Instruction: Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can.

Input:
But there was a huge difference between a cellar built to hide things and one built to store them.
The ceiling was high enough that Lawrence had to reach over his head to touch it, and the bookshelves that lined the walls reached from floor to ceiling.
Even more impressive, the shelves were organized by era and topic and had a numbering system.
The bindings were thin and flimsy—nothing compared to the thick, leather-bound volumes in Tereo—but the effort spent on organization was on another level entirely.
"Are fires common in this town?" Lawrence asked.
"From time to time. As you may have guessed, my ancestors had the same fear, which is why they built this place."
Although she had not been in the room that adjoined the garden, Melta seemed to have overheard the exchange there and now appeared in the cellar's entrance holding a candlestick.
Holo allowed the nun to guide her as she looked for promising books.
The pleasant light flickered in and out of visibility among the shadows of the bookshelves.
"By the way," began Rigolo once the two men were left to their own devices. "I'm the curious type, so I can't help asking. Why exactly are you searching for these ancient stories?"
Given that Rigolo hadn't asked about Holo's relationship with Lawrence, the heart of his interest was clear.
"She's searching for her origin."
"Her origin?" repeated Rigolo, the surprise obvious on his face. His powers of discernment might well have been the equal of any great merchant, but he had no control over his own expression.
"For a variety of reasons, I'm escorting her to her homeland."
If he omitted a few details, well, Rigolo could come to whatever conclusions he wished, which would allow Lawrence to avoid telling a lie while simultaneously keeping the truth at a distance.
Rigolo seemed to fall for it. "I see...So you're heading north, then?"
"Yes. We don't know the precise location, so we're trying to pinpoint it based on the stories she knows."
Rigolo nodded, a serious expression on his face.
He probably concluded that Holo had been captured in the north, then sold into slavery in the south. It was commonly said that children from the northlands were hardier and more obedient. There were also many stories of nobility whose children had died or were precariously sick and in danger of having their inheritance taken by other relatives who bought such children to adopt.
"It's not uncommon for children from the north to stay in this town. It would be best if she could return to her home," said Rigolo.
Lawrence nodded his wordless agreement.
Holo emerged from the bookshelves, holding five volumes that evidently held some promise.
"You're certainly a glutton for knowledge," said Lawrence at a loss. It was Melta, not Holo, who answered him with a smile.
"These were all we found, so I should think it would be best if you took them with you for the time being."
"I see. Here, let me carry some of those. We'll be skipping meals for three days if we drop them."
Rigolo laughed as Lawrence wound up carrying the entire stack of books, and they returned to the first floor.
"Normally I'd ask that you read them here," Rigolo said, looking at the stack of books that Melta had bound into a convenient bundle. "But I trust Fleur, and Fleur trusts you, so I shall as well. I cannot say the same for others, though..."
Anytime foreign merchants were involved, there were many reasons to be distrustful.
"I certainly understand," said Lawrence.
"But if you drop, burn, lose, or sell them, it's three days without food!"
It was a joke, but Lawrence didn't laugh. Being able to calculate the monetary value of nearly anything, he was well aware that these books were priceless.
He nodded and picked up the bundle. "I'll protect them as I would protect my most precious cargo, on my honor as a merchant."
"Right then," said Rigolo with a boyish smile.
Lawrence wondered if Eve's heart would be moved by such things.

Output:
"Understood. Again, thank you."
Rigolo answered Lawrence's nod with a smile, giving Holo a jaunty little wave.
Such gestures made him seem less like a merchant and more like a courtly poet.
Satisfied, Holo returned the wave as the two left.
"It's easy to wave when you're not carrying anything." Lawrence reasoned that a little grumbling was justified. Between carrying books and asking for directions, he had become quite the manservant recently.
"Aye, and you'd do well to make sure you're not waved off," shot back Holo, traipsing ahead of Lawrence.
Her teasing was frustrating, but at the same time, Lawrence was well aware that unless they were getting along well, such teasing would be impossible.
The problem was, Holo did little else.
"One can flatter a pig right up a tree, but flattering a male just makes him lose himself," said Holo, sealing off any protest from him.
There was no room for denial, that was the problem.
"Oh yes, I'm at such a loss I may well lose my temper," said Lawrence.
Delighted at the joke, Holo clapped her hands, laughing high and loud.
Once they had left the books at the inn, Lawrence made good on his promise to treat Holo to whatever she wanted for dinner, and having picked a tavern at random, Holo decided she wanted a whole roasted piglet.
Such a dish was a rare pleasure—an entire pig, spit down the center and roasted slowly over an open flame, occasionally drizzled with nut oil squeezed from a certain fruit.
Once the piglet was golden brown, its mouth was stuffed with herbs and it was served on a giant plate. It was customary for whoever cut off the piglet's right ear to wish for good luck.
Normally such a dish would feed five or six people; it was generally ordered for celebrations of one kind or another, and when Lawrence gave his request to the barmaid, her surprise was obvious. A murmur of envy was audible among the other men in the tavern when the dish was brought out.
And when that same dish was set down directly in front of Holo, the voices became a sigh of sympathy.
It was not uncommon for Lawrence to weather envious gazes because of his beautiful companion, but these men seemed mollified once they understood that his existence was an expensive one indeed.
Seeing that Holo would be unable to carve the roast herself, Lawrence took it upon himself to do so, but he lacked the willpower to put any of the meat on his own plate, instead settling for the crunchy skin. The fragrant nut oil was tasty enough, but Holo beat him to the crunchy left ear. Wine went better with meat than ale, and it commanded a fair price.
Holo literally devoured the meal, completely unconcerned when her chestnut hair slipped out from underneath her hood, becoming occasionally spattered with oil from the roast. She was the very image of a wolf taking its food.
In the end, she made short work of the piglet.
As she finished taking the meat from the last rib, a round of applause arose in the tavern.
But Holo took no notice of the noise.
She licked her fingers clean of oil, took a drink of wine, and burped grandly. Her actions were strangely dignified, and the drunken patrons of the tavern sighed with their awe.
Still ignoring them, Holo smiled sweetly at Lawrence, who sat on the other side of the now-ravaged piglet carcass.
Perhaps she was saying thanks for the meal, but having reduced the piglet to bones, she seemed even keener to hunt.
Or perhaps it would serve as emergency rations for the next time she was hungry, Lawrence told himself when he thought of the truly painful bill, giving up all hope of escaping from Holo's fangs. He would have no choice but to try not to forget about this emergency boon he had left buried in the den.
They rested for a while, and after Lawrence paid the bill—ten days' worth of bribery surely—they left the tavern.
Perhaps being the center of the fur trade gave Lenos an excess of tallow. The road back to the inn was dotted with a number of lamps, which softly lit the way.


Instruction: Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can.

Input:
"Understood. Again, thank you."
Rigolo answered Lawrence's nod with a smile, giving Holo a jaunty little wave.
Such gestures made him seem less like a merchant and more like a courtly poet.
Satisfied, Holo returned the wave as the two left.
"It's easy to wave when you're not carrying anything." Lawrence reasoned that a little grumbling was justified. Between carrying books and asking for directions, he had become quite the manservant recently.
"Aye, and you'd do well to make sure you're not waved off," shot back Holo, traipsing ahead of Lawrence.
Her teasing was frustrating, but at the same time, Lawrence was well aware that unless they were getting along well, such teasing would be impossible.
The problem was, Holo did little else.
"One can flatter a pig right up a tree, but flattering a male just makes him lose himself," said Holo, sealing off any protest from him.
There was no room for denial, that was the problem.
"Oh yes, I'm at such a loss I may well lose my temper," said Lawrence.
Delighted at the joke, Holo clapped her hands, laughing high and loud.
Once they had left the books at the inn, Lawrence made good on his promise to treat Holo to whatever she wanted for dinner, and having picked a tavern at random, Holo decided she wanted a whole roasted piglet.
Such a dish was a rare pleasure—an entire pig, spit down the center and roasted slowly over an open flame, occasionally drizzled with nut oil squeezed from a certain fruit.
Once the piglet was golden brown, its mouth was stuffed with herbs and it was served on a giant plate. It was customary for whoever cut off the piglet's right ear to wish for good luck.
Normally such a dish would feed five or six people; it was generally ordered for celebrations of one kind or another, and when Lawrence gave his request to the barmaid, her surprise was obvious. A murmur of envy was audible among the other men in the tavern when the dish was brought out.
And when that same dish was set down directly in front of Holo, the voices became a sigh of sympathy.
It was not uncommon for Lawrence to weather envious gazes because of his beautiful companion, but these men seemed mollified once they understood that his existence was an expensive one indeed.
Seeing that Holo would be unable to carve the roast herself, Lawrence took it upon himself to do so, but he lacked the willpower to put any of the meat on his own plate, instead settling for the crunchy skin. The fragrant nut oil was tasty enough, but Holo beat him to the crunchy left ear. Wine went better with meat than ale, and it commanded a fair price.
Holo literally devoured the meal, completely unconcerned when her chestnut hair slipped out from underneath her hood, becoming occasionally spattered with oil from the roast. She was the very image of a wolf taking its food.
In the end, she made short work of the piglet.
As she finished taking the meat from the last rib, a round of applause arose in the tavern.
But Holo took no notice of the noise.
She licked her fingers clean of oil, took a drink of wine, and burped grandly. Her actions were strangely dignified, and the drunken patrons of the tavern sighed with their awe.
Still ignoring them, Holo smiled sweetly at Lawrence, who sat on the other side of the now-ravaged piglet carcass.
Perhaps she was saying thanks for the meal, but having reduced the piglet to bones, she seemed even keener to hunt.
Or perhaps it would serve as emergency rations for the next time she was hungry, Lawrence told himself when he thought of the truly painful bill, giving up all hope of escaping from Holo's fangs. He would have no choice but to try not to forget about this emergency boon he had left buried in the den.
They rested for a while, and after Lawrence paid the bill—ten days' worth of bribery surely—they left the tavern.
Perhaps being the center of the fur trade gave Lenos an excess of tallow. The road back to the inn was dotted with a number of lamps, which softly lit the way.

