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

Input:
Klass had to admit that even if he'd known it would be all right, he might well have been nonetheless terrified before that presence.
And even now, she looked very apologetic.
As he looked at her, he wondered when Holo had found the time to explain the plan to her.
He'd been the only one fighting in earnest ignorance.
"Heh-heh. Still, you were quite gallant. Was he not?" Holo squatted down, propped her elbows on her knees, and thrust the staff, grinning.
Aryes wiped the corners of her eyes and nodded. "I'm sorry I didn't...say anything...but..." As she talked, she started to cry again.
Klass found not a trace of anger within himself, and he took Aryes's hand. "It's okay, really. I'm just glad we're safe..."
"...All right." As she nodded, a few tears dropped to the ground, and Klass realized something that had been bothering him.
"Oh—"
"Hmm?"
"What about our pursuers?" Klass asked, raising his head.
"Pursuers?" Holo returned the question, then made a pained face as she realized her mistake.
"W-wait, don't tell me that was a lie, too—"
"Heh-heh-heh," Holo chuckled and swished her tail.
When he looked at Aryes, he saw she was again wearing an apologetic look on her face.
He relaxed his neck and let his head fall back down to the floor, unconcerned with the thunk it made.
"Now then, we can't very well stay in this den forever—we must go out. There lies holy forest ground the likes of which few humans will ever see." Holo stood and cracked her neck.
"Holy...forest ground?"
"Aye. It's quite a sight, is it not?" These words were directed at Aryes, who nodded firmly.
It had to be something to see.
"The sun's been long up. Let us go and bask—your warrior tale will make a fine appetizer when considering what to do next. After all,"—Holo put her hand on her hip and flicked her tail—"the three of us have a journey ahead of us."
She grinned and walked off.
He could hardly be disappointed that she was safe.
And yet he couldn't help but wonder if she would play a trick like this on him again.
In any case, he wanted to see the holy forest ground.
What was so special about it, he wondered.
"So, this holy ground—was it really so great?" he asked Aryes as she helped him sit up, which she thought about for a moment, then nodded.
"I suppose..." She seemed to be seriously considering it, which lessened the joke. "Still...," she said, looking Klass straight in the eye.
His heart thumped painfully and not from any of his injuries.
And now he knew why.
"I'd rather visit the sea."
At this, Klass could no longer resist the smile that split his face.
Forgetting the pain it caused, he grinned and nodded.
Aryes then looked past Klass to something behind him. He got the feeling that whoever was there was looking at him and nodding, but he didn't care.
Someone rather clever and nosy had probably told Aryes to say it, but he was sure her words weren't a lie.
He'd found within himself the strength to believe that.
"Well, shall we go?" Klass took Aryes's hand and stood.
Just as he turned around, he saw Holo's tail flick and disappear into shadow.
That soft, silky, sweet-smelling tail. He thought about getting Holo to let him sleep upon it one more time by way of apology for overdoing her tricks.
It was so comforting, he felt it would be a fair trade.
He looked back over his shoulder as he thought about it.
"Hmm?" Aryes asked. He was surprised. Had he accidentally said it out loud? Not replying, he started walking.
Out of the den's opening, he went out into the light, holding Aryes's hand.
He thought about the saying "He who chases two rabbits catches neither."
But he had a wolf on one side and a sheep on the other, so...
"Shall I guess what you are thinking?" said a reproachful voice from behind him.
He was too scared to turn around.
There before him in a sunlit garden too beautiful for any painting, Holo basked in the rays of light, holding herself as she shook with mirth.
End.
***
Realizing it had suddenly become quiet, Lawrence looked up.

Output:
So why had it suddenly turned so quiet? He put a bundle of sheepskins that his eyes lit upon in order, then cracked his neck.
A girl on the bed wiped her mouth. Perhaps that was the cause.
"So you were eating all along...? How many did you have?"
The girl, Holo, who had beautiful chestnut hair that would be the envy of any noblewoman, flicked her wolf ears, then counted on her fingers. "Ten and...seven. No, nine."
"And what's left?"
This time she flicked her tail, a tail that would've caused any furrier to drool with envy.
The gesture made her seem like a scolded puppy.
"...E-eight..."
"Eight?"
"Eighty...one."
Lawrence sighed, and Holo's expression shifted completely; she glared at him. "You're going to ask me if I'm going to eat them all."
"I haven't said anything yet."
"So what was to follow that sigh, eh?"
After a short pause, Lawrence answered. "Can you eat them all?"
Letting Holo's glare wash over him, Lawrence returned his attention to the bundle of sheepskins before him, trying to tie it up with some twine before remembering that he couldn't use his left hand.
This was because in some recent unpleasantness, he'd blundered into getting stabbed.
Nevertheless, the disturbance had had the effect of creating a new and priceless bond between him and Holo, whom he'd happened to meet earlier in his travels.
When he thought about it like that, it was cheap indeed, he reminded himself, standing up from a chair.
There was a pile of wooden crates filled with apples in the corner of the room. The bill was for 120 apples, but—including today's count—thirty-nine had been eaten.
Even if they were her favorite food, eating them all before they spoiled would be no mean feat.
"You don't have to be so stubborn," said Lawrence.
"I'm not being stubborn."
"Really?"
Holo turned away sullenly, every bit as childish as her appearance would lead one to expect, even though she'd lived scores of years longer than Lawrence and was a centuries-old wolf spirit who dwelled in wheat and could yield whatever harvest she saw fit.
But she remained that way for only a moment, finally laying her wolf ears back in defeat. "...The truth is...I'm a bit full of them..."
Knowing he'd rouse her anger if he laughed at her, Lawrence merely agreed. "I'll bet. Even if they're your favorite food, that's a lot of apples."
"Still—"
"Hmm?"
"Still, I swear I'll eat them all."
Unlike when she'd given him that angry glare, she said this with what seemed like grim determination.
Lawrence was briefly surprised at this sudden change but soon realized Holo's position.
Holo had used Lawrence's name without his consent to order 120 apples, a fruit that was by no means inexpensive.
But she hadn't done it just for her own gluttonous purposes.
As strange as it sounded, Holo needed to waste a large amount of Lawrence's money in order for them to continue their travels.
Holo had originally been bound to a village that grew wheat, but had asked Lawrence to take her to her homeland in the north country—thus their journey had begun.
But it is the way of the world that plans made for simple reasons do not proceed simply.
Lawrence was not at all angry at Holo for buying the apples. Quite the contrary, and it wasn't just apples; she'd also bought some rather expensive clothes, but he had wished for her to do exactly that.
However, though they did understand each other on this count, Holo still seemed to feel some sense of responsibility for having gone and advanced a contract.
Lawrence was not some nobleman's prodigal son; he was a hardworking traveling merchant.
She was surely entirely aware of that.
Holo was a self-proclaimed wisewolf, after all.
She was also a wolf who cared so much about him he wanted to laugh.
"You needn't get so worked up about it," said Lawrence, picking up an apple. "Even if you tire of eating them raw, there are many ways to eat an apple."
He took a bite of the fruit, which was so ripe it seemed near bursting, but stopped at Holo's gaze.


