Weakest Beast Tamer Gets All SSS Dragons novel Chapter 318

"Theodore! The smelling salts! Quickly!" Finch exclaimed with a choked voice, his face paling dramatically.

The mouse frantically scurried across the counter, bringing a tiny flask that Finch opened with trembling fingers. He inhaled deeply, his eyes watering from the sharp scent.

"Everything?" he repeated, as if hoping he had misheard. "All five hundred and forty-five thousand? Down to the last crystal?"

"Yes," Ren nodded calmly. "I don't know how much they'll charge me to send money to my parents, so I'd rather have a margin."

"Your parents!" Finch exclaimed, momentarily recovering his dramatic flair. His eyes widened behind his spectacles as he clutched his chest. "Of course! The young magnate honoring those who gave him life! What a noble gesture!"

Though his expression darkened again immediately, his mustache drooping visibly.

"But still... everything. The worst setback in the history of our banking relationship." He pulled out a handkerchief and wiped an imaginary tear. "And just when we were so close to the million."

"I'll recover it soon," Ren assured him, his tone matter-of-fact.

Min giggled at Finch's theatrics. Finch now opened the register with the slowness of someone handling a sacred object, his fingers caressing each page reverently.

"Five hundred and forty-five thousand," he murmured sadly as he began to write, each stroke of his pen seeming to cause him physical pain. "A young fortune slipping through our fingers."

At that precise moment, the door opened again and an administrative assistant entered with a stack of papers. The young man, dressed in the academy's auxiliaries formal uniform, seemed completely oblivious to the drama unfolding before him.

"Finch, this year we'll make the tournament deposits automatic, to avoid last year's lost prize problem," he announced, placing the documents on the counter. "I need your signature to confirm you got the deposits."

Finch absentmindedly flipped through the papers, but his expression suddenly changed upon reaching a particular page. His eyes grew enormously behind his glasses, looking alternately at the paper and at Ren. His mustache twitched with poorly concealed agitation.

"Thank you," he finally said to the assistant, signing quickly with a flourish that belied his inner turmoil. "You may leave."

Once the assistant departed, Finch attempted to maintain a neutral expression, but his acting when not being dramatic left much to be desired. He was sweating profusely, his forehead glistening under the office lights, and kept casting furtive glances at the newly arrived document.

"So... five hundred and forty-five thousand," he muttered, avoiding looking directly at Ren, his voice unnaturally high.

"He's acting weirder than usual," Liu observed. "I bet the tournament prize just arrived in Ren's account based on what that auxiliary said."

"Absolutely not!" Finch exclaimed with too much vehemence, his hands flailing. "Nothing has arrived! Everything is exactly the same and the magnate's account will be brutally destroyed as requested!"

Theodore, however, nodded from behind the counter when Liu spoke, pointing at the paper with his tiny paws and making emphatic gestures.

"Theodore, I was trying to save some of the magnate's savings!" Finch shrieked, scandalized. His meticulously groomed mustache seemed to bristle with indignation. "Traitor! After all these years!"

The mouse shrugged, as if saying "truth above all."

"How much is the prize, Mr. Finch?" Ren asked calmly.

Finch deflated like a punctured balloon, slumping against the counter.

"One hundred and sixty-six thousand crystals," he finally admitted, the words clearly painful for him to pronounce. "Which would raise your total to seven hundred and eleven thousand."

His eyes briefly lit up with desperate hope. "But you don't have to withdraw it all! Think about what could happen if you have an emergency and you're at zero! Just don't revert all the way to a blank account, please!"

Ren considered the new information.

"In that case, I'll withdraw six hundred and eleven thousand," he decided. "And I'll leave one hundred thousand for any eventuality."

Finch let out a small moan, as if each extra crystal withdrawn caused him physical pain. Theodore patted his hand consolingly, though the mouse's eyes betrayed a hint of amusement.

"How would you like the withdrawal?" Finch asked in a weak voice, pulling out his ledger with trembling hands.

"Six bronze glow crystals, ten gold-sized, and ten silver-sized," Ren specified, his tone businesslike.

"Theodore!" Finch called with a tragic voice that echoed through the small office. "Help me nearly empty the magnate's coffers! What a black day for the financial history of the academy!"