Output:
Holo had a dreamy smile on her face as she walked, perhaps thanks to the satisfaction that came with demolishing the roast.
Lawrence held her hand to keep her from straying off the path.
***
"Hmm?" Lawrence intoned. It had seemed like Holo was about to say something, but she merely shook her head.
"'Tis a good evening, is all," said Holo, looking vaguely down at the ground.
Lawrence, of course, agreed. "Still, we'd soon turn rotten if we spent every evening thus."
A week of such indulgence would empty his coin purse and turn his brains to mush, no doubt.
Holo seemed to agree.
She chuckled quietly.
"'Tis saltwater, after all."
"Hmm?"
"Sweet saltwater..."
Was she drunk, or was she trying to snare him yet again? Lawrence considered a reply, but the mood was too lovely to spoil with boorish chatter. He said nothing, and at length they arrived at the inn.
No matter how drunk they are, town dwellers can always find their way home as long as they can walk, but it is a bit different for travelers. No matter how tired their feet, they can persevere until they reach their inn.
Holo seemed to collapse as soon as Lawrence opened the door to the inn's entryway.
No, Lawrence thought, she's probably just feigning sleep.
"Goodness. At any other inn, you'd be scolded by the innkeeper," came Eve's hoarse voice. She and Arold were huddled around the charcoal hearth, Eve's head covered as usual.
"Only on the first night. After that, they'd give us a hearty laugh, no doubt."
"She drinks that much?"
"As you can see."
Eve chuckled voicelessly and sipped her wine.
Lawrence passed the two of them, staying next to Holo in order to support her, when Arold—who had been reclining in his chair, eyes closed and apparently sleeping—spoke up.
"About that fur merchant from the north. I talked with him. Said the snow's light this year, good conditions for travel."
"I appreciate your asking."
"If you want to know more...I forgot to ask his name again."
"It's Kolka Kuus," offered Eve.
Murmured Arold, "Ah yes, that was his name."
Lawrence would have liked to stay longer in this relaxed atmosphere.
"That Kuus fellow is staying on the fourth floor. He said he was mostly free in the evenings, so if you want to know more, go ahead and stop by his room."
Everything was going extremely well.
But Holo pulled on his sleeve as if to hurry him, so Lawrence paid his thanks to Arold and took his leave, and the two began to ascend the stairs. Just as they did, Lawrence caught a glimpse of Eve raising a wine cup to him, as if to say, "Hurry back down."
Step by step, they climbed the staircase, finally arriving at their room and opening the door.
How many times had Lawrence half carried Holo back to a room like this?
Before he met Holo, he had drunk and celebrated any number of times, but he always returned to his inn room alone, where the fear lurked that shocked the intoxication and joy from him.
Yet the fear was not gone.
It had merely been replaced with a new fear, as he wondered how many times he would be able to do this with her.
Though he knew it to be impossible, there was no escaping how much he wanted to tell Holo the truth—that he wanted to continue traveling with her forever. He now felt that whatever shape it took, being with her was his dearest wish.
Smiling ruefully to himself, Lawrence turned down the blanket and had Holo sit on the bed. He had gotten so that he could tell when she wasn't feigning sleep.
He unwrapped her cape and removed her robe, took her coat off, and helped her out of her shoes and sash—all with such skill it was almost sad. He then laid her down on the bed.
She slept so deeply he didn't think she would notice if he was to fall upon her.
***
The wine helped such notions bubble up in his mind, but he suddenly remembered Holo's shamelessness. She really wouldn't notice, right up until the end.
There is nothing so futile as all this, he thought, wilting faster than a popping bubble.


Instruction: Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can.

Input:
Holo had a dreamy smile on her face as she walked, perhaps thanks to the satisfaction that came with demolishing the roast.
Lawrence held her hand to keep her from straying off the path.
***
"Hmm?" Lawrence intoned. It had seemed like Holo was about to say something, but she merely shook her head.
"'Tis a good evening, is all," said Holo, looking vaguely down at the ground.
Lawrence, of course, agreed. "Still, we'd soon turn rotten if we spent every evening thus."
A week of such indulgence would empty his coin purse and turn his brains to mush, no doubt.
Holo seemed to agree.
She chuckled quietly.
"'Tis saltwater, after all."
"Hmm?"
"Sweet saltwater..."
Was she drunk, or was she trying to snare him yet again? Lawrence considered a reply, but the mood was too lovely to spoil with boorish chatter. He said nothing, and at length they arrived at the inn.
No matter how drunk they are, town dwellers can always find their way home as long as they can walk, but it is a bit different for travelers. No matter how tired their feet, they can persevere until they reach their inn.
Holo seemed to collapse as soon as Lawrence opened the door to the inn's entryway.
No, Lawrence thought, she's probably just feigning sleep.
"Goodness. At any other inn, you'd be scolded by the innkeeper," came Eve's hoarse voice. She and Arold were huddled around the charcoal hearth, Eve's head covered as usual.
"Only on the first night. After that, they'd give us a hearty laugh, no doubt."
"She drinks that much?"
"As you can see."
Eve chuckled voicelessly and sipped her wine.
Lawrence passed the two of them, staying next to Holo in order to support her, when Arold—who had been reclining in his chair, eyes closed and apparently sleeping—spoke up.
"About that fur merchant from the north. I talked with him. Said the snow's light this year, good conditions for travel."
"I appreciate your asking."
"If you want to know more...I forgot to ask his name again."
"It's Kolka Kuus," offered Eve.
Murmured Arold, "Ah yes, that was his name."
Lawrence would have liked to stay longer in this relaxed atmosphere.
"That Kuus fellow is staying on the fourth floor. He said he was mostly free in the evenings, so if you want to know more, go ahead and stop by his room."
Everything was going extremely well.
But Holo pulled on his sleeve as if to hurry him, so Lawrence paid his thanks to Arold and took his leave, and the two began to ascend the stairs. Just as they did, Lawrence caught a glimpse of Eve raising a wine cup to him, as if to say, "Hurry back down."
Step by step, they climbed the staircase, finally arriving at their room and opening the door.
How many times had Lawrence half carried Holo back to a room like this?
Before he met Holo, he had drunk and celebrated any number of times, but he always returned to his inn room alone, where the fear lurked that shocked the intoxication and joy from him.
Yet the fear was not gone.
It had merely been replaced with a new fear, as he wondered how many times he would be able to do this with her.
Though he knew it to be impossible, there was no escaping how much he wanted to tell Holo the truth—that he wanted to continue traveling with her forever. He now felt that whatever shape it took, being with her was his dearest wish.
Smiling ruefully to himself, Lawrence turned down the blanket and had Holo sit on the bed. He had gotten so that he could tell when she wasn't feigning sleep.
He unwrapped her cape and removed her robe, took her coat off, and helped her out of her shoes and sash—all with such skill it was almost sad. He then laid her down on the bed.
She slept so deeply he didn't think she would notice if he was to fall upon her.
***
The wine helped such notions bubble up in his mind, but he suddenly remembered Holo's shamelessness. She really wouldn't notice, right up until the end.
There is nothing so futile as all this, he thought, wilting faster than a popping bubble.

Output:
Holo opened her eyes and gradually focused on him.
"What's wrong?" Lawrence asked, alarmed at the sudden thought that she might be feeling sick.
But that didn't seem to be the case.
From beneath the blanket, Holo reached her hand out.
He took it without thinking. Her grip was weak.
***
"Huh?"
"...Scared," said Holo, closing her eyes.
He wondered if she had been having a bad dream. When she opened her eyes again, her face was tinged with a lingering embarrassment, as though she'd said too much.
"What could you possibly have to be afraid of?" asked Lawrence in a cheery tone, and he thought he saw a grateful smile flicker on her face for a moment. "Everything's going well right now, is it not? We have the books. We haven't gotten swept up in any trouble. The path to the northlands is unseasonably clear. And"—he held her hand up for a moment, then lowered it—"we have yet to quarrel."
This seemed to work.
Holo smiled, then closed her eyes again and sighed softly.
"You dunce..."
She snatched her hand away and wrapped herself up in the blanket.
There was only one thing Holo was afraid of.
Loneliness.
So was it the end of the journey that she feared? Lawrence himself feared it, and if that was the case, perhaps their travel proceeded too smoothly.
But even so, that didn't quite seem to fit the expression on her face right now.
Holo did not open her eyes for some time. Just when Lawrence began to wonder if she was asleep, her ears twitched as if she anticipated something, and she stuck her chin out a bit. "...What I'm afraid of, it is...," she began, then lowered her head when Lawrence reached out to caress it. "This is what I fear."
"Huh?"
"Do you not understand?" Holo opened her eyes and looked at Lawrence.
Her eyes shone, not with scorn or anger but with terror.
Whatever it was, she truly feared it.
But Lawrence could not for the life of him imagine what that was. "I don't. Unless...are you afraid of the end of our travels?" Lawrence managed to ask, though it took all his strength to do so.
Holo's expression softened somehow. "That is, of course...frightening, yes. This has been the most fun I have had in a great while. But there is something I fear still more..."
She suddenly seemed very distant.
"'Tis well if you don't understand. No"—she said, pulling her hand out from underneath the blanket and clasping the hand with which Lawrence still stroked her head—"even more than that, 'twould be troublesome if you did."
She then laughed at some jest, covering her face with both hands.
Strangely, Lawrence did not feel like this was a rejection.
It rather seemed to be the opposite.
Holo curled up into a ball beneath the blanket, seeming this time to truly intend on sleeping.
—But then she popped her head out again, as though suddenly remembering something. "I do not mind if you go downstairs, so long as you do nothing to make me jealous."
She had either noticed Eve's gesture or was simply luring him into a trap.
In either case, she was correct about his plans. Lawrence patted her head lightly before answering. "Apparently I have a soft spot for jealous, self-loathing girls."
Holo smiled, flashing her fangs. "I shall sleep now," she said, then dove again beneath the blanket.
Lawrence still didn't know what she feared.
But he wanted to allay that fear if he could.
He gazed at the palm of his hand, the sensation of her head beneath it was still palpable. He closed it lightly, as if to prevent it from disappearing.
He wanted to stay longer, but he needed to go and thank Eve for introducing him to Rigolo.
She was a merchant who might well be gone from the town tomorrow, depending on circumstances, and he didn't want Eve to think of him as the kind of man who would tend to his companion before expressing proper gratitude.
After all, Lawrence himself had been a merchant for nearly half his life.
"I'll be downstairs, then," he murmured by way of some sort of excuse.


