Immortal Paladin

015 Respectable Goldfish

The goldfish stall was quiet today. An old man lounged behind the counter, idly munching on a skewer of candied hawthorn, utterly oblivious to the storm about to descend upon him. The sight of him enjoying his snack, completely unbothered, only fueled my resolve.

I had witnessed something amusing earlier, so I was in a fine mood. But that didn’t mean I would overlook the old man’s past transgressions. No, today was the day of my triumphant return.

After sending Gu Jie on an errand to buy tickets for tomorrow’s event, I headed straight to the stall.

I stopped in front of the goldfish tubs, arms crossed. Let’s see if you dare mock me again, old man.

“Do you remember me?” I asked, my voice carrying the weight of a challenge.

The old man tilted his head slightly, chewing on his tanghulu before giving me a lazy glance.

“Oh? Who do we have here?” His lips curled into a knowing smirk. “It’s the sucker!”

I twitched.

“I’ll show you who’s the sucker, old man.”

45 Minutes Later...

I hadn’t caught a single goldfish. Not one.

The old man, now fully reclined in his chair, let out a satisfied sigh as he finished the last of his tanghulu.

“Turns out,” he said, watching my struggle with amusement, “the sucker was you.”

I stared at my ruined paper scoop, torn apart by the water and my own desperation. My reflection in the tub looked like that of a man who had glimpsed true defeat.

“Ridiculous.”

The old man stretched lazily. “Perhaps the real suckers were the friends we made along the way.”

I gave him a blank stare. “Are you drunk?”

He simply chuckled, clearly enjoying himself. “Just mushrooms,” he added. “And candied skewers.”

I refused to concede. With unwavering determination, I slapped down another coin and picked up a fresh paper scoop.

Frustrating? Absolutely. But strangely enjoyable. In its own way, this was a rare moment of leisure—something I had never experienced as a child. It was a simple festival game, yet it carried an odd sense of fulfillment. I’d never played before, and the novelty alone made the loss worth it.

Besides, there was always next time.

The old man watched as I dipped the paper scoop into the water once more, my brows furrowed in concentration. The flimsy paper strained under the weight of the water as I carefully approached a sluggish goldfish near the edge. This time, for sure—

Rip.

The scoop tore apart like wet parchment.

“Damn it.”

The old man snorted. “Kid, why don’t you just buy a goldfish? They’re only thirty coppers. You look like a rich young master—surely you can afford it.”

I clicked my tongue, casting him a sideways glance. “It’s not about the prize. It’s about the journey.”

I made a sweeping gesture, as if imparting great wisdom. “The satisfaction of earning it with my own skill.”

In truth, I was talking nonsense. No way I’d admit that I was simply terrible at this game.

That, and it was good training. Even with my unnatural abilities, fine control required practice. And beyond that, it was fun. A piece of childhood I never had. If nothing else, I could afford to indulge in that, just for a little while longer.

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

The old man faked a cough, covering his mouth with his fist. “Heh. So, you’re just stubborn.”

I shot him a look. He met my gaze with a knowing smirk, as if he could see right through me. Honestly, this old man was too suspicious. If he weren’t the only one running a goldfish stall here—and if this weren’t the only arcade game I hadn’t conquered—I wouldn’t have bothered coming back.

I exhaled, forcing down my frustration. Steadying my breath, I dipped another paper scoop into the tub. This time, I ignored the bigger, faster goldfish and set my sights on the smallest, slowest one.

My scoop slid beneath its belly. Carefully, I lifted it, my breath hitching as the paper held. No way. No way. No way—

The goldfish wriggled, but I kept my grip steady. It remained on the scoop.

A second passed.

Then another.

And then—

“HAH~! HAHAHAHA~~!” I shot up from my seat, my victorious laughter booming across the empty stall. “SUCK IT, OLD MAN!”

The old man chuckled. “Took you long enough, sucker.”

The moment of victory lasted exactly two seconds.

Because in my excitement, I moved too suddenly—too recklessly.

RIP.

The paper scoop tore apart.

The goldfish, my hard-earned prize, flopped back into the water with a tiny splash.

I stared.

“No. No. NOOOO~! FISHY!”

The old man clutched his stomach and howled with laughter. “HA! KEKEKE~! KAKAKAKA~! A sucker to the end!”

