knew all too well. The Capital was a nest of monsters.

Compared to that den of power and politics, Lootwell was nothing but a quiet backwater village.

Take the Coalhearts for example. They had a few strong fighters, with their top elites reaching Tier 6.

But in the Capital?

There were thousands, even tens of thousands, of Tier 6s. Power was everywhere.

And the king?

Rumored to be a Tier 9. A man so powerful he could wipe the entire Coalheart family off the map... without even raising a finger.

Lucien sometimes wished he would. But that was just a fantasy.

In truth, Lucien didn’t think highly of the king. Not after seeing how his decrees which were riddled with loopholes allowed greedy nobles to exploit the weak.

"It’s because of him that the Coalhearts dared attack us," Lucien muttered. "Those decrees of his... nothing but bait for corruption."

With a weary sigh, Lucien activated INSPECT and focused on Maxim.

***

Name: Maxim Silvermine

Age: 50

Race: Human

Job: Mathematician

Level: 32

Title:

• Tax-Collector

• The Living Ledger

• Fallen Genius

Skills:

• Perfect Calculation

• Sharp Memory

• Negotiation

Magic:

• Wind Magic (Advance)

• Household Magic

Magic Affinity:

• Wind Magic

• Space Magic

Favourability: 60

Status: Sleeping

***

Lucien stared at the status screen. His brows slightly raised.

"He really is a mathematician," he thought.

Maxim had always been eerily good with numbers and negotiations. His mind is like a ledger in motion.

Now it made sense.

Perfect Calculation was more than just talent. It was a skill. A powerful one.

’More dangerous than it sounds,’ Lucien mused.

He was just about to open SKILLPEDIA to learn more about it when Maxim stirred.

The old man groaned softly and began to sit up.

Lucien quickly stepped forward.

"Uncle Max, are you alright?" he asked, crouching beside him. "I apologize... My subordinate mistook you for an intruder."

He’d always called him Uncle Max. A habit from childhood.

Maxim had insisted on it. Though they weren’t related by blood, their bond was close enough to feel like family.

Maxim let out a booming laugh.

"GAHAHAHA! Nephew, I didn’t know you had such a fierce watchdog! If your parents could see you now... they’d be proud."

Lucien smiled... but it didn’t reach his eyes.

The mention of his parents twisted something inside him. That ache never really left.

Maxim noticed and the mirth in his face faded just as quickly.

Silence settled between them.

Then with a quiet voice, Maxim asked...

"May I visit their grave?"

•••

The graveyard of Lootwell lay deep in the southern stretch of the territory, far behind the manor.

Quiet.

Remote.

Untouched by the noise of daily life.

Lucien and Maxim walked in silence. Their footsteps were slow and heavy.

Neither of them spoke.

The weight of the past clung to the air like fog.

At last, they arrived.

Before them stood the graves of Lucien’s parents. Modest yet dignified. Stones that carried the legacy of the ones who had built everything Lucien now protected.

Surrounding them were other headstones. Rows of humble markers Lucien had commissioned not long ago.

Tombstones for the fallen miners.

Each one bore a name, carved with care and precision. They were not just workers, they were the backbone of Lootwell.

Mining was the village’s lifeblood before and they were honoured with the respect they deserved.

Maxim’s eyes swept over the names and he nodded solemnly.

"You did well," he said quietly.

Lucien gave a small nod in return.

The two stood still.

Maxim closed his eyes, letting the silence speak. Memories played behind his eyelids... Bittersweet and heavy.

Then he raised his head slowly, fighting back tears he didn’t want to shed.

"I was helpless back then..." he murmured. "I’m sorry, nephew."

Lucien didn’t respond right away.

He already knew. Maxim had always been under scrutiny. Helping would’ve been a risk far greater than most could afford.

Lucien understood that. Completely.

Maxim sighed. "The nobles in the Capital... they’re always watching. Waiting for the smallest excuse to pounce."

He looked at Lucien, his voice quieter now.

"You’ve felt it by now, haven’t you? The pressure. The way this world treats the weak... or the kind."

Lucien met his gaze.

Calm.

Resolute.

"There’s no need to say more, Uncle Max. I know what I’m up against," he said. "This is a battle I’ll face head-on. I’ll protect what my parents left behind."

Maxim stared at him for a moment... then nodded.

There was no boy left in Lucien now.

Only a man standing where his father once did.

Suddenly...

Maxim flinched.

His body tensed and then... Black flames burst out from beneath his skin. It flickered like a cursed fire trying to devour him from within.