Instruction: Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can.

Input:
Holo opened her eyes and gradually focused on him.
"What's wrong?" Lawrence asked, alarmed at the sudden thought that she might be feeling sick.
But that didn't seem to be the case.
From beneath the blanket, Holo reached her hand out.
He took it without thinking. Her grip was weak.
***
"Huh?"
"...Scared," said Holo, closing her eyes.
He wondered if she had been having a bad dream. When she opened her eyes again, her face was tinged with a lingering embarrassment, as though she'd said too much.
"What could you possibly have to be afraid of?" asked Lawrence in a cheery tone, and he thought he saw a grateful smile flicker on her face for a moment. "Everything's going well right now, is it not? We have the books. We haven't gotten swept up in any trouble. The path to the northlands is unseasonably clear. And"—he held her hand up for a moment, then lowered it—"we have yet to quarrel."
This seemed to work.
Holo smiled, then closed her eyes again and sighed softly.
"You dunce..."
She snatched her hand away and wrapped herself up in the blanket.
There was only one thing Holo was afraid of.
Loneliness.
So was it the end of the journey that she feared? Lawrence himself feared it, and if that was the case, perhaps their travel proceeded too smoothly.
But even so, that didn't quite seem to fit the expression on her face right now.
Holo did not open her eyes for some time. Just when Lawrence began to wonder if she was asleep, her ears twitched as if she anticipated something, and she stuck her chin out a bit. "...What I'm afraid of, it is...," she began, then lowered her head when Lawrence reached out to caress it. "This is what I fear."
"Huh?"
"Do you not understand?" Holo opened her eyes and looked at Lawrence.
Her eyes shone, not with scorn or anger but with terror.
Whatever it was, she truly feared it.
But Lawrence could not for the life of him imagine what that was. "I don't. Unless...are you afraid of the end of our travels?" Lawrence managed to ask, though it took all his strength to do so.
Holo's expression softened somehow. "That is, of course...frightening, yes. This has been the most fun I have had in a great while. But there is something I fear still more..."
She suddenly seemed very distant.
"'Tis well if you don't understand. No"—she said, pulling her hand out from underneath the blanket and clasping the hand with which Lawrence still stroked her head—"even more than that, 'twould be troublesome if you did."
She then laughed at some jest, covering her face with both hands.
Strangely, Lawrence did not feel like this was a rejection.
It rather seemed to be the opposite.
Holo curled up into a ball beneath the blanket, seeming this time to truly intend on sleeping.
—But then she popped her head out again, as though suddenly remembering something. "I do not mind if you go downstairs, so long as you do nothing to make me jealous."
She had either noticed Eve's gesture or was simply luring him into a trap.
In either case, she was correct about his plans. Lawrence patted her head lightly before answering. "Apparently I have a soft spot for jealous, self-loathing girls."
Holo smiled, flashing her fangs. "I shall sleep now," she said, then dove again beneath the blanket.
Lawrence still didn't know what she feared.
But he wanted to allay that fear if he could.
He gazed at the palm of his hand, the sensation of her head beneath it was still palpable. He closed it lightly, as if to prevent it from disappearing.
He wanted to stay longer, but he needed to go and thank Eve for introducing him to Rigolo.
She was a merchant who might well be gone from the town tomorrow, depending on circumstances, and he didn't want Eve to think of him as the kind of man who would tend to his companion before expressing proper gratitude.
After all, Lawrence himself had been a merchant for nearly half his life.
"I'll be downstairs, then," he murmured by way of some sort of excuse.

Output:
***
Yes, all he feared was the end of the journey.
But what did Holo fear?
Lawrence was lost in thought like a little boy.
Lawrence saw three inn patrons drinking on the second floor. One of them seemed like a merchant; the other two were probably itinerant craftsmen. If they had all been merchants, it was unlikely they would have been able to drink together so quietly, so Lawrence was confident in his guess.
He reached the first floor. Arold and Eve were still there.
It was almost as if time had stopped. Nothing had changed since he went upstairs. The two of them did not speak and stared in different directions.
"Did a witch sneeze?" Lawrence asked. It was a common superstition that a witch's sneeze could stop time.
Arold only looked in Lawrence's direction with his deep-set eyes.
If Eve hadn't laughed, he would have worried he'd made some kind of faux pas.
"I'm a merchant, but not so the old man. Hard to make conversation," said Eve.
Perhaps because there was nothing that served as a proper chair, she gestured at an empty wooden box.
"I was able to meet with Rigolo thanks to you. He certainly was a melancholy sort," said Lawrence, taking the cup of wine Arold offered him. Someone could tell the stoic old man that his beloved daughter had come, and he probably wouldn't even go out to meet her.
Eve laughed. "He is, isn't he! There's no helping a man that gloomy."
"I do envy that technique of his, though."
"So you saw that?" Eve said with a smile. "He likes you. If you could get him to help you with business, you'd be able to strip most merchants naked, don't you think?"
"Unfortunately, he didn't seem inclined."
Rigolo was entirely indifferent to such things.
"That's because he's got everything he could ever want in that run-down, old place of his. You saw the garden, right?"
"It was incredible. You hardly ever see glass windows that large."
Eve's face was tilted down, but she looked up a bit and grinned at Lawrence's purposefully merchantlike answer. "I'd never be able to handle such a life. I'd go mad, I tell you."
Even if Lawrence didn't feel as strongly about this, he understood Eve's sentiment.
Merchants thought of profit roughly as often as they breathed.
"So did you hear about the meeting?" Eve's eyes peered out from beneath her cowl. Arold turned an openly baleful gaze upon her. She looked away.
Lawrence wore a smile, but beneath that, his merchant's face was ready.
"Apparently it's finished," he said.
Of course, Eve had no way of knowing whether or not that was true; she probably half doubted his answer.
That was assuming she didn't have any background information. If she did, this new revelation might well tell her all sorts of things.
"And its conclusion?" she asked.
"Unfortunately, we didn't get that far."
Eve looked closely at him from beneath her cowl, like a child staring at an hourglass waiting for it to run out, but presently she seemed to decide that no amount of gazing would reveal any more information.
She looked away, sipping her wine.
It was time to go on the offensive.
"Have you heard anything yourself, Eve?"
"Me? Ha! No, he's completely suspicious of me. Still, whether or not I believe you...hmm. Did those words really come out of his mouth?"
"It may well be the truth," said Lawrence.
If a conclusion had indeed been reached, then there might be others who knew what it was and whose lips would be looser. If the meeting's conclusion wasn't something that would profit foreign merchants, then no one would be harmed by its telling.
In the first place, official town meetings were held based on the assumption that their contents would be made public.
"What worries, me, though...," started Lawrence.
"Mm?" Eve folded her arms and looked in his direction.
"...is why exactly you are pursuing this avenue of conversation in the first place, Eve."
Lawrence thought Arold might have smiled.
In a conversation between merchants, the interests and motivations of the participants were obscure, indistinct.


Instruction: Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can.

Input:
***
Yes, all he feared was the end of the journey.
But what did Holo fear?
Lawrence was lost in thought like a little boy.
Lawrence saw three inn patrons drinking on the second floor. One of them seemed like a merchant; the other two were probably itinerant craftsmen. If they had all been merchants, it was unlikely they would have been able to drink together so quietly, so Lawrence was confident in his guess.
He reached the first floor. Arold and Eve were still there.
It was almost as if time had stopped. Nothing had changed since he went upstairs. The two of them did not speak and stared in different directions.
"Did a witch sneeze?" Lawrence asked. It was a common superstition that a witch's sneeze could stop time.
Arold only looked in Lawrence's direction with his deep-set eyes.
If Eve hadn't laughed, he would have worried he'd made some kind of faux pas.
"I'm a merchant, but not so the old man. Hard to make conversation," said Eve.
Perhaps because there was nothing that served as a proper chair, she gestured at an empty wooden box.
"I was able to meet with Rigolo thanks to you. He certainly was a melancholy sort," said Lawrence, taking the cup of wine Arold offered him. Someone could tell the stoic old man that his beloved daughter had come, and he probably wouldn't even go out to meet her.
Eve laughed. "He is, isn't he! There's no helping a man that gloomy."
"I do envy that technique of his, though."
"So you saw that?" Eve said with a smile. "He likes you. If you could get him to help you with business, you'd be able to strip most merchants naked, don't you think?"
"Unfortunately, he didn't seem inclined."
Rigolo was entirely indifferent to such things.
"That's because he's got everything he could ever want in that run-down, old place of his. You saw the garden, right?"
"It was incredible. You hardly ever see glass windows that large."
Eve's face was tilted down, but she looked up a bit and grinned at Lawrence's purposefully merchantlike answer. "I'd never be able to handle such a life. I'd go mad, I tell you."
Even if Lawrence didn't feel as strongly about this, he understood Eve's sentiment.
Merchants thought of profit roughly as often as they breathed.
"So did you hear about the meeting?" Eve's eyes peered out from beneath her cowl. Arold turned an openly baleful gaze upon her. She looked away.
Lawrence wore a smile, but beneath that, his merchant's face was ready.
"Apparently it's finished," he said.
Of course, Eve had no way of knowing whether or not that was true; she probably half doubted his answer.
That was assuming she didn't have any background information. If she did, this new revelation might well tell her all sorts of things.
"And its conclusion?" she asked.
"Unfortunately, we didn't get that far."
Eve looked closely at him from beneath her cowl, like a child staring at an hourglass waiting for it to run out, but presently she seemed to decide that no amount of gazing would reveal any more information.
She looked away, sipping her wine.
It was time to go on the offensive.
"Have you heard anything yourself, Eve?"
"Me? Ha! No, he's completely suspicious of me. Still, whether or not I believe you...hmm. Did those words really come out of his mouth?"
"It may well be the truth," said Lawrence.
If a conclusion had indeed been reached, then there might be others who knew what it was and whose lips would be looser. If the meeting's conclusion wasn't something that would profit foreign merchants, then no one would be harmed by its telling.
In the first place, official town meetings were held based on the assumption that their contents would be made public.
"What worries, me, though...," started Lawrence.
"Mm?" Eve folded her arms and looked in his direction.
"...is why exactly you are pursuing this avenue of conversation in the first place, Eve."
Lawrence thought Arold might have smiled.
In a conversation between merchants, the interests and motivations of the participants were obscure, indistinct.