I turned to glare at him, my jaw clenched. This damn old man. If I didn’t know better, I’d suspect he was some minor demon sent to test my patience.

Wordlessly, I slapped another set of coppers onto the counter and grabbed a fresh paper scoop. Alright. Focus. Breathe. One more time.

I calmed my heart like a fasting monk. No unnecessary movements. No sudden outbursts.

Slowly, I dipped the scoop into the water, eyes locked onto my target. I maneuvered beneath the smallest goldfish once more, lifting it with the delicate precision of a master alchemist refining a pill. The paper held. The goldfish wobbled, but I remained steady.

Three seconds passed. Then four. Good. No mistakes this time.

I gently transferred the fish into the old man’s waiting hands. He hummed in amusement but, for once, didn’t mock me. With practiced ease, he placed my hard-earned prize into a small glass bowl filled with water.

“There,” he said, pushing the bowl toward me. “A goldfish, won fair and square.”

I exhaled, finally allowing myself to relax. It was done. The demon had been slain.

“…Worth it.”

I peered into the small glass bowl, watching my goldfish swim in slow, lazy circles. Victory tasted all the sweeter after suffering repeated, humiliating defeats.

Now, there was just one problem.

“So… what do I feed it?”

The old man shrugged. “I don’t know.”

I blinked. “What?”

“How would I know?”

“…You own the stall.”

He scratched his chin, looking genuinely confused. “And?”

“What do you mean and? You literally sell goldfish! How do you not know what they eat?”

The old man considered my words for a moment, then nodded sagely.

“I don’t know.”

I stared at him.

This. This was the man I lost to.

“What kind of answer is that?” I demanded. “Shouldn’t this be basic knowledge for you?”

The old man clicked his tongue. “You’re askin’ the wrong questions, kid.”

I exhaled. “…Enlighten me, then.”

He jabbed a finger at the goldfish. “It’s a girl.”

I squinted at him. “The hell? You can tell me that but not what she eats?”

The old man crossed his arms, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “That’s right.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Fine. What can you tell me?”

“Just feed it meat so it grows strong. Pork, maybe?”

I nearly choked. “Pork?!”

“Yeah. Meat’s good for growth. You want a strong fish, don’t you?”

I looked at him. Then at the tiny, fragile creature swimming in my bowl.

“…Even I know how wrong that advice is.”

The old man shrugged. “Hey, don’t listen to me. I’m just a humble goldfish salesman.”

I desperately wanted to ask how he even got this job, but I had a feeling I wouldn’t like the answer.

“Maybe beef sounds better,” he mused, rubbing his chin. “I don’t know. I am craving beef.”

“Not helping, old man.”

I sighed and turned my attention back to the goldfish. She swam in slow, looping circles, her delicate fins fluttering like silk ribbons underwater. The golden-orange of her scales shimmered beneath the lantern light, accented by streaks of white along the tips of her tail. Her round, beady eyes carried the same innocence as a clueless baby animal.

How could something so small and simple look so damn happy?

I smiled to myself, then turned back to the old man. “Alright. Since you’re so wise, how about making yourself useful and helping me name her?”

The old man raised a bushy brow. “Really? You’re trusting me with that?”

“I don’t mind. I’m terrible at names.”

Without hesitation, the old man declared, “Ren Jingyi.”

“Whoa~ that was fast.”

“The character Ren for ‘person,’ and Jingyi for ‘respectable.’”

“A respectable person, huh?” I chuckled. “Imagine—a goldfish being more respectable than an actual person.”

I leaned closer, peering at the tiny creature in her bowl. “Do you like it, Ren Jingyi? Jingy’er? Little Goldie?”

She swam in another cheerful loop, her little fins flapping with delight.

I grinned, but after a moment, my excitement dimmed. As happy as she looked, the small glass bowl felt… lacking. If I was going to keep her, I needed to do it right.

“I should find a place that sells a bigger bowl,” I muttered. “Maybe add some sand… a few greens… something to make it more interesting for her. Hmmm… How does a tower sound?”

The old man gave me a sideways glance before smirking. “What’s this? Planning to build a palace for your little fish?”

“Of course,” I said, nodding seriously. “She’s Ren Jingyi, after all. A respectable fish deserves a respectable home.”