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

Input:
So why had it suddenly turned so quiet? He put a bundle of sheepskins that his eyes lit upon in order, then cracked his neck.
A girl on the bed wiped her mouth. Perhaps that was the cause.
"So you were eating all along...? How many did you have?"
The girl, Holo, who had beautiful chestnut hair that would be the envy of any noblewoman, flicked her wolf ears, then counted on her fingers. "Ten and...seven. No, nine."
"And what's left?"
This time she flicked her tail, a tail that would've caused any furrier to drool with envy.
The gesture made her seem like a scolded puppy.
"...E-eight..."
"Eight?"
"Eighty...one."
Lawrence sighed, and Holo's expression shifted completely; she glared at him. "You're going to ask me if I'm going to eat them all."
"I haven't said anything yet."
"So what was to follow that sigh, eh?"
After a short pause, Lawrence answered. "Can you eat them all?"
Letting Holo's glare wash over him, Lawrence returned his attention to the bundle of sheepskins before him, trying to tie it up with some twine before remembering that he couldn't use his left hand.
This was because in some recent unpleasantness, he'd blundered into getting stabbed.
Nevertheless, the disturbance had had the effect of creating a new and priceless bond between him and Holo, whom he'd happened to meet earlier in his travels.
When he thought about it like that, it was cheap indeed, he reminded himself, standing up from a chair.
There was a pile of wooden crates filled with apples in the corner of the room. The bill was for 120 apples, but—including today's count—thirty-nine had been eaten.
Even if they were her favorite food, eating them all before they spoiled would be no mean feat.
"You don't have to be so stubborn," said Lawrence.
"I'm not being stubborn."
"Really?"
Holo turned away sullenly, every bit as childish as her appearance would lead one to expect, even though she'd lived scores of years longer than Lawrence and was a centuries-old wolf spirit who dwelled in wheat and could yield whatever harvest she saw fit.
But she remained that way for only a moment, finally laying her wolf ears back in defeat. "...The truth is...I'm a bit full of them..."
Knowing he'd rouse her anger if he laughed at her, Lawrence merely agreed. "I'll bet. Even if they're your favorite food, that's a lot of apples."
"Still—"
"Hmm?"
"Still, I swear I'll eat them all."
Unlike when she'd given him that angry glare, she said this with what seemed like grim determination.
Lawrence was briefly surprised at this sudden change but soon realized Holo's position.
Holo had used Lawrence's name without his consent to order 120 apples, a fruit that was by no means inexpensive.
But she hadn't done it just for her own gluttonous purposes.
As strange as it sounded, Holo needed to waste a large amount of Lawrence's money in order for them to continue their travels.
Holo had originally been bound to a village that grew wheat, but had asked Lawrence to take her to her homeland in the north country—thus their journey had begun.
But it is the way of the world that plans made for simple reasons do not proceed simply.
Lawrence was not at all angry at Holo for buying the apples. Quite the contrary, and it wasn't just apples; she'd also bought some rather expensive clothes, but he had wished for her to do exactly that.
However, though they did understand each other on this count, Holo still seemed to feel some sense of responsibility for having gone and advanced a contract.
Lawrence was not some nobleman's prodigal son; he was a hardworking traveling merchant.
She was surely entirely aware of that.
Holo was a self-proclaimed wisewolf, after all.
She was also a wolf who cared so much about him he wanted to laugh.
"You needn't get so worked up about it," said Lawrence, picking up an apple. "Even if you tire of eating them raw, there are many ways to eat an apple."
He took a bite of the fruit, which was so ripe it seemed near bursting, but stopped at Holo's gaze.

Output:
"If you bring yourself to ruin, apples will be the cause, I tell you." He grinned and tossed the apple to her, which she caught with a displeased face.
"So, tell me of these 'other ways' to eat them."
"Hmm, well, you could bake them."
Holo moved her face away from the apple he'd bitten into, and after scrutinizing it, she looked at Lawrence. "You'd best prepare for the consequences if you're making sport of me."
"Can't your ears always tell lies from truth?"
At these words her ears twitched as if flicked, and she grumbled, "Baking apples...I've never heard of the like."
"Ha-ha, I suppose not. It's not as though one roasts them on a spit over an open flame. It's more like bread baked in an oven."
"Hmph."
Evidently she had trouble understanding this, even once it was explained. She cocked her head as she chewed the apple.
"So you've never had apple pie, then?"
At this question, too, she shook her head.
"Hmm. I suppose it would be quickest to just show it to you. When you bake apples, they turn soft—it's a bad example, but they're almost as soft baked as they are when rotten."
"Mmph."
"But just as something on the verge of spoiling can be tasty, baked apples are amazing. You know how a raw apple is good for a parched throat? Baked apples are so sweet you actually get thirsty."
"I...see," she said, feigning an even tone, but her tail was busily wagging to and fro.
While her clever mind and quick tongue were always making fun of Lawrence, when it came to food, Holo had a distinct weakness.
And no matter what her mouth said, her ears and tail always showed her true feelings.
"Anyway, they're good apples to begin with, so they'll be good no matter how you prepare them. Though you'll tire of sweetness, too, won't you?"
Holo's tail suddenly stopped.
"Salted meat or salted fish—which do you prefer?"
Her answer came instantly. "Meat!"
"So, for dinner—" Lawrence started but was cut off when his eyes met Holo's as she jumped off the bed and cheerfully threw on her robe. "What, you intend to go right now?"
"Aren't we?"
Giving up on trying to figure out where inside that small body of hers all those apples were fitting, he did recall that her true form was a wolf big enough to eat him in one bite.
He didn't want to think about it, but perhaps her stomach stayed as big as it was when she was a wolf.
"...So I'll ask you again, do you think you can eat all those apples?"
"After hearing you, I've made up my mind to do it. You needn't worry." Quickly fixing her robe about her with a sash, she spun about and was ready in a flash.
Not much time had passed since midday, but Lawrence quietly gave up.
Persuading her otherwise would be impossible, he was quite sure.
"I suppose I have business, so why not? Let's go."
"Right!" Holo nodded, smiling, every bit as carefree as the young girl she looked like.
Lawrence had been a traveling merchant for seven years, since his eighteenth birthday, and still could not find any words to argue with her when she smiled at him like that.
Such thoughts occupied him he watched her impatiently flounce out the door, leaving behind the echo of her smile, sweeter than any apple.
Still, if she found that out, she'd only use it to tease him.
Lawrence cleared his throat and prepared himself to go out, but as he went to follow Holo, his feet suddenly stopped short.
Holo looked happily at him through the open door.
"You should smile like that more; 'tis nice."
They may well have been setting out to wash away the taste of apples, but she truly was malicious.
As he followed her out of the room, Lawrence spoke to the cheeky little wolf. "You're really rather unpalatable, you know."
Holo looked over one shoulder. "Am I to claim deliciousness, then?" she said, feigning irritation.
Lawrence's shoulders went slack, signaling his defeat, at which Holo snickered audibly.
Situated on the Slaude River, the port town of Pazzio was always crowded.