Output:
It was hard to imagine a woman having such steady resolve.
No, to be a woman and a merchant, she would have to have that resolve.
"I'm like the rest," said Eve. "I want to know how I can turn this into a huge gain. That's all. What else would there be?"
"You could be trying to avoid a huge loss."
Lawrence remembered the Ruvinheigen incident.
Even if one understood such loss intellectually, it was impossible to truly imagine until one experienced it for him or herself.
"People have two eyes, but it's no mean feat to watch two things at once. Though I suppose from a certain perspective, you're right about trying to avoid a loss."
"By which you mean...?" asked Lawrence. Eve scratched her head at this.
Arold watched them, smiling beneath his bushy beard. The two were like longtime boon companions.
"I trade in stone statues."
"Of the Holy Mother?"
The statue in Rigolo's house flashed through Lawrence's mind.
"Didn't you see the one in Rigolo's place? It's from a port town called Gerube on the western seacoast. I buy them there and sell them at the church here. That was my business. Since it just amounts to transporting and selling stone, there's not much profit in it, but if you can get one blessed by the Church, it'll sell for far more. The pagans are stronger in this region, so when the northern campaign comes through, it brings throngs of people who want to buy statues."
It was the strange alchemy of the Church. Just like in Kumersun, where speculation and enthusiasm drove the price of iron pyrite sky-high, religious faith could easily be turned into cash.
It was enough to make Lawrence want to have a go at it.
"Unfortunately, I don't see any of that profit, but in exchange, I moved a respectable amount. But that's all wiped out with the cancellation of the northern campaign. I've learned firsthand that no one hangs you out to dry faster than the Church."
It was hard to imagine a greater tragedy than carrying all your assets as heavy, unwieldy statues.
Transport costs would rise. Places to sell were limited. If she had gotten together credit to make her transaction bigger, her business might well suffocate.
Lawrence didn't think a merchant of Eve's stature would put all her risk in one place like that, so she probably wasn't facing utter ruin—but it was still a serious blow.
It would hardly be strange if, in her frustration, she turned her eye to speculation.
"The Church's influence is waning in the south, I hear. I'd been thinking it was time to stop loading my goods on a sinking ship—figured I'd make one last big deal, then make a break for it."
This suggested that she wouldn't be able to make a break for it unless she was able to make that one last deal.
"So," continued Eve, "we were just talking about how if I manage to hit it big, we might as well head south."
Lawrence didn't have to ask with whom.
Beside her, Arold murmured, "Been thinking it's about time for a pilgrimage."
A trip like that wouldn't be much different than looking for a place to bury his old bones.
Arold had been talking about going on a pilgrimage ever since Lawrence had started coming to his inn, but this time he sounded serious.
"So, that's how it is," said Eve, pulling Lawrence's gaze to her. "Want to lend me some coin?"
The sudden request did not seem connected to anything.
Yet Lawrence was not particularly surprised. He'd had a certain premonition that something like this was coming.
"I've got some very accurate information about the content of the council meeting," said Eve. "I can make all the arrangements. I just need money."
Her eyes were fixed steadily on Lawrence. She almost glared at him, but he could tell that it was something of an act.
"If I look at the details of the investment and decide the risk is worth the profit—with pleasure."


Instruction: Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can.

Input:
It was hard to imagine a woman having such steady resolve.
No, to be a woman and a merchant, she would have to have that resolve.
"I'm like the rest," said Eve. "I want to know how I can turn this into a huge gain. That's all. What else would there be?"
"You could be trying to avoid a huge loss."
Lawrence remembered the Ruvinheigen incident.
Even if one understood such loss intellectually, it was impossible to truly imagine until one experienced it for him or herself.
"People have two eyes, but it's no mean feat to watch two things at once. Though I suppose from a certain perspective, you're right about trying to avoid a loss."
"By which you mean...?" asked Lawrence. Eve scratched her head at this.
Arold watched them, smiling beneath his bushy beard. The two were like longtime boon companions.
"I trade in stone statues."
"Of the Holy Mother?"
The statue in Rigolo's house flashed through Lawrence's mind.
"Didn't you see the one in Rigolo's place? It's from a port town called Gerube on the western seacoast. I buy them there and sell them at the church here. That was my business. Since it just amounts to transporting and selling stone, there's not much profit in it, but if you can get one blessed by the Church, it'll sell for far more. The pagans are stronger in this region, so when the northern campaign comes through, it brings throngs of people who want to buy statues."
It was the strange alchemy of the Church. Just like in Kumersun, where speculation and enthusiasm drove the price of iron pyrite sky-high, religious faith could easily be turned into cash.
It was enough to make Lawrence want to have a go at it.
"Unfortunately, I don't see any of that profit, but in exchange, I moved a respectable amount. But that's all wiped out with the cancellation of the northern campaign. I've learned firsthand that no one hangs you out to dry faster than the Church."
It was hard to imagine a greater tragedy than carrying all your assets as heavy, unwieldy statues.
Transport costs would rise. Places to sell were limited. If she had gotten together credit to make her transaction bigger, her business might well suffocate.
Lawrence didn't think a merchant of Eve's stature would put all her risk in one place like that, so she probably wasn't facing utter ruin—but it was still a serious blow.
It would hardly be strange if, in her frustration, she turned her eye to speculation.
"The Church's influence is waning in the south, I hear. I'd been thinking it was time to stop loading my goods on a sinking ship—figured I'd make one last big deal, then make a break for it."
This suggested that she wouldn't be able to make a break for it unless she was able to make that one last deal.
"So," continued Eve, "we were just talking about how if I manage to hit it big, we might as well head south."
Lawrence didn't have to ask with whom.
Beside her, Arold murmured, "Been thinking it's about time for a pilgrimage."
A trip like that wouldn't be much different than looking for a place to bury his old bones.
Arold had been talking about going on a pilgrimage ever since Lawrence had started coming to his inn, but this time he sounded serious.
"So, that's how it is," said Eve, pulling Lawrence's gaze to her. "Want to lend me some coin?"
The sudden request did not seem connected to anything.
Yet Lawrence was not particularly surprised. He'd had a certain premonition that something like this was coming.
"I've got some very accurate information about the content of the council meeting," said Eve. "I can make all the arrangements. I just need money."
Her eyes were fixed steadily on Lawrence. She almost glared at him, but he could tell that it was something of an act.
"If I look at the details of the investment and decide the risk is worth the profit—with pleasure."

Output:
"What's your source?" It was probably useless to ask—like trying to get a barmaid to tell her real age.
"The Church."
"Even though they turned their back on you?" Lawrence shot back.
Eve shrugged, smiling. "We might have split on bad terms, but everyone knows to leave a few sympathetic contacts behind."
Lawrence obviously couldn't trust her, but she didn't seem to be lying, either. It was a lot easier to believe this explanation than if she had just claimed to have heard it from Rigolo. "So what's the deal?"
"The provision will be that anyone buying furs will have to do so with cash."
There on the brink of the possible monopolization of the town's fur trade, Lawrence had wondered what decision would be handed down—but the cleverness of this particular plan made him speak without thinking.
"So they're not saying 'no sales,' but at the same time, merchants from distant places are hardly carrying significant coin."
"Exactly. But they can't very well return empty-handed, so they'll buy whatever fur they can afford with the miniscule cash they have on hand."
This meant that with cash, it would be possible to buy up the fine furs of Lenos and take them to some other town.
But something bothered Lawrence.
Now that Eve had told him this, there was nothing stopping him from cutting her out of the deal and doing it himself.
"You seem strangely comfortable talking about this with me."
"If all you care about is making a little extra allowance, then by all means, go do this deal yourself."
Eve's expression was unreadable beneath her cowl.
Was she merely looking down on him, or was there some reason why this deal couldn't work with just one person?
He couldn't say anything careless, Lawrence concluded, as he waited for her to continue.
"In reality, you don't actually have that much money, do you?"
"I won't disagree."
"Then you shouldn't waste this opportunity. You didn't even know Rigolo before I introduced you. Who in this town would be willing to lend you money?"
She was quite correct.
But something occurred to Lawrence, and it sent a chill down his spine.
It was possible that the reason Eve approached him in the first place was in order to evaluate him as an investor. If so, there was a huge discrepancy in the information they had.
Lawrence didn't know anything about her.
"True, but I could head back to a different city and raise the money there. But isn't that what you're counting on me doing anyway by proposing I invest in this opportunity?"
He didn't have a large amount of cash, and there was nowhere in this town where he could borrow the money, so that had to be it.
But Eve shook her head slowly. "Naturally, I took a look at you and your companion, the way you paid for the inn, and I figured if you went all in, you'd be good for maybe a thousand pieces of trenni silver. But by the time you get it together, the furs will be bought up is my guess."
The back of the back was the front.
The more careful Lawrence was to stay out of Eve's trap, the more tangled up he felt his feet becoming.
Wasn't the decision of the council intended to prevent all the fur from being bought up?
At a glance, the idea of limiting fur purchases to cash only had struck him as a clever plan.
"You don't actually think that all those merchants outside of town are just hanging out there separately for no reason, do you?"
"Somebody with real money is using them to make an even bigger profit," Lawrence suddenly realized.
"Yup. This, friend, is a trade war."
"A trade...war?"
It was an unfamiliar term and was the first time Lawrence had heard the phrase, but something about it made his merchant heart tremble.
"I guess you don't spend a lot of time near the sea. Go into any tavern in a port town and drink with the merchants there. You'll hear talk of the trade wars, believe me. It's not something that just happens out of nowhere. We're merchants, not bandits. The attacker has to make preparations well in advance."