Lucien’s eyes widened. "Uncle Max?!"

Maxim staggered, nearly collapsing.

Lucien rushed to support him, gripping his shoulders.

He instinctively channeled Divine Energy into his eyes...

And then he saw it.

A dark aura was choking Maxim’s mana vessels.

It flowed like sludge.

Corroding the pathways of his energy.

Eating away at his core as if burning it from the inside out.

Lucien gritted his teeth.

"Uncle Max... what is this?!"

Maxim let out a slow, resigned sigh. Not of pain, but of familiarity.

"Now that I think about it... I never told you, did I?" His voice was calm...too calm. "It’s a curse. Been with me for a long time now."

He said it like someone talking about an old scar. Bothersome but no longer shocking.

Lucien’s expression sharpened. At the word "curse", something clicked.

His heart beat faster.

"A curse?" he asked. "Can you tell me more?"

Maxim looked at him for a moment. Really looked.

There was no trace of the boy he once knew...only a man.

One who now stood tall with the strength to bear burdens that once belonged to his father.

He gave a faint smile.

"...It’s nothing grand, really. But since you’ve grown this much, I suppose you deserve to hear it."

Maxim stared into the distance, eyes heavy with the weight of old wounds.

"There was a time," he began, "when three great noble families were entrusted with collecting taxes across the kingdom."

He held up three fingers.

"Golddust. Silvermine. Copperrock."

Lucien listened in silence.

"Each family was assigned its own domain to collect task. In return for their service, they were entitled to five percent of all the taxes they collected. A fair reward for the burden of that task."

He lowered one finger.

"But then tragedy struck. The Copperrock family fell. Ambushed, destroyed by so-called enemies. But anyone with a brain could see through it... It was clearly orchestrated by the Golddust house."

Lucien’s eyes narrowed.

"With Copperrock gone, their territory was divided between the two remaining families. Golddust and Silvermine. No other noble house dared step in to replace them. The Golddust family had made their message clear. Opposition meant ruin."

Maxim’s tone darkened.

"That’s when the next blow came."

He clenched a fist, eyes flickering with old anger.

"The Silvermine family’s reputation took a hit. Tax caravans started getting ambushed. Some supplies vanished. Guards disappeared. Routes we’d secured for decades suddenly turned into death traps."

Lucien already knew where this was going.

"The Golddust again?" he asked.

Maxim gave a slow nod.

"They couldn’t destroy us outright. We had too deep a foundation, too many loyal fighters. But they found another way. A curse. Silent. Untraceable. And devastating."

His hand trembled slightly as he placed it over his chest.

"They struck down our greatest genius."

Lucien’s eyes widened as if he realized something.

"Yes. I was that genius. A Tier 7 mage once praised in the capital as a rising star. I wielded advanced wind magic with ease. But the curse... This rot in my mana vessels. It crippled me. Slowly, year by year, my strength drained away. I’m barely a Tier 3 now. I haven’t touched my iconic wind magic in almost twenty years."

He gave a tired, bitter laugh.

"And now? We’re left scraping up taxes from the border territories... Places the Golddust family couldn’t care less about. There’s little wealth here and even less influence. But we endure. We survive."

Maxim finally looked back at Lucien, his expression a mixture of pain, pride, and resignation.

"That’s the truth of it. The fall of Silvermine wasn’t sudden. It was orchestrated. And I’ve had to live with this curse ever since."

Maxim let out another weary sigh.

"Truth is... I’ve always known what’s been happening out here in the borders. I’ve kept quiet, even when I wanted to help you."

Maxim paused and gave another sigh.

"If I interfered...if I made one wrong move... the Golddust would’ve used it as an excuse to crush us both. They’re watching everything. Waiting for the slightest misstep to justify wiping out Silvermine... and your territory along with it."

Lucien nodded solemnly.

So that was the full truth.

Noble life wasn’t just politics... It was a slow, suffocating game of survival.

He was lucky, in a way. Far from the Capital where corruption and greed roamed freely behind smiling masks.

All they had to deal with here was a crocodile like Coalheart.

Compared to the monsters lurking in marble halls, that was manageable.

Lucien took a step forward.

"You don’t have to worry anymore, Uncle Max."

Maxim raised a brow.

Lucien smiled faintly. "I have a way to remove the curse."

His words came so casually that Maxim blinked, almost thinking he misheard.

But Lucien was already reaching into his INVENTORY.

And then it appeared.

Essence of Purity.

This 𝓬ontent is taken from fre𝒆webnove(l).𝐜𝐨𝗺