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

Input:
"If you bring yourself to ruin, apples will be the cause, I tell you." He grinned and tossed the apple to her, which she caught with a displeased face.
"So, tell me of these 'other ways' to eat them."
"Hmm, well, you could bake them."
Holo moved her face away from the apple he'd bitten into, and after scrutinizing it, she looked at Lawrence. "You'd best prepare for the consequences if you're making sport of me."
"Can't your ears always tell lies from truth?"
At these words her ears twitched as if flicked, and she grumbled, "Baking apples...I've never heard of the like."
"Ha-ha, I suppose not. It's not as though one roasts them on a spit over an open flame. It's more like bread baked in an oven."
"Hmph."
Evidently she had trouble understanding this, even once it was explained. She cocked her head as she chewed the apple.
"So you've never had apple pie, then?"
At this question, too, she shook her head.
"Hmm. I suppose it would be quickest to just show it to you. When you bake apples, they turn soft—it's a bad example, but they're almost as soft baked as they are when rotten."
"Mmph."
"But just as something on the verge of spoiling can be tasty, baked apples are amazing. You know how a raw apple is good for a parched throat? Baked apples are so sweet you actually get thirsty."
"I...see," she said, feigning an even tone, but her tail was busily wagging to and fro.
While her clever mind and quick tongue were always making fun of Lawrence, when it came to food, Holo had a distinct weakness.
And no matter what her mouth said, her ears and tail always showed her true feelings.
"Anyway, they're good apples to begin with, so they'll be good no matter how you prepare them. Though you'll tire of sweetness, too, won't you?"
Holo's tail suddenly stopped.
"Salted meat or salted fish—which do you prefer?"
Her answer came instantly. "Meat!"
"So, for dinner—" Lawrence started but was cut off when his eyes met Holo's as she jumped off the bed and cheerfully threw on her robe. "What, you intend to go right now?"
"Aren't we?"
Giving up on trying to figure out where inside that small body of hers all those apples were fitting, he did recall that her true form was a wolf big enough to eat him in one bite.
He didn't want to think about it, but perhaps her stomach stayed as big as it was when she was a wolf.
"...So I'll ask you again, do you think you can eat all those apples?"
"After hearing you, I've made up my mind to do it. You needn't worry." Quickly fixing her robe about her with a sash, she spun about and was ready in a flash.
Not much time had passed since midday, but Lawrence quietly gave up.
Persuading her otherwise would be impossible, he was quite sure.
"I suppose I have business, so why not? Let's go."
"Right!" Holo nodded, smiling, every bit as carefree as the young girl she looked like.
Lawrence had been a traveling merchant for seven years, since his eighteenth birthday, and still could not find any words to argue with her when she smiled at him like that.
Such thoughts occupied him he watched her impatiently flounce out the door, leaving behind the echo of her smile, sweeter than any apple.
Still, if she found that out, she'd only use it to tease him.
Lawrence cleared his throat and prepared himself to go out, but as he went to follow Holo, his feet suddenly stopped short.
Holo looked happily at him through the open door.
"You should smile like that more; 'tis nice."
They may well have been setting out to wash away the taste of apples, but she truly was malicious.
As he followed her out of the room, Lawrence spoke to the cheeky little wolf. "You're really rather unpalatable, you know."
Holo looked over one shoulder. "Am I to claim deliciousness, then?" she said, feigning irritation.
Lawrence's shoulders went slack, signaling his defeat, at which Holo snickered audibly.
Situated on the Slaude River, the port town of Pazzio was always crowded.

Output:
Farmers leading livestock, traveling merchants hauling their wares, tidily dressed servant children running errands, and confused-looking monks on their first visit in ages to a bustling town—all were in evidence.
It was said that wherever three roads converged, a city would grow—and there were many, many streets in the town, outnumbered only by the kinds of people that trod them.
But none among them imagined that one of the visitors to the town was not a person at all.
"Far from it," Lawrence said. "You look every bit the nun."
"Mm?" Holo looked back at Lawrence talking to himself, her mouth full. Despite having eaten so many apples, one look at the raisin stand was all it took for her to start begging like a pauper.
"I was saying I don't want to think about how much your food bill is running."
"Humph. Is there some inconvenience with my looking like a nun?" Holo couldn't hide her malicious pleasure at proving to Lawrence she'd heard exactly what he said.
"Far from it; it makes travel all the more convenient."
"Hmm. To be able to so easily change so much by simply choosing clothes—the human world surely is a strange one."
"I'm sure wolves would find something convenient in wearing sheepskins, if they could manage it."
Holo thought for a moment, then grinned. "Aye, and if I wore a rabbit skin, you'd happily walk right into any trap."
"So for you, I'll bait my trap with apples."
Lawrence had to laugh at the sight of Holo trying to sneer with her cheeks stuffed with raisins.
This was a pleasure no lone merchant could enjoy, whose conversation was either for business or to himself.
"Anyway, it's not without inconveniences, especially in your case."
Seeming to realize from his tone that he'd turned serious, Holo looked up again, this time without poking fun, as she walked beside him.
"There are all sorts of problems with a nun drinking wine in the middle of the day. Most taverns will overlook it, but you could stand to consider such things a bit more."
"Mm. 'Tis like drinking on a rickety bridge that could fall at any moment."
Lawrence found himself impressed that she'd come up with such an apt example so quickly.
"Also, different towns have different circumstances. Especially as we head north, there may be places where a nun would be a very bad disguise, indeed."
"What shall I do then?"
"It would be safest to have a change of clothes that would make you look like a town girl."
Holo nodded politely, then popped the rest of the raisins into her mouth. "In that case, can we not buy them before dinner? Anything that lessens our safety will make the food taste worse."
"I'm glad you understand. There's no time to waste convincing you."
"What, did you think I would insist on food and wine first? I'm not so blinded by gluttony as that."
Lawrence shrugged as if to say, "Aren't you?" Holo licked her fingers, unamused.
"Humph. You're trying to take care of me. I've got to take advantage of that, haven't I?" said Holo quietly, looking at the street ahead instead of at Lawrence. She then smiled slightly and sighed. "That's quite a grand excuse to buy new clothes. Did you think I wouldn't notice?"
Lawrence put his hand to his mouth but not to stop an exclamation of surprise from slipping through—no, it was because he felt a bit embarrassed.
"Heh. Ah, well, if you're buying me some new things, I'm happy to impose on you. The cold winter awaits, after all."
"You could impose a bit less."
Holo smiled like a child telling a joke, entwining her fingers around Lawrence's right hand.
She was concerned about his coin purse in her own Holoish way. Though if it came down to this, having one's purse pitied was humiliating in its own way for a man.
The wisewolf seemed to have long since understood the conflict within him.
He didn't have near enough wisdom to outthink Holo.
"'Tis cold. My hand will freeze."
Lawrence did not, of course, believe a word of that.
"Yes, it certainly is cold."
"Aye."


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

Input:
Farmers leading livestock, traveling merchants hauling their wares, tidily dressed servant children running errands, and confused-looking monks on their first visit in ages to a bustling town—all were in evidence.
It was said that wherever three roads converged, a city would grow—and there were many, many streets in the town, outnumbered only by the kinds of people that trod them.
But none among them imagined that one of the visitors to the town was not a person at all.
"Far from it," Lawrence said. "You look every bit the nun."
"Mm?" Holo looked back at Lawrence talking to himself, her mouth full. Despite having eaten so many apples, one look at the raisin stand was all it took for her to start begging like a pauper.
"I was saying I don't want to think about how much your food bill is running."
"Humph. Is there some inconvenience with my looking like a nun?" Holo couldn't hide her malicious pleasure at proving to Lawrence she'd heard exactly what he said.
"Far from it; it makes travel all the more convenient."
"Hmm. To be able to so easily change so much by simply choosing clothes—the human world surely is a strange one."
"I'm sure wolves would find something convenient in wearing sheepskins, if they could manage it."
Holo thought for a moment, then grinned. "Aye, and if I wore a rabbit skin, you'd happily walk right into any trap."
"So for you, I'll bait my trap with apples."
Lawrence had to laugh at the sight of Holo trying to sneer with her cheeks stuffed with raisins.
This was a pleasure no lone merchant could enjoy, whose conversation was either for business or to himself.
"Anyway, it's not without inconveniences, especially in your case."
Seeming to realize from his tone that he'd turned serious, Holo looked up again, this time without poking fun, as she walked beside him.
"There are all sorts of problems with a nun drinking wine in the middle of the day. Most taverns will overlook it, but you could stand to consider such things a bit more."
"Mm. 'Tis like drinking on a rickety bridge that could fall at any moment."
Lawrence found himself impressed that she'd come up with such an apt example so quickly.
"Also, different towns have different circumstances. Especially as we head north, there may be places where a nun would be a very bad disguise, indeed."
"What shall I do then?"
"It would be safest to have a change of clothes that would make you look like a town girl."
Holo nodded politely, then popped the rest of the raisins into her mouth. "In that case, can we not buy them before dinner? Anything that lessens our safety will make the food taste worse."
"I'm glad you understand. There's no time to waste convincing you."
"What, did you think I would insist on food and wine first? I'm not so blinded by gluttony as that."
Lawrence shrugged as if to say, "Aren't you?" Holo licked her fingers, unamused.
"Humph. You're trying to take care of me. I've got to take advantage of that, haven't I?" said Holo quietly, looking at the street ahead instead of at Lawrence. She then smiled slightly and sighed. "That's quite a grand excuse to buy new clothes. Did you think I wouldn't notice?"
Lawrence put his hand to his mouth but not to stop an exclamation of surprise from slipping through—no, it was because he felt a bit embarrassed.
"Heh. Ah, well, if you're buying me some new things, I'm happy to impose on you. The cold winter awaits, after all."
"You could impose a bit less."
Holo smiled like a child telling a joke, entwining her fingers around Lawrence's right hand.
She was concerned about his coin purse in her own Holoish way. Though if it came down to this, having one's purse pitied was humiliating in its own way for a man.
The wisewolf seemed to have long since understood the conflict within him.
He didn't have near enough wisdom to outthink Holo.
"'Tis cold. My hand will freeze."
Lawrence did not, of course, believe a word of that.
"Yes, it certainly is cold."
"Aye."