Instruction: Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can.

Input:
"What's your source?" It was probably useless to ask—like trying to get a barmaid to tell her real age.
"The Church."
"Even though they turned their back on you?" Lawrence shot back.
Eve shrugged, smiling. "We might have split on bad terms, but everyone knows to leave a few sympathetic contacts behind."
Lawrence obviously couldn't trust her, but she didn't seem to be lying, either. It was a lot easier to believe this explanation than if she had just claimed to have heard it from Rigolo. "So what's the deal?"
"The provision will be that anyone buying furs will have to do so with cash."
There on the brink of the possible monopolization of the town's fur trade, Lawrence had wondered what decision would be handed down—but the cleverness of this particular plan made him speak without thinking.
"So they're not saying 'no sales,' but at the same time, merchants from distant places are hardly carrying significant coin."
"Exactly. But they can't very well return empty-handed, so they'll buy whatever fur they can afford with the miniscule cash they have on hand."
This meant that with cash, it would be possible to buy up the fine furs of Lenos and take them to some other town.
But something bothered Lawrence.
Now that Eve had told him this, there was nothing stopping him from cutting her out of the deal and doing it himself.
"You seem strangely comfortable talking about this with me."
"If all you care about is making a little extra allowance, then by all means, go do this deal yourself."
Eve's expression was unreadable beneath her cowl.
Was she merely looking down on him, or was there some reason why this deal couldn't work with just one person?
He couldn't say anything careless, Lawrence concluded, as he waited for her to continue.
"In reality, you don't actually have that much money, do you?"
"I won't disagree."
"Then you shouldn't waste this opportunity. You didn't even know Rigolo before I introduced you. Who in this town would be willing to lend you money?"
She was quite correct.
But something occurred to Lawrence, and it sent a chill down his spine.
It was possible that the reason Eve approached him in the first place was in order to evaluate him as an investor. If so, there was a huge discrepancy in the information they had.
Lawrence didn't know anything about her.
"True, but I could head back to a different city and raise the money there. But isn't that what you're counting on me doing anyway by proposing I invest in this opportunity?"
He didn't have a large amount of cash, and there was nowhere in this town where he could borrow the money, so that had to be it.
But Eve shook her head slowly. "Naturally, I took a look at you and your companion, the way you paid for the inn, and I figured if you went all in, you'd be good for maybe a thousand pieces of trenni silver. But by the time you get it together, the furs will be bought up is my guess."
The back of the back was the front.
The more careful Lawrence was to stay out of Eve's trap, the more tangled up he felt his feet becoming.
Wasn't the decision of the council intended to prevent all the fur from being bought up?
At a glance, the idea of limiting fur purchases to cash only had struck him as a clever plan.
"You don't actually think that all those merchants outside of town are just hanging out there separately for no reason, do you?"
"Somebody with real money is using them to make an even bigger profit," Lawrence suddenly realized.
"Yup. This, friend, is a trade war."
"A trade...war?"
It was an unfamiliar term and was the first time Lawrence had heard the phrase, but something about it made his merchant heart tremble.
"I guess you don't spend a lot of time near the sea. Go into any tavern in a port town and drink with the merchants there. You'll hear talk of the trade wars, believe me. It's not something that just happens out of nowhere. We're merchants, not bandits. The attacker has to make preparations well in advance."

Output:
"Odds are, the merchants camped outside the town are taking guesses at how the council decision is going to go and firming up their plans. How many people with money do you think there are in this town?"
Posed this question out of the blue, there was no way to be sure—except Lawrence was a merchant.
A rough estimate based on the size of the town appeared immediately in his head.
"The number of trading firms worth mentioning...maybe twenty, of various sizes. Shops specializing in a particular kind of good...perhaps two or three hundred. Maybe the same number of prosperous craftsmen."
"Roughly, yes. And among those, the question is how many will put their own gain in front of the town's."
Lawrence could not answer that question. Not because he lacked information about the town, but rather because people always hid their selfish desires even as they tried to fulfill them.
"Anyway, if even one of those trading firms chooses treachery, they'll sneak away with all the fur. If they operated through a branch office of another town, it would be easy to hide what they were doing."
Merchants were a generally sociable group and would not lightly betray a town in which they had operated profitably for years. But enough profit would cause anyone's loyalty to waver.
"Of course," continued Eve, "I doubt a large trading company would turn traitor. Nowadays everything's recorded in account ledgers, so it would be easy to see what they'd done. If they secretly lent money to an outside merchant, it could be traced."
Lawrence understood immediately. "Even if they had a hidden, unrecorded source of money, the council could stop that with a single line, 'The source of all money used to purchase furs must be confirmed.'"
He had thought that the foreign merchant registration plaques being handed out at the town gates were to prevent foreign merchants from laying unexpected traps, but now the practice felt much more significant than that.
Lawrence thought back to the strangely thorough inspection he and Holo had undergone. In retrospect, it had probably been to prevent travelers from bringing large amounts of money into the city.
Had the council arrived at its decision even then?
"But there are many, many other people with money outside of trading companies. The heads of the tanneries and the people who trade in the fur-tanning materials all have reason to be pessimistic about the future of the fur trade in this town. They're going to be looking for capital in order to get into new businesses, and they'll be happy to deal with the merchants that are threatening the town in order to raise that capital. The council's policy probably is the best choice they have, but hardly anyone actually thinks that such a policy is going to stop the fur from being completely bought up. Let me say it again—"
Eve's voice was cold.
"—this town's fur will be completely bought out."
Was she suggesting that they close that gap and buy it themselves?
Defeating the merchants who planned to monopolize Lenos's fur trade meant being both inside and outside the town.
They must have understood that as long as they tried to infiltrate the town, not only would the council decision not come down, but the defensive measures the town took would only be redoubled—so they made camp outside of town.
In that case, even when the council's decision did come out, the merchants wouldn't immediately enter the town. They would only make their move after the public proclamation, ensuring it couldn't be reversed.
It was not impossible that Lawrence and Eve would be able to buy up the fur.
"You know then that there's no time to go to another city and borrow the money, so I can't help you. As you said, I have no connections here," said Lawrence.
This was the most puzzling part.
What was Eve planning?
Blue eyes peered out from beneath her cowl.
"Ah, but you do have one huge asset."
Lawrence quickly ran through the list of what he had on hand.


Instruction: Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can.

Input:
"Odds are, the merchants camped outside the town are taking guesses at how the council decision is going to go and firming up their plans. How many people with money do you think there are in this town?"
Posed this question out of the blue, there was no way to be sure—except Lawrence was a merchant.
A rough estimate based on the size of the town appeared immediately in his head.
"The number of trading firms worth mentioning...maybe twenty, of various sizes. Shops specializing in a particular kind of good...perhaps two or three hundred. Maybe the same number of prosperous craftsmen."
"Roughly, yes. And among those, the question is how many will put their own gain in front of the town's."
Lawrence could not answer that question. Not because he lacked information about the town, but rather because people always hid their selfish desires even as they tried to fulfill them.
"Anyway, if even one of those trading firms chooses treachery, they'll sneak away with all the fur. If they operated through a branch office of another town, it would be easy to hide what they were doing."
Merchants were a generally sociable group and would not lightly betray a town in which they had operated profitably for years. But enough profit would cause anyone's loyalty to waver.
"Of course," continued Eve, "I doubt a large trading company would turn traitor. Nowadays everything's recorded in account ledgers, so it would be easy to see what they'd done. If they secretly lent money to an outside merchant, it could be traced."
Lawrence understood immediately. "Even if they had a hidden, unrecorded source of money, the council could stop that with a single line, 'The source of all money used to purchase furs must be confirmed.'"
He had thought that the foreign merchant registration plaques being handed out at the town gates were to prevent foreign merchants from laying unexpected traps, but now the practice felt much more significant than that.
Lawrence thought back to the strangely thorough inspection he and Holo had undergone. In retrospect, it had probably been to prevent travelers from bringing large amounts of money into the city.
Had the council arrived at its decision even then?
"But there are many, many other people with money outside of trading companies. The heads of the tanneries and the people who trade in the fur-tanning materials all have reason to be pessimistic about the future of the fur trade in this town. They're going to be looking for capital in order to get into new businesses, and they'll be happy to deal with the merchants that are threatening the town in order to raise that capital. The council's policy probably is the best choice they have, but hardly anyone actually thinks that such a policy is going to stop the fur from being completely bought up. Let me say it again—"
Eve's voice was cold.
"—this town's fur will be completely bought out."
Was she suggesting that they close that gap and buy it themselves?
Defeating the merchants who planned to monopolize Lenos's fur trade meant being both inside and outside the town.
They must have understood that as long as they tried to infiltrate the town, not only would the council decision not come down, but the defensive measures the town took would only be redoubled—so they made camp outside of town.
In that case, even when the council's decision did come out, the merchants wouldn't immediately enter the town. They would only make their move after the public proclamation, ensuring it couldn't be reversed.
It was not impossible that Lawrence and Eve would be able to buy up the fur.
"You know then that there's no time to go to another city and borrow the money, so I can't help you. As you said, I have no connections here," said Lawrence.
This was the most puzzling part.
What was Eve planning?
Blue eyes peered out from beneath her cowl.
"Ah, but you do have one huge asset."
Lawrence quickly ran through the list of what he had on hand.

Output:
In any case, if Eve knew about it, then it had to be something that was immediately obvious.
The only thing Lawrence could think of was his horse.
Then something else occurred to him. He looked back at Eve in disbelief.
"That's right. You have your lovely companion."
"...That's absurd."
Lawrence was now completely honest.
Though what he meant was not that he couldn't possibly sell Holo, but rather that selling Holo could not possibly raise the amount of money they required.
While it was true that Holo was a striking beauty, that was not something that could immediately be turned into a thousand silver pieces. If it could, beautiful girls everywhere would be constantly getting kidnapped.
It was possible Eve had figured out Holo wasn't human, but even if that was so, it didn't change the situation.
"I figured you'd think so. But there's a reason I chose you." Eve wore a thin smile for a reason Lawrence did not understand.
Perhaps she was merely that confident in herself, or perhaps she was drunk on her own plan. Or perhaps—
Eve removed her cowl, exposing her short, beautiful golden hair and blue eyes. "We'll claim she's a nobleman's daughter and sell her."
"Wha—?"
"Think it's impossible?" Eve grinned, baring her right canine tooth.
It was a smile of self-derision.
"My name is Fleur Bolan. Formally, I am Fleur von Eiterzentel Bolan, eleventh heir to the Bolan clan, which swears fealty to the kingdom of Winfiel. We are title-bearing nobility."
Laughter seemed impossible in the face of so ridiculous a joke.
The eyes and ears that were Lawrence's most important tools told him that Eve was not lying.
"Of course, we're fallen nobility that have trouble even finding food, but the name is grand, isn't it? Once we fell so low that we couldn't afford even bread to feed ourselves, I was sold to a newly wealthy merchant."
That was often the path down which fallen nobility were forced, and it explained her bitter smile.
Despite having fallen from grace, these proud nobles often had their titles and their bodies bought by wealthy merchants.
If this was true, it would explain Eve's strangely world-weary merchant's mien.
"That's the kind of woman I am, so that's why I know one or two places to sell a girl with a noble name. What say you?"
This was business territory Lawrence had never entered before.
Once he had amassed some wealth, the first thing a merchant would do was gild his own name. The massively wealthy owner of a successful trading company might once have been a garbage collector's orphan; such things were not rare. And apparently there were noble titles that one could buy with enough money. Lawrence had heard of such things but had never come face-to-face with the phenomenon.
But here in front of him was Eve, who had been bought in exactly that fashion.
"Your companion can easily pass as nobility. I would know," she said with a smile.
Her voice had turned low and hoarse after she'd suffered such a cursed fate, no doubt.
"Naturally, selling her is not the objective. As I said before, they're going to limit fur purchases to cash only in order to prevent a run on the fur market, but the trading firms here won't lend money to an outside merchant, right? But there's more than one kind of trading firm. If you can give them a good enough reason to, they'll float you a loan in exchange for a cut of the profits, and I happen to know one. 'Selling a noble maiden' is just a pretense, and the trading firm understands that. They just need her as collateral in case our deal falls through. That's how I can guarantee it."
Lawrence found himself half-impressed at the convoluted explanation, but there was no way he was going to toss Holo into hock. It was far too dangerous. Even setting aside the issue of her own safety, if things went badly, there was no question that his life as a merchant would be over.
"I—no, we're not asking you to pawn off your precious companion."


Instruction: Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can.

Input:
In any case, if Eve knew about it, then it had to be something that was immediately obvious.
The only thing Lawrence could think of was his horse.
Then something else occurred to him. He looked back at Eve in disbelief.
"That's right. You have your lovely companion."
"...That's absurd."
Lawrence was now completely honest.
Though what he meant was not that he couldn't possibly sell Holo, but rather that selling Holo could not possibly raise the amount of money they required.
While it was true that Holo was a striking beauty, that was not something that could immediately be turned into a thousand silver pieces. If it could, beautiful girls everywhere would be constantly getting kidnapped.
It was possible Eve had figured out Holo wasn't human, but even if that was so, it didn't change the situation.
"I figured you'd think so. But there's a reason I chose you." Eve wore a thin smile for a reason Lawrence did not understand.
Perhaps she was merely that confident in herself, or perhaps she was drunk on her own plan. Or perhaps—
Eve removed her cowl, exposing her short, beautiful golden hair and blue eyes. "We'll claim she's a nobleman's daughter and sell her."
"Wha—?"
"Think it's impossible?" Eve grinned, baring her right canine tooth.
It was a smile of self-derision.
"My name is Fleur Bolan. Formally, I am Fleur von Eiterzentel Bolan, eleventh heir to the Bolan clan, which swears fealty to the kingdom of Winfiel. We are title-bearing nobility."
Laughter seemed impossible in the face of so ridiculous a joke.
The eyes and ears that were Lawrence's most important tools told him that Eve was not lying.
"Of course, we're fallen nobility that have trouble even finding food, but the name is grand, isn't it? Once we fell so low that we couldn't afford even bread to feed ourselves, I was sold to a newly wealthy merchant."
That was often the path down which fallen nobility were forced, and it explained her bitter smile.
Despite having fallen from grace, these proud nobles often had their titles and their bodies bought by wealthy merchants.
If this was true, it would explain Eve's strangely world-weary merchant's mien.
"That's the kind of woman I am, so that's why I know one or two places to sell a girl with a noble name. What say you?"
This was business territory Lawrence had never entered before.
Once he had amassed some wealth, the first thing a merchant would do was gild his own name. The massively wealthy owner of a successful trading company might once have been a garbage collector's orphan; such things were not rare. And apparently there were noble titles that one could buy with enough money. Lawrence had heard of such things but had never come face-to-face with the phenomenon.
But here in front of him was Eve, who had been bought in exactly that fashion.
"Your companion can easily pass as nobility. I would know," she said with a smile.
Her voice had turned low and hoarse after she'd suffered such a cursed fate, no doubt.
"Naturally, selling her is not the objective. As I said before, they're going to limit fur purchases to cash only in order to prevent a run on the fur market, but the trading firms here won't lend money to an outside merchant, right? But there's more than one kind of trading firm. If you can give them a good enough reason to, they'll float you a loan in exchange for a cut of the profits, and I happen to know one. 'Selling a noble maiden' is just a pretense, and the trading firm understands that. They just need her as collateral in case our deal falls through. That's how I can guarantee it."
Lawrence found himself half-impressed at the convoluted explanation, but there was no way he was going to toss Holo into hock. It was far too dangerous. Even setting aside the issue of her own safety, if things went badly, there was no question that his life as a merchant would be over.
"I—no, we're not asking you to pawn off your precious companion."

Output:
"I'm going on a pilgrimage," said Arold abruptly.
The old man had said it every time Lawrence stayed at the inn.
But Eve had said "we." That meant that Eve had joined up with Arold. It had to be that he really was going on a pilgrimage, and he was leaving Eve in charge of his assets and inn.
And pilgrimages could last for years, sometimes more than a decade. For Arold to go on such a journey at his age meant that he would never again set foot in Lenos.
Which meant—
"This may well be my last chance to go on the journey. I've thought to do it many times in the past and have been able to put away some capital for it. But I was never able to work up the resolve..."
Lawrence's stomach hurt from the suspense.
Arold gave a tired smile and looked at Eve.
He must have weathered some heavy persuasion from the woman.
Then from beneath his wrinkled eyelids, his blue eyes turned toward Lawrence.
"I'll hand over this inn."
Lawrence's breath caught in his throat.
"After all, don't all merchants dream of the same thing?" asked Eve, her voice only now as bright as the noble maid she had once been.
***
Once he'd slept and woken, Lawrence found himself somewhat calmer.
Though he had crawled into bed hoping for just that, Eve and Arold's words were liquor that did not encourage sleep.
"Let us know by tomorrow night whether you're in or out."
The words had echoed through his head over and over.
In exchange for Holo, who they would claim was the sole daughter of the Bolan clan, they would get two thousand, perhaps 2,500 pieces of trenni silver, with which they would buy furs to ship down the Roam River well ahead of anyone else.
Given that it was high-quality Lenos fur, even allowing for tariffs, Eve claimed they would triple their investment.
Despite feeling that this was overoptimistic, Lawrence couldn't help doing a rough estimate in his head.
Supposing that they were able to buy up two thousand silver pieces' worth of fur and triple their money, that left four thousand pieces in profit. Eve, along with Arold, was demanding 80 percent of that. Then there were some needed preparations, along with information fees, and the inn building that Arold was putting up as collateral—which would be given to Lawrence outright.
But the building alone was worth perhaps 1,500 silver, so immediately after he protested that 80 percent was too much, he fell silent.
In addition to the building itself, if everything went well Arold would also turn the inn management rights over to Lawrence.
There wasn't a merchant in the world who didn't understand the value of that.
With an inn, as long as a person had a building, he could open up shop and anticipate steady income—which meant that existing inns had a vested interest in resisting new ones opening and did so vehemently. There was no telling how much it would cost for an outsider to buy the management rights to such an inn.
And if Lawrence was to open an inn in Lenos, the hot springs town of Nyohhira was not far away, and it would be a good starting point to search for Yoitsu.
Given all this, it would have been strange if Lawrence was able to stay calm and think rationally about the situation.
But something about Eve's explanations was too good. At a glance, the plan seemed like it would work, but Lawrence couldn't help thinking that something was strange.
He also wondered if the huge amount of money was making him overthink the situation.
Or perhaps it was the fact that the plan relied on Lawrence raising the money, and to do that, he would have to sell Holo off—even if it was just temporary.
Holo had let herself be captured in Lawrence's place once, back in the port town of Pazzio.
But that time, she had been the one to propose it as the best course of action.
This time, Lawrence would be selling Holo for his own gain.
He suddenly understood why the Church reviled and persecuted his occupation.
There in the darkness, Lawrence wondered if he was really so willing to let Holo pretend she was nobility.


Instruction: Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can.