Output:
Walking down the crowded street, they were the only two who understood the meaning hidden there.
That was enough to make him feel even better than he had when he'd finished his big trade and had a purse full of coins with laurel-topped queens' heads on them.
"Yeah."
But as he thought about it, Lawrence realized something that brought him out of his reverie and back to the crowded reality of the street.
"What is the matter?"
"I've...no money."
Holo looked blank for a moment, then gave him a look that went past irritation right on into pure disdain.
Whatever she might say, in this regard she was no different from a regular town girl.
If one didn't buy a town girl what one had promised her, her tenacity would be deeper than any merchant's.
That was one thing Lawrence had learned in his seven years of experience.
"However, for the sake of my honor, I must explain that when I say, 'I have no money,' I don't mean what you think I mean."
"Huh?"
"I mean I've got no small change." As he spoke, Lawrence felt for his coin purse but realized he couldn't use his left arm.
It was unfortunate, but he casually let go of Holo's hand. "Yup, none," he said upon examining the pouch's contents.
"They say too big is better than too small. 'Tis not as though you've no money at all."
"They also say not to kill a fly with a sledgehammer. Didn't you say the same thing to me when buying bread?"
"Mph. So we'll need change, then."
"We'll have to exchange it. If we gave gold coins to the tailor, there's no telling what kind of a terrible face he'd make."
"Mm...still—" said Holo as Lawrence closed his coin purse and replaced it at his waist. "Are gold coins really so very valuable?"
"Huh? They certainly are. The lumione coins in my purse now are trading for around thirty-five pieces of trenni silver. If you don't stay at an inn and don't drink any wine, you can live for a week on a single trenni. So think about thirty-five times that."
"...That's quite something, indeed. So why would a tailor be bothered to get one in payment?" Holo said. Lawrence looked at her and could guess what she was going to ask next. "Unlike apples, a gold coin might buy only one or two pieces of clothing. I was told these clothes cost two gold pieces."
When noble houses were attacked by rioting commoners, Lawrence had heard that it was often a trivial statement that was the trigger. He grimaced, wondering if what Holo had just said was a good example of that kind of statement.
"If all clothing cost that much, the greater part of the townsfolk would be walking around totally naked."
Writing an IOU for a robe that cost two gold pieces, there was no doubt that the clothier would be wondering whether he was actually going to get paid or not—so much so that it was strange that a contract hadn't been signed in front of a public witness.
And it hadn't just been two pieces of clothing—there'd been a silk sash, too.
But the clothier hadn't thought it was some sort of childish prank, probably because Holo seemed like the private nun of some wealthy nobleman somewhere.
"Hmm...this was so costly, was it?" Holo looked down and fingered the robe she wore.
"That's right. So from now on, let's keep our purchases to the poorer stuff."
At this Holo looked up, her lip twisted, looking like her fun had been spoiled. "I'm Holo, the Wisewolf of Yoitsu. 'Twill wound my reputation to wear poor clothes."
Lawrence drew his chin in as his words stuck in his throat; his mind spun as he searched for a good response but could find none.
Holo struck his right arm like a child having a temper tantrum.
"Still, money changing..." He put thoughts of Holo aside and considered the matter with a sigh.
There would be a fee involved in changing gold coins to silver, and something about him was never too pleased with letting go of gold.
He'd been laughed at for this, told that merchants saved money because they were in love with gold, but for Lawrence's part, he didn't think of it as a joke.


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

Input:
Walking down the crowded street, they were the only two who understood the meaning hidden there.
That was enough to make him feel even better than he had when he'd finished his big trade and had a purse full of coins with laurel-topped queens' heads on them.
"Yeah."
But as he thought about it, Lawrence realized something that brought him out of his reverie and back to the crowded reality of the street.
"What is the matter?"
"I've...no money."
Holo looked blank for a moment, then gave him a look that went past irritation right on into pure disdain.
Whatever she might say, in this regard she was no different from a regular town girl.
If one didn't buy a town girl what one had promised her, her tenacity would be deeper than any merchant's.
That was one thing Lawrence had learned in his seven years of experience.
"However, for the sake of my honor, I must explain that when I say, 'I have no money,' I don't mean what you think I mean."
"Huh?"
"I mean I've got no small change." As he spoke, Lawrence felt for his coin purse but realized he couldn't use his left arm.
It was unfortunate, but he casually let go of Holo's hand. "Yup, none," he said upon examining the pouch's contents.
"They say too big is better than too small. 'Tis not as though you've no money at all."
"They also say not to kill a fly with a sledgehammer. Didn't you say the same thing to me when buying bread?"
"Mph. So we'll need change, then."
"We'll have to exchange it. If we gave gold coins to the tailor, there's no telling what kind of a terrible face he'd make."
"Mm...still—" said Holo as Lawrence closed his coin purse and replaced it at his waist. "Are gold coins really so very valuable?"
"Huh? They certainly are. The lumione coins in my purse now are trading for around thirty-five pieces of trenni silver. If you don't stay at an inn and don't drink any wine, you can live for a week on a single trenni. So think about thirty-five times that."
"...That's quite something, indeed. So why would a tailor be bothered to get one in payment?" Holo said. Lawrence looked at her and could guess what she was going to ask next. "Unlike apples, a gold coin might buy only one or two pieces of clothing. I was told these clothes cost two gold pieces."
When noble houses were attacked by rioting commoners, Lawrence had heard that it was often a trivial statement that was the trigger. He grimaced, wondering if what Holo had just said was a good example of that kind of statement.
"If all clothing cost that much, the greater part of the townsfolk would be walking around totally naked."
Writing an IOU for a robe that cost two gold pieces, there was no doubt that the clothier would be wondering whether he was actually going to get paid or not—so much so that it was strange that a contract hadn't been signed in front of a public witness.
And it hadn't just been two pieces of clothing—there'd been a silk sash, too.
But the clothier hadn't thought it was some sort of childish prank, probably because Holo seemed like the private nun of some wealthy nobleman somewhere.
"Hmm...this was so costly, was it?" Holo looked down and fingered the robe she wore.
"That's right. So from now on, let's keep our purchases to the poorer stuff."
At this Holo looked up, her lip twisted, looking like her fun had been spoiled. "I'm Holo, the Wisewolf of Yoitsu. 'Twill wound my reputation to wear poor clothes."
Lawrence drew his chin in as his words stuck in his throat; his mind spun as he searched for a good response but could find none.
Holo struck his right arm like a child having a temper tantrum.
"Still, money changing..." He put thoughts of Holo aside and considered the matter with a sigh.
There would be a fee involved in changing gold coins to silver, and something about him was never too pleased with letting go of gold.
He'd been laughed at for this, told that merchants saved money because they were in love with gold, but for Lawrence's part, he didn't think of it as a joke.