Input:
"I'm going on a pilgrimage," said Arold abruptly.
The old man had said it every time Lawrence stayed at the inn.
But Eve had said "we." That meant that Eve had joined up with Arold. It had to be that he really was going on a pilgrimage, and he was leaving Eve in charge of his assets and inn.
And pilgrimages could last for years, sometimes more than a decade. For Arold to go on such a journey at his age meant that he would never again set foot in Lenos.
Which meant—
"This may well be my last chance to go on the journey. I've thought to do it many times in the past and have been able to put away some capital for it. But I was never able to work up the resolve..."
Lawrence's stomach hurt from the suspense.
Arold gave a tired smile and looked at Eve.
He must have weathered some heavy persuasion from the woman.
Then from beneath his wrinkled eyelids, his blue eyes turned toward Lawrence.
"I'll hand over this inn."
Lawrence's breath caught in his throat.
"After all, don't all merchants dream of the same thing?" asked Eve, her voice only now as bright as the noble maid she had once been.
***
Once he'd slept and woken, Lawrence found himself somewhat calmer.
Though he had crawled into bed hoping for just that, Eve and Arold's words were liquor that did not encourage sleep.
"Let us know by tomorrow night whether you're in or out."
The words had echoed through his head over and over.
In exchange for Holo, who they would claim was the sole daughter of the Bolan clan, they would get two thousand, perhaps 2,500 pieces of trenni silver, with which they would buy furs to ship down the Roam River well ahead of anyone else.
Given that it was high-quality Lenos fur, even allowing for tariffs, Eve claimed they would triple their investment.
Despite feeling that this was overoptimistic, Lawrence couldn't help doing a rough estimate in his head.
Supposing that they were able to buy up two thousand silver pieces' worth of fur and triple their money, that left four thousand pieces in profit. Eve, along with Arold, was demanding 80 percent of that. Then there were some needed preparations, along with information fees, and the inn building that Arold was putting up as collateral—which would be given to Lawrence outright.
But the building alone was worth perhaps 1,500 silver, so immediately after he protested that 80 percent was too much, he fell silent.
In addition to the building itself, if everything went well Arold would also turn the inn management rights over to Lawrence.
There wasn't a merchant in the world who didn't understand the value of that.
With an inn, as long as a person had a building, he could open up shop and anticipate steady income—which meant that existing inns had a vested interest in resisting new ones opening and did so vehemently. There was no telling how much it would cost for an outsider to buy the management rights to such an inn.
And if Lawrence was to open an inn in Lenos, the hot springs town of Nyohhira was not far away, and it would be a good starting point to search for Yoitsu.
Given all this, it would have been strange if Lawrence was able to stay calm and think rationally about the situation.
But something about Eve's explanations was too good. At a glance, the plan seemed like it would work, but Lawrence couldn't help thinking that something was strange.
He also wondered if the huge amount of money was making him overthink the situation.
Or perhaps it was the fact that the plan relied on Lawrence raising the money, and to do that, he would have to sell Holo off—even if it was just temporary.
Holo had let herself be captured in Lawrence's place once, back in the port town of Pazzio.
But that time, she had been the one to propose it as the best course of action.
This time, Lawrence would be selling Holo for his own gain.
He suddenly understood why the Church reviled and persecuted his occupation.
There in the darkness, Lawrence wondered if he was really so willing to let Holo pretend she was nobility.

Output:
"Come, you."
Lawrence opened his eyes at the sound of Holo's voice.
"...Ugh...is it morning?"
It seemed the endless night had been a dream. When Lawrence opened his eyes, he was greeted by light streaming through the window, along with the sounds of a town already bustling about its morning business.
Evidently sometime during his agitated mental calculations, he had managed to fall asleep.
He took a look at Holo, who stood beside the bed, and when he went to sit up, Lawrence realized he was covered in a terrible night sweat.
It made him think of the first time he had come into an opportunity to make a huge profit, shortly after setting out on his own. He'd woken up so drenched in sweat he was afraid he had wet the bed. And of course, the profit had turned out to be a scam.
"Whatever were you doing last night?" Holo demanded.
She seemed vaguely displeased, but there was no teasing in her voice. Perhaps she was genuinely concerned for him. Lawrence rubbed the slick sweat off the back of his neck. If Holo broke out with a sweat like this, he knew he would be worried about her.
"It was a very...intense conversation."
After he emerged from under the blanket, the cold morning air seemed to freeze the sweat once it made contact with his body.
Holo sat on her own bed and tossed him a cloth, which Lawrence accepted gratefully before stopping short of actually using it.
"I, uh...appreciate the gesture."
"I ought to get my scent on you, after all."
Holo seemed to have used the cloth while grooming her fur; it was covered in the stuff.
If he tried to dry himself off with it, Lawrence doubted it would go well.
"I am worried about you," said Holo.
"Sorry."
When Lawrence was the one worried, she would give him no end of teasing, but apparently she could not abide the situation being reversed.
"As you might have guessed, there's talk of a huge business opportunity."
"From that fox?"
Lawrence would have pegged Eve as a wolf, but Holo was a true wolf and seemed to see Eve as a fox.
"Yes. Or more properly, from Eve, that merchant woman, and Arold, the master of this inn."
"Hnn."
"Oh, indeed?" seemed to be Holo's reply, though it was far from indifferent.
Her tail was slightly fluffed up.
"Having only heard what they had to say, I haven't figured out the angle yet, and of course, I haven't given them an answer. But..."
Holo smoothed down the fur of her fluffed-up tail, replying with narrowed eyes, "But?"
"The profit is—"
"Greater than my preference?" Holo interrupted.
Lawrence closed his mouth, started to speak again, then stopped.
Holo was undoubtedly trying to say that before great profit came great danger.
A dog that burns itself on the hearth will never again approach it.
Only humans were foolish enough to burn themselves trying to snatch a chestnut from a fire again and again.
But roasted chestnuts were sweet indeed, so Lawrence reached into the blazing flames.
"It is great."
Holo slowly narrowed her red-tinged eyes. She stopped tending to her tail and scratched audibly at the base of her ears. But even then, Lawrence could not give up on Eve's proposal. He thought back to the first time he had argued with his old master.
"The profit is this inn itself—or that and more."
Holo could not fail to understand what that meant.
Lawrence anticipated that and spoke simply and plainly.
There was silence for a time.
All that kept it from being unbearable to Lawrence were Holo's red-tinged eyes, which were now nearly as round as the full moon.
"That would be...quite close to fulfilling your dream, would it not?"
"It would," replied Lawrence earnestly. Holo's knife-sharp mood vanished as though it had never been there, and she flicked her right ear back for a moment.
"What is there to debate, then?" she finally said. "I seem to recall that owning a shop is your dream, and if that's so, I've no call to stop you."
Holo took her tail in her hands and began to groom it.
She seemed somehow at a loss with him.


Instruction: Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can.

Input:
"Come, you."
Lawrence opened his eyes at the sound of Holo's voice.
"...Ugh...is it morning?"
It seemed the endless night had been a dream. When Lawrence opened his eyes, he was greeted by light streaming through the window, along with the sounds of a town already bustling about its morning business.
Evidently sometime during his agitated mental calculations, he had managed to fall asleep.
He took a look at Holo, who stood beside the bed, and when he went to sit up, Lawrence realized he was covered in a terrible night sweat.
It made him think of the first time he had come into an opportunity to make a huge profit, shortly after setting out on his own. He'd woken up so drenched in sweat he was afraid he had wet the bed. And of course, the profit had turned out to be a scam.
"Whatever were you doing last night?" Holo demanded.
She seemed vaguely displeased, but there was no teasing in her voice. Perhaps she was genuinely concerned for him. Lawrence rubbed the slick sweat off the back of his neck. If Holo broke out with a sweat like this, he knew he would be worried about her.
"It was a very...intense conversation."
After he emerged from under the blanket, the cold morning air seemed to freeze the sweat once it made contact with his body.
Holo sat on her own bed and tossed him a cloth, which Lawrence accepted gratefully before stopping short of actually using it.
"I, uh...appreciate the gesture."
"I ought to get my scent on you, after all."
Holo seemed to have used the cloth while grooming her fur; it was covered in the stuff.
If he tried to dry himself off with it, Lawrence doubted it would go well.
"I am worried about you," said Holo.
"Sorry."
When Lawrence was the one worried, she would give him no end of teasing, but apparently she could not abide the situation being reversed.
"As you might have guessed, there's talk of a huge business opportunity."
"From that fox?"
Lawrence would have pegged Eve as a wolf, but Holo was a true wolf and seemed to see Eve as a fox.
"Yes. Or more properly, from Eve, that merchant woman, and Arold, the master of this inn."
"Hnn."
"Oh, indeed?" seemed to be Holo's reply, though it was far from indifferent.
Her tail was slightly fluffed up.
"Having only heard what they had to say, I haven't figured out the angle yet, and of course, I haven't given them an answer. But..."
Holo smoothed down the fur of her fluffed-up tail, replying with narrowed eyes, "But?"
"The profit is—"
"Greater than my preference?" Holo interrupted.
Lawrence closed his mouth, started to speak again, then stopped.
Holo was undoubtedly trying to say that before great profit came great danger.
A dog that burns itself on the hearth will never again approach it.
Only humans were foolish enough to burn themselves trying to snatch a chestnut from a fire again and again.
But roasted chestnuts were sweet indeed, so Lawrence reached into the blazing flames.
"It is great."
Holo slowly narrowed her red-tinged eyes. She stopped tending to her tail and scratched audibly at the base of her ears. But even then, Lawrence could not give up on Eve's proposal. He thought back to the first time he had argued with his old master.
"The profit is this inn itself—or that and more."
Holo could not fail to understand what that meant.
Lawrence anticipated that and spoke simply and plainly.
There was silence for a time.
All that kept it from being unbearable to Lawrence were Holo's red-tinged eyes, which were now nearly as round as the full moon.
"That would be...quite close to fulfilling your dream, would it not?"
"It would," replied Lawrence earnestly. Holo's knife-sharp mood vanished as though it had never been there, and she flicked her right ear back for a moment.
"What is there to debate, then?" she finally said. "I seem to recall that owning a shop is your dream, and if that's so, I've no call to stop you."
Holo took her tail in her hands and began to groom it.
She seemed somehow at a loss with him.

Output:
He'd prepared himself for her to categorically refuse—or if she had at least said the scheme was too dangerous, that would have been useful information toward determining the truth behind Eve's words.
Of course, the deal might be the chance of a lifetime, but if it seemed the danger outweighed the gain, he could let it go by.
He could always make money again.
But he would never meet another Holo.
"What ails you? You look like a neglected hound," she said.
Lawrence had been reflexively stroking his beard, and he felt like she had somehow hit the bull's-eye.
"Were you so happy being opposed by me?"
Holo's tail was chestnut brown, but the underside of it was snow white in the middle.
She combed it with her fingers, forming a white ball of fur.
"I assumed you would refuse, then I could go with the prevailing winds and nicely withdraw," said Lawrence honestly, and Holo grinned an exasperated grin at this.
"So you expected I'd shine some light on things with my usual wits and foresight."
"That was part of it."
"And the rest?"
There was no point in hiding what he felt. If he did, she would merely dig it up and toy with him.
"Well, here you are making that irritated face—" he began.
Holo chuckled dryly. "You dunce," she said briefly.
"—so I would ask you in return: Why the sudden change? You hated the idea of me getting involved in business here."
"Hmph," Holo sniffed, but was it because a bit of fluff had stuck to her nose or was she sniffing at his words?
Probably the latter, he decided, but she didn't seem too upset.
"You really are...ah, 'tis not worth saying. I know well what a fool you are. And 'tis a burden on me, ordering you about all the time."
You can't be serious, Lawrence thought—and perhaps sensing this, she gave him a threatening glare, as though she would truly tear him to pieces.
"Honestly...," Holo continued. "In the end, I spoke and acted only out of my own interest. For example, I do feel that simply being able to roam about with you is the best thing for me. All the times I acted as though I was teaching you some great truth of the world, it was just to keep traveling with you. In truth, it was painful."
She took the white ball of collected fluff and blew it aloft, then glumly turned her attention down to her tail.
No, more than glum—her expression said concretely, "This is absurd."
"You should weigh the danger you risk against the profit you stand to gain and act if you feel it is worth it. Wasn't it always your dream to own a shop? I don't want to get in the way of that."
"You're not in the way—"
"And anyway, if I hadn't come along, you'd be able to get involved in anything you wanted, and if your opponent tried to deceive you, you'd be at the ready, waiting to outsmart him and make a huge profit. You had the spirit and recklessness to do that, didn't you? Have you forgotten it?"
At Holo's prodding, Lawrence felt an old memory return to him.
Back in the port town of Pazzio, he had certainly possessed that much initiative. He had been desperate for profit, and would do things no one would believe to overcome what danger there was.
But it was hard to imagine that was only a few months ago. Not even half a year had passed, and yet it felt like those things had happened in the distant past.
Holo curled up into a ball on the blanket, facing Lawrence, her tail wrapped under her in such a way that it came up to the tip of her chin. "Nothing defends its nest like a human male does."
"Er—" was all that Lawrence could manage at her statement.
He only realized it now that he'd been told. The fortress that had grown within him was a defensive one, created when he had felt he would be alone forever.
"But I cannot blame you for that. You...no, I always found your face rather charming when it was so scared of me."
This last jape of hers threw Holo's feelings into still sharper relief.
Of course, that might have been part of her plan.


Instruction: Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can.

Input:
He'd prepared himself for her to categorically refuse—or if she had at least said the scheme was too dangerous, that would have been useful information toward determining the truth behind Eve's words.
Of course, the deal might be the chance of a lifetime, but if it seemed the danger outweighed the gain, he could let it go by.
He could always make money again.
But he would never meet another Holo.
"What ails you? You look like a neglected hound," she said.
Lawrence had been reflexively stroking his beard, and he felt like she had somehow hit the bull's-eye.
"Were you so happy being opposed by me?"
Holo's tail was chestnut brown, but the underside of it was snow white in the middle.
She combed it with her fingers, forming a white ball of fur.
"I assumed you would refuse, then I could go with the prevailing winds and nicely withdraw," said Lawrence honestly, and Holo grinned an exasperated grin at this.
"So you expected I'd shine some light on things with my usual wits and foresight."
"That was part of it."
"And the rest?"
There was no point in hiding what he felt. If he did, she would merely dig it up and toy with him.
"Well, here you are making that irritated face—" he began.
Holo chuckled dryly. "You dunce," she said briefly.
"—so I would ask you in return: Why the sudden change? You hated the idea of me getting involved in business here."
"Hmph," Holo sniffed, but was it because a bit of fluff had stuck to her nose or was she sniffing at his words?
Probably the latter, he decided, but she didn't seem too upset.
"You really are...ah, 'tis not worth saying. I know well what a fool you are. And 'tis a burden on me, ordering you about all the time."
You can't be serious, Lawrence thought—and perhaps sensing this, she gave him a threatening glare, as though she would truly tear him to pieces.
"Honestly...," Holo continued. "In the end, I spoke and acted only out of my own interest. For example, I do feel that simply being able to roam about with you is the best thing for me. All the times I acted as though I was teaching you some great truth of the world, it was just to keep traveling with you. In truth, it was painful."
She took the white ball of collected fluff and blew it aloft, then glumly turned her attention down to her tail.
No, more than glum—her expression said concretely, "This is absurd."
"You should weigh the danger you risk against the profit you stand to gain and act if you feel it is worth it. Wasn't it always your dream to own a shop? I don't want to get in the way of that."
"You're not in the way—"
"And anyway, if I hadn't come along, you'd be able to get involved in anything you wanted, and if your opponent tried to deceive you, you'd be at the ready, waiting to outsmart him and make a huge profit. You had the spirit and recklessness to do that, didn't you? Have you forgotten it?"
At Holo's prodding, Lawrence felt an old memory return to him.
Back in the port town of Pazzio, he had certainly possessed that much initiative. He had been desperate for profit, and would do things no one would believe to overcome what danger there was.
But it was hard to imagine that was only a few months ago. Not even half a year had passed, and yet it felt like those things had happened in the distant past.
Holo curled up into a ball on the blanket, facing Lawrence, her tail wrapped under her in such a way that it came up to the tip of her chin. "Nothing defends its nest like a human male does."
"Er—" was all that Lawrence could manage at her statement.
He only realized it now that he'd been told. The fortress that had grown within him was a defensive one, created when he had felt he would be alone forever.
"But I cannot blame you for that. You...no, I always found your face rather charming when it was so scared of me."
This last jape of hers threw Holo's feelings into still sharper relief.
Of course, that might have been part of her plan.

Output:
Lawrence was about to quickly say that he wanted to do no such thing, but he noticed what Holo was trying to do and swallowed his words.
"You can safely turn your back to me. Right up until you get bitten."
Holo smiled, showing her fangs.
There probably wasn't a merchant alive who kept track of their debts and obligations as carefully as Holo did.
And Lawrence knew many merchants who had established households, and though they were tenacious men, they had fully lost their fight.
If he himself was happy being a thrifty, traveling merchant, then so be it.
But when he asked himself if he was indeed happy with that, Lawrence found he was not so worn-out that he could answer in the affirmative.
After he saw Holo to her homeland and returned to his travel and trading, it would not be so very long before he could raise the capital to open a shop.
But when compared with an inn and the management rights to go with it, that dream seemed desperately humble. With a building and those rights, plus assets to spend as he wished, just thinking about the possibilities was almost frightening.
Could he do it? Lawrence realized he wanted to try.
"Still, there were things about the deal they proposed that made me hesitate."
"Oh?" Holo looked up, interested.
Lawrence scratched his head and mustered his strength. "In order to raise the amount of money they need for the deal, they have to use you."
Holo's expression remained neutral, as if to say, "Go on."
"They're going to pass you off as a noble maiden and put you in pawn to a trading company."
Holo snorted as soon as she heard this. "Don't tell me that's what gave you such sweats last night."
"...You aren't angry?"
"I am only angry if you thought I would be."
He had heard that line before.
Yet Lawrence did not understand what she was getting at.
"You still do not understand?"
Lawrence felt like a young merchant's apprentice, who had been asked a simple question but was unable to answer it.
"You truly are just unbelievable...," said Holo. "Am I not your partner? Or am I just a maiden you fancy yourself protecting?"
When it was put to him that way, Lawrence finally understood.
"Do I not have some of my own virtues? If I can be of some use to your trade, then happily would I turn myself in!"
That was definitely a lie, but it was clear that as long as certain conditions were fulfilled, Holo trusted Lawrence enough to risk even a significant amount of danger.
If Lawrence had failed to recognize her trust in him...well, no wonder she was angry.
And those conditions were to trust her as a partner to grant his mildly unreasonable requests, to trust her as a wisewolf to keep him from falling into disaster, and finally, to respect her as a person of equal status.
As long as he didn't forget these things, Lawrence could ask her whatever he wished, and she wouldn't feel used.
"So I truly need your cooperation," he said.
"Hmph. I was a stand-in for you once before, but that was to thank you for being kind to me. This time, there's no thanking."
It wasn't as thanks nor was it a favor given or received.
Then what was it?
Not money nor obligation.
All of Lawrence's relationships so far had been zero-sum; the amount given equaled the amount taken. If something was lent, he expected it returned, and if he was the borrower, he had to pay the debt. Even "friendly" relationships were changed by credit into ones of transaction.
Holo was different, an entirely new kind of relationship.
But just as Lawrence realized what the most suitable term for it was, Holo gave him a look that said unmistakably, "Stop what you're saying."
"So, is there aught else you're worried about?" she asked.
"Of course. I'm worried it may be a trap."
Holo giggled. "If your opponent has a scheme, counter it. The bigger their scheme..."
She had said the same thing just after they'd met and a shady young merchant had tried to bring Lawrence in on a deal.
"The bigger the scheme, the bigger the profit when you upset it."