Output:
When exchanging coins in a town, it was his routine to go to a cambist he knew, because seeing a money changer for the first time, they'd always swindle him and take him for a loss. What was worse, this was viewed as a sort of tax, so he couldn't even complain about it. "If you don't like it, you better get to know us better," was the standard line from cambists on the subject.
Of course, Lawrence had a preferred cambist and was not too worried about this.
He had a different problem.
Which was that his cambist was a notorious womanizer and had become instantly taken with Holo.
Worse, Holo seemed to enjoy this.
On top of that, she also seemed to enjoy how pathetic this made Lawrence feel.
If he could avoid it, he didn't want to bring Holo along to see the money changer.
"Money changing, eh? That means...oh ho." The clever Holo realized who they'd be seeing and grinned. "Well, then, you'd better make the arrangements. I want to be drinking wine sooner rather than later."
Holo pulled on his hand, heading for the lively avenue.
Lawrence sighed the way he always did before any deal, cursing the mean-spiritedness of the owner of the soft hand that held his.
"For one lumione, today's rate is thirty-four trenni."
"And the fee?"
"Ten silver lute or thirty copper trie."
"I'll pay in lute."
"Very good, then. Right here, then...Oh, please do take care. Anything you drop on the street becomes the property of he who picks it up," said the money changer, politely placing the silver coins in Holo's hand, then covering them with his, as though he'd given them to a child.
Lawrence offered a single lumione coin, but the cambist did not let go of her hand.
In fact, he wasn't looking at Lawrence at all.
"Weiz."
At the sound of his name, the man finally looked over. "What?"
"I'm your customer."
Lawrence had been using Weiz as his cambist for a long time, owing to them both knowing his master. Weiz sighed dramatically and gestured to his table with his chin. "Just leave the gold there. I'm busy right now."
"And what is it you're busy with?"
"Can't you tell? I'm right in the middle of making sure this lovely maiden doesn't drop her silver." Weiz smiled at Holo, having still not let go of her hand.
Holo, for her part, acted more bashful than Lawrence had realized she was capable of and now lowered her gaze, seemingly pleased.
Both Weiz and Holo were acting ridiculously, and as the only serious one, Lawrence was left entirely out of the play.
"But, sir—" said Holo finally, which Weiz's face tensed at, and he straightened his posture like a knight. "There seems to be too much silver for my hands to hold."
Weiz answered before Lawrence could get a word in. "My dear Miss Holo, that is why you have my hands as well."
Holo looked surprised, then spoke as though very sad. "I could not possibly impose such a weight upon you."
Weiz shook his head and continued. "If silver overflows from your hand, then I will gladly lend you mine. It would not trouble me in the slightest—because, my dear, I am sure that you, Miss Holo, will accept my feelings in turn, feelings so passionate I cannot hold them in both arms."
Holo averted her eyes like the blushing daughter of some nobleman while Weiz gazed steadily at her face.
The exchange was so teeth-grittingly saccharine it made Lawrence want to slap them both.
The whole thing was a cliché, of course, but it was also so perfectly done that it made Lawrence wonder if they'd somehow arranged it ahead of time.
He found the whole thing deeply unamusing.
It was time to throw cold water on it.
"Silver coins for the coin purse, gold for the box, and plain copper in hand—or have you forgotten that proverb, Weiz?" It was the most basic principle of handling money, the first thing that any cambist's apprentice learned from his master.
Weiz's fun was thoroughly spoiled.


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

Input:
When exchanging coins in a town, it was his routine to go to a cambist he knew, because seeing a money changer for the first time, they'd always swindle him and take him for a loss. What was worse, this was viewed as a sort of tax, so he couldn't even complain about it. "If you don't like it, you better get to know us better," was the standard line from cambists on the subject.
Of course, Lawrence had a preferred cambist and was not too worried about this.
He had a different problem.
Which was that his cambist was a notorious womanizer and had become instantly taken with Holo.
Worse, Holo seemed to enjoy this.
On top of that, she also seemed to enjoy how pathetic this made Lawrence feel.
If he could avoid it, he didn't want to bring Holo along to see the money changer.
"Money changing, eh? That means...oh ho." The clever Holo realized who they'd be seeing and grinned. "Well, then, you'd better make the arrangements. I want to be drinking wine sooner rather than later."
Holo pulled on his hand, heading for the lively avenue.
Lawrence sighed the way he always did before any deal, cursing the mean-spiritedness of the owner of the soft hand that held his.
"For one lumione, today's rate is thirty-four trenni."
"And the fee?"
"Ten silver lute or thirty copper trie."
"I'll pay in lute."
"Very good, then. Right here, then...Oh, please do take care. Anything you drop on the street becomes the property of he who picks it up," said the money changer, politely placing the silver coins in Holo's hand, then covering them with his, as though he'd given them to a child.
Lawrence offered a single lumione coin, but the cambist did not let go of her hand.
In fact, he wasn't looking at Lawrence at all.
"Weiz."
At the sound of his name, the man finally looked over. "What?"
"I'm your customer."
Lawrence had been using Weiz as his cambist for a long time, owing to them both knowing his master. Weiz sighed dramatically and gestured to his table with his chin. "Just leave the gold there. I'm busy right now."
"And what is it you're busy with?"
"Can't you tell? I'm right in the middle of making sure this lovely maiden doesn't drop her silver." Weiz smiled at Holo, having still not let go of her hand.
Holo, for her part, acted more bashful than Lawrence had realized she was capable of and now lowered her gaze, seemingly pleased.
Both Weiz and Holo were acting ridiculously, and as the only serious one, Lawrence was left entirely out of the play.
"But, sir—" said Holo finally, which Weiz's face tensed at, and he straightened his posture like a knight. "There seems to be too much silver for my hands to hold."
Weiz answered before Lawrence could get a word in. "My dear Miss Holo, that is why you have my hands as well."
Holo looked surprised, then spoke as though very sad. "I could not possibly impose such a weight upon you."
Weiz shook his head and continued. "If silver overflows from your hand, then I will gladly lend you mine. It would not trouble me in the slightest—because, my dear, I am sure that you, Miss Holo, will accept my feelings in turn, feelings so passionate I cannot hold them in both arms."
Holo averted her eyes like the blushing daughter of some nobleman while Weiz gazed steadily at her face.
The exchange was so teeth-grittingly saccharine it made Lawrence want to slap them both.
The whole thing was a cliché, of course, but it was also so perfectly done that it made Lawrence wonder if they'd somehow arranged it ahead of time.
He found the whole thing deeply unamusing.
It was time to throw cold water on it.
"Silver coins for the coin purse, gold for the box, and plain copper in hand—or have you forgotten that proverb, Weiz?" It was the most basic principle of handling money, the first thing that any cambist's apprentice learned from his master.
Weiz's fun was thoroughly spoiled.

Output:
"You want me to share?" asked Lawrence, opening his leather purse and filling it with the silver coins in Holo's hand. She was smiling faintly but gave Lawrence an expressionless glance.
"There's no lending at the cambist's table. Only exchange or no exchange," said Lawrence with a smile to the serious-faced Weiz, placing the last silver coin in his pouch. "She comes with the debt she owes me. Do you mind?"
"Hmph," said Weiz, pulling his chin in.
He seemed a bit regretful now that talk of money had returned.
Still, Weiz was accustomed to that. He soon assumed a sad expression and looked at Holo. "I cannot possibly put a price upon you."
A laugh escaped Holo, but she still switched into her performance before replying, "I'm afraid the scales within my heart are still swinging. But I'm sure they will not simply tilt under the weight of gold..."
"Oh, but of course."
Weiz tried to take Holo's hands again, and she pulled them away. "To put your hands upon a swinging scale...sir, you truly are a scoundrel," Holo said to Weiz like a barmaid scolding a drunken customer, which flustered him so much Lawrence couldn't see him as the same man.
Swearing that he'd never let that happen to him, Lawrence sighed and lowered the curtain on this third-rate comedy.
"Come, let's be off."
"Oh, hey, Lawrence—"
"Hmm?"
"So if you came all the way out to change money, are you doing some kind of shopping?"
"Yes, we're heading north, so I'm getting clothes and such."
Weiz rolled his eyes up briefly. "S-so, you're going soon, then?"
"Yes, probably...," said Lawrence, looking at Holo, who smiled happily.
He didn't have to be as good at seeing through people as Holo was to know what Weiz was thinking.
"Prices rise with the sun after all. I'd like to buy what I need before the day's out."
"Ugh..." Weiz looked like he was ready to close his business and run after them, but he surely had deals he couldn't abandon.
Feeling like he'd gotten even for being made to feel like a third wheel, Lawrence said, "Well, then," and turned to leave.
But Holo blocked his path. "Can money be exchanged after the sun sets?"
Suddenly, Weiz seized the chance to jump in. "The market's decided that cambists who use scales after the sun sets are all swindlers. And, of course, I'm no swindler."
"You heard him," said Holo to Lawrence.
He realized he wasn't going to be able to nurse his petty grudge forever. And he'd planned on inviting Weiz anyway.
Traveling merchants didn't have many town friends close enough to drink with in the evenings.
"Once we've bought our clothes, we'll be heading to the tavern. When you're done with work, you should come by if you're free."
"Of course, brother! The usual tavern?"
"I'd be scared to get drunk in a place I didn't know."
"Right, got it. I'll be there—I'll surely be there!"
These last words were directed mostly at Holo. The other cambists in the area paid him little mind, only glancing at him briefly as if to say, "What, again?" Even as Lawrence and Holo moved away from his stall, Weiz continued waving.
Perhaps enjoying the display, Holo waved right back until they were out of sight.
When she finally faced forward again, it was because they'd finished crossing the bridge where all the money changers' and goldsmiths' stalls were lined up roof to roof.
"Heh. I knew that would be amusing," said Holo, as though having drunk a particularly tasty wine.
Lawrence could only sigh at this. "If you toy with people too much, you'll regret it later."
"Regret?"
There were many jokes about beautiful nuns who went on pilgrimage only to return with more people than they'd left with.
"You'll be followed around."
"I'm already being followed around by you." When Lawrence faltered in reply, Holo grinned wickedly, showing both fangs. "Unlike you, he knows I'm playing with him. 'Tis amusing enough toying with you, but sometimes one longs for a cleverer male to play with."


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

Input:
"You want me to share?" asked Lawrence, opening his leather purse and filling it with the silver coins in Holo's hand. She was smiling faintly but gave Lawrence an expressionless glance.
"There's no lending at the cambist's table. Only exchange or no exchange," said Lawrence with a smile to the serious-faced Weiz, placing the last silver coin in his pouch. "She comes with the debt she owes me. Do you mind?"
"Hmph," said Weiz, pulling his chin in.
He seemed a bit regretful now that talk of money had returned.
Still, Weiz was accustomed to that. He soon assumed a sad expression and looked at Holo. "I cannot possibly put a price upon you."
A laugh escaped Holo, but she still switched into her performance before replying, "I'm afraid the scales within my heart are still swinging. But I'm sure they will not simply tilt under the weight of gold..."
"Oh, but of course."
Weiz tried to take Holo's hands again, and she pulled them away. "To put your hands upon a swinging scale...sir, you truly are a scoundrel," Holo said to Weiz like a barmaid scolding a drunken customer, which flustered him so much Lawrence couldn't see him as the same man.
Swearing that he'd never let that happen to him, Lawrence sighed and lowered the curtain on this third-rate comedy.
"Come, let's be off."
"Oh, hey, Lawrence—"
"Hmm?"
"So if you came all the way out to change money, are you doing some kind of shopping?"
"Yes, we're heading north, so I'm getting clothes and such."
Weiz rolled his eyes up briefly. "S-so, you're going soon, then?"
"Yes, probably...," said Lawrence, looking at Holo, who smiled happily.
He didn't have to be as good at seeing through people as Holo was to know what Weiz was thinking.
"Prices rise with the sun after all. I'd like to buy what I need before the day's out."
"Ugh..." Weiz looked like he was ready to close his business and run after them, but he surely had deals he couldn't abandon.
Feeling like he'd gotten even for being made to feel like a third wheel, Lawrence said, "Well, then," and turned to leave.
But Holo blocked his path. "Can money be exchanged after the sun sets?"
Suddenly, Weiz seized the chance to jump in. "The market's decided that cambists who use scales after the sun sets are all swindlers. And, of course, I'm no swindler."
"You heard him," said Holo to Lawrence.
He realized he wasn't going to be able to nurse his petty grudge forever. And he'd planned on inviting Weiz anyway.
Traveling merchants didn't have many town friends close enough to drink with in the evenings.
"Once we've bought our clothes, we'll be heading to the tavern. When you're done with work, you should come by if you're free."
"Of course, brother! The usual tavern?"
"I'd be scared to get drunk in a place I didn't know."
"Right, got it. I'll be there—I'll surely be there!"
These last words were directed mostly at Holo. The other cambists in the area paid him little mind, only glancing at him briefly as if to say, "What, again?" Even as Lawrence and Holo moved away from his stall, Weiz continued waving.
Perhaps enjoying the display, Holo waved right back until they were out of sight.
When she finally faced forward again, it was because they'd finished crossing the bridge where all the money changers' and goldsmiths' stalls were lined up roof to roof.
"Heh. I knew that would be amusing," said Holo, as though having drunk a particularly tasty wine.
Lawrence could only sigh at this. "If you toy with people too much, you'll regret it later."
"Regret?"
There were many jokes about beautiful nuns who went on pilgrimage only to return with more people than they'd left with.
"You'll be followed around."
"I'm already being followed around by you." When Lawrence faltered in reply, Holo grinned wickedly, showing both fangs. "Unlike you, he knows I'm playing with him. 'Tis amusing enough toying with you, but sometimes one longs for a cleverer male to play with."

Output:
He felt a renewed sense of shame at being so utterly hopeless at everything besides business.
"We both know 'tis mere play; do not be so serious. You're making me bashful now."
Holo deliberately placed her hand on his cheek, which Lawrence could only look sour about.
"'Tis well, though. Weiz has a cleverer tongue than you, but I've lived long enough to know that nothing is so untrustworthy as the words we say. Living in the world of trade as you do, surely you're not entirely unaware of that yourself."
A bit surprised at her sudden words, Lawrence saw that while Holo herself was smiling, her clear amber eyes were very serious indeed.
As the god of the wheat harvest, Holo had been kept in her village for a long time. Though the villagers sang her praises, they also hung an iron chain around her neck and did not let her leave. In the end, when they were done with her, their revenge would have been ruthless.
Considering that, Holo's words were heavy.
And yet the hand that so casually held his was warm.
"It's true. I'll tell any lie if it'll bring me a profit."
"They won't work on me, though."
Lawrence could tell her ears twitched proudly beneath her hood, and he couldn't help but smile. "So, shall we go buy some clothes?"
"Aye."
Lawrence wondered what sort of clothes would suit Holo and did his very best to make sure his musings weren't noticed.
Clothes of the sort Holo had bought previously—that cost a gold piece or two for a single item—were basically new goods.
However, few villagers actually wore new clothes.
Once a piece was finished, it was worn until holes began to wear through, and even then were sold again secondhand, repaired, and so on and so on. Merchants would buy used clothes originally made for wealthier merchants, and the used clothes of those middling merchants would then go to man-servants. Servants would sell their clothes to apprentice craftsmen, or donate them to traveling ascetic monks.
This cycle made it clear at a glance where people fit in the social hierarchy.
To be able to spend two gold pieces on newly made clothes was very impressive. Even Lawrence had only one item of tailored clothing, which had been torn in the disturbance with Holo some days earlier.
Did she know that, or didn't she?
Before a shop selling used goods quite a ways down on the cycle of clothing, Holo's face evidenced clear displeasure.
"Huh..." She let a vague sigh escape as she held a brown piece that had probably been dyed by boiling it with tree bark.
Of course, there was no way to tell whether it had just been stained so much that it had turned the color of whatever stains had failed to wash out. That was how beat-up it was.
"That one's forty lute. It's quite sturdy for the price, I must say." The shopkeeper nodded vaguely, and Holo finally put it back on the display table, taking three steps back from the stall.
It was surely meant to declare her lack of interest in any of the clothes here, but it was so like a noble girl that Lawrence had to grin.
"Sir, as we are going north, could you possibly choose some warmer items for the two of us? And not too expensive, please."
"And your budget?"
"Two trenni."
"Very well, sir."
The type of clothing being sold around this time of year was not for everyday use, but meant for protecting against the cold and little different from bundles of straw. Color and shape were secondary—if the clothing held its shape, was as thick as possible, and wasn't full of bugs, it was great.
These heavy-duty items were sold off by travelers coming down from the north and in turn bought by people who planned to go back up.
Who knew how many years the beat-up piece that Holo held had been carried back and forth for?
When it came to such items, one did not buy them by the piece, but by the pile.
"For tops and bottoms plus two blankets, how does this sound?"
"Yes...well, as you can see, I'm a traveling merchant, and I've come here on business with a trading company I know well—the Milone Company."


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

Input:
He felt a renewed sense of shame at being so utterly hopeless at everything besides business.
"We both know 'tis mere play; do not be so serious. You're making me bashful now."
Holo deliberately placed her hand on his cheek, which Lawrence could only look sour about.
"'Tis well, though. Weiz has a cleverer tongue than you, but I've lived long enough to know that nothing is so untrustworthy as the words we say. Living in the world of trade as you do, surely you're not entirely unaware of that yourself."
A bit surprised at her sudden words, Lawrence saw that while Holo herself was smiling, her clear amber eyes were very serious indeed.
As the god of the wheat harvest, Holo had been kept in her village for a long time. Though the villagers sang her praises, they also hung an iron chain around her neck and did not let her leave. In the end, when they were done with her, their revenge would have been ruthless.
Considering that, Holo's words were heavy.
And yet the hand that so casually held his was warm.
"It's true. I'll tell any lie if it'll bring me a profit."
"They won't work on me, though."
Lawrence could tell her ears twitched proudly beneath her hood, and he couldn't help but smile. "So, shall we go buy some clothes?"
"Aye."
Lawrence wondered what sort of clothes would suit Holo and did his very best to make sure his musings weren't noticed.
Clothes of the sort Holo had bought previously—that cost a gold piece or two for a single item—were basically new goods.
However, few villagers actually wore new clothes.
Once a piece was finished, it was worn until holes began to wear through, and even then were sold again secondhand, repaired, and so on and so on. Merchants would buy used clothes originally made for wealthier merchants, and the used clothes of those middling merchants would then go to man-servants. Servants would sell their clothes to apprentice craftsmen, or donate them to traveling ascetic monks.
This cycle made it clear at a glance where people fit in the social hierarchy.
To be able to spend two gold pieces on newly made clothes was very impressive. Even Lawrence had only one item of tailored clothing, which had been torn in the disturbance with Holo some days earlier.
Did she know that, or didn't she?
Before a shop selling used goods quite a ways down on the cycle of clothing, Holo's face evidenced clear displeasure.
"Huh..." She let a vague sigh escape as she held a brown piece that had probably been dyed by boiling it with tree bark.
Of course, there was no way to tell whether it had just been stained so much that it had turned the color of whatever stains had failed to wash out. That was how beat-up it was.
"That one's forty lute. It's quite sturdy for the price, I must say." The shopkeeper nodded vaguely, and Holo finally put it back on the display table, taking three steps back from the stall.
It was surely meant to declare her lack of interest in any of the clothes here, but it was so like a noble girl that Lawrence had to grin.
"Sir, as we are going north, could you possibly choose some warmer items for the two of us? And not too expensive, please."
"And your budget?"
"Two trenni."
"Very well, sir."
The type of clothing being sold around this time of year was not for everyday use, but meant for protecting against the cold and little different from bundles of straw. Color and shape were secondary—if the clothing held its shape, was as thick as possible, and wasn't full of bugs, it was great.
These heavy-duty items were sold off by travelers coming down from the north and in turn bought by people who planned to go back up.
Who knew how many years the beat-up piece that Holo held had been carried back and forth for?
When it came to such items, one did not buy them by the piece, but by the pile.
"For tops and bottoms plus two blankets, how does this sound?"
"Yes...well, as you can see, I'm a traveling merchant, and I've come here on business with a trading company I know well—the Milone Company."

Output:
"And it seems I'll be coming here several times a year."
This made it clear that the shopkeeper's customer was a traveling merchant with money to spare.
And it was all the better if he was planning on visiting often.
The clothier's business was not based on how much profit he could make from a single piece, but rather how many pieces he could sell, so Lawrence's words put a smile on his face.
"Very good, sir. I quite understand. Shall I add this cloak, then? It's been treated with smoke, of course. I guarantee it'll be vermin-free for two years."
The battered cloak was full of patches, and the blankets were made of terribly scratchy wool, but for those buying supplies for a journey to the north, they could still fetch a decent price.
Lawrence nodded, satisfied, and held out his right hand.
The deal was sealed with a handshake, and the shopkeeper started tying up the bundle of clothes with hemp twine.
Lawrence watched him do it but looked back when one of the pieces was suddenly snatched away.
As he expected, Holo wore a displeased expression.
"I thought we'd come to buy clothes for me," she said.
"That's right...and?" said Lawrence, as though wondering why Holo was asking him something so obvious. As he looked at her, the vigor seemed to drain from her face.
He realized that despite seeming to care only about her tail, Holo had actually been excited about these clothes.
But right after the wave of her disappointment receded, it came crashing back down as anger.
"Are you...saying I should wear this?"
"If you want to fight the cold with just that robe, I don't mind, but..."
Whether she snatched the clothes away because the shopkeeper hadn't asked her or whether it was out of sheer rage, Holo spoke in a low growl. "If you're angry about my using your money, just say as much. I'm Holo the Wisewolf. I've brains and beauty, but my nose is good, too. 'Twould wrinkle my nose to wear such a thing."
"Perhaps a bit of hardship will fix your wrinkled spirits."
Coughing at the sudden smack to the chest he received for this, Lawrence decided not to tease Holo any further.
"Don't be angry. I'll explain the secret here."
Holo was still baring her fangs and growling, but Lawrence took her hand, then spoke to the shopkeeper, who was still busy binding up the clothes.
"Sir, a word, please."
"Hnnnggh...There. Yes?"
"Have you no fine ladies' clothing?"
"Ladies' clothing, you say?"
"Something that could be worn in a northern town and is about her size," he said, referring, of course, to Holo.
The shopkeeper sized Holo up, then glanced back at Lawrence.
There was no doubt he was doing the cost-benefit calculations in his head.
This included not only the state of Lawrence's coin purse, but also Lawrence and Holo's relationship and how much he estimated Holo would be able to get Lawrence to spend.
If he was to bring out a treasured rare article, it could improve his relationship with Lawrence, which in turn could lead to untold profit in the future, which was exactly what he was surely trying to estimate. The more customers a used clothing store had, the more competitors it created. Gaining a traveling client who would visit often was a very big deal.
There was a reason he'd come to a bulk-sale stall like this to buy Holo's clothes.
Even a child could tell the robe Holo wore was of very fine quality. If he brought her, wearing a robe like that, to a cheap used clothier like this, that was like standing in front of rabbit while holding a meat cleaver.
The key to negotiation was to occupy a better position than your opponent.
"Very well. One moment, please."
Heaving the rudely bundled clothing—a horse's hay bale was more neatly tied—onto the display table, he turned and attended to the mountain of goods in the back of the stall.
For a stall like this, the challenge was moving goods from here to there, and thus the shopkeeper would not hesitate to buy from rather suspicious sources.


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

Input:
"And it seems I'll be coming here several times a year."
This made it clear that the shopkeeper's customer was a traveling merchant with money to spare.
And it was all the better if he was planning on visiting often.
The clothier's business was not based on how much profit he could make from a single piece, but rather how many pieces he could sell, so Lawrence's words put a smile on his face.
"Very good, sir. I quite understand. Shall I add this cloak, then? It's been treated with smoke, of course. I guarantee it'll be vermin-free for two years."
The battered cloak was full of patches, and the blankets were made of terribly scratchy wool, but for those buying supplies for a journey to the north, they could still fetch a decent price.
Lawrence nodded, satisfied, and held out his right hand.
The deal was sealed with a handshake, and the shopkeeper started tying up the bundle of clothes with hemp twine.
Lawrence watched him do it but looked back when one of the pieces was suddenly snatched away.
As he expected, Holo wore a displeased expression.
"I thought we'd come to buy clothes for me," she said.
"That's right...and?" said Lawrence, as though wondering why Holo was asking him something so obvious. As he looked at her, the vigor seemed to drain from her face.
He realized that despite seeming to care only about her tail, Holo had actually been excited about these clothes.
But right after the wave of her disappointment receded, it came crashing back down as anger.
"Are you...saying I should wear this?"
"If you want to fight the cold with just that robe, I don't mind, but..."
Whether she snatched the clothes away because the shopkeeper hadn't asked her or whether it was out of sheer rage, Holo spoke in a low growl. "If you're angry about my using your money, just say as much. I'm Holo the Wisewolf. I've brains and beauty, but my nose is good, too. 'Twould wrinkle my nose to wear such a thing."
"Perhaps a bit of hardship will fix your wrinkled spirits."
Coughing at the sudden smack to the chest he received for this, Lawrence decided not to tease Holo any further.
"Don't be angry. I'll explain the secret here."
Holo was still baring her fangs and growling, but Lawrence took her hand, then spoke to the shopkeeper, who was still busy binding up the clothes.
"Sir, a word, please."
"Hnnnggh...There. Yes?"
"Have you no fine ladies' clothing?"
"Ladies' clothing, you say?"
"Something that could be worn in a northern town and is about her size," he said, referring, of course, to Holo.
The shopkeeper sized Holo up, then glanced back at Lawrence.
There was no doubt he was doing the cost-benefit calculations in his head.
This included not only the state of Lawrence's coin purse, but also Lawrence and Holo's relationship and how much he estimated Holo would be able to get Lawrence to spend.
If he was to bring out a treasured rare article, it could improve his relationship with Lawrence, which in turn could lead to untold profit in the future, which was exactly what he was surely trying to estimate. The more customers a used clothing store had, the more competitors it created. Gaining a traveling client who would visit often was a very big deal.
There was a reason he'd come to a bulk-sale stall like this to buy Holo's clothes.
Even a child could tell the robe Holo wore was of very fine quality. If he brought her, wearing a robe like that, to a cheap used clothier like this, that was like standing in front of rabbit while holding a meat cleaver.
The key to negotiation was to occupy a better position than your opponent.
"Very well. One moment, please."
Heaving the rudely bundled clothing—a horse's hay bale was more neatly tied—onto the display table, he turned and attended to the mountain of goods in the back of the stall.
For a stall like this, the challenge was moving goods from here to there, and thus the shopkeeper would not hesitate to buy from rather suspicious sources.

Output:
If bargain finds were the goal, there was no better place than a little stall like this.
"What about something like this? A certain merchant house sold it to me upon the change of the season," said the shopkeeper, producing a collared shirt, which together with a long skirt, had been dyed blue.
Paired with a clean white apron and good posture, it would produce a perfectly suitable ensemble for a maid at a good inn somewhere. Its color was not faded nor its hems worn, so it was most likely stolen.
But whether the article was good or not, the question was would Holo like it?
Lawrence glanced at Holo, who seemed unimpressed.
"Perhaps the lady does not like it."
"I've no time for these silly colors."
If Holo truly had been born into a noble house, she would've inspired rumors that she preferred armor to dresses.
"I want something simpler. Something easy to put on."
Lawrence met the shopkeeper's eyes and smiled.
There was something charming about a girl who wanted to dress quickly.
"In that case..." The shopkeeper turned around and again went searching through his pile of clothes.
When it came to things that were easy to put on, something that went over the shoulders like a robe was a likely choice.
So what along those lines would turn up that would fit a town lass like Holo?
Lawrence wondered about it as he watched the shopkeeper's back, when his eyes lit upon something. "Excuse me, sir, but what is that?"
"Yes?" The shopkeeper looked over his shoulder, both hands holding a thin cloak, then followed Lawrence's pointing finger to its target.
And there it was.
A soft brown leather cape.
"Indeed. Now that my eye's upon it, you're quite right."
It had been mostly buried beneath the pile, but as the shopkeeper carefully extracted the cape, it was indeed just what Lawrence thought it might be.
"This was a very fine piece once worn by a certain nobleman."
Lawrence ignored the shopkeeper's immediate explanation—there was no telling whether it was truth or lies—and looked at Holo, who seemed not displeased.
"The leather's beautifully tanned, you see, here, and the edges are carefully sewn without a single rip. Notice also this walnut button. You fix it about your shoulders like this—like so—there. If she wears it along with one of the special kerchiefs the nobleman had made for his house staff, she'll be every bit the charming town lass."
Lawrence accepted the exaggerated description along with the cape and kerchief, and after a quick look, he handed them to Holo.
Holo sniffed briefly. "Rabbit, eh?" she murmured.
"Does it make you want to eat rabbit?" asked Lawrence, at which Holo smiled voicelessly and looked up.
"This will do."
"You heard the lady. How much, my good man?"
"Thank you for your business. For the two of them, hmm, perhaps ten trenni? No—make it nine."
It was a reasonably good price—surely an investment in having a good relationship with Lawrence.
But there was certainly room to haggle, Lawrence thought, and made a sour face, which made the shopkeeper continue.
"Understood. Then as an exception for this lovely young lady, eight pieces."
Having gotten it to that point, Lawrence couldn't help but smile and was ready to buy—but just before he opened his mouth, Holo smoothly interrupted.
"In that case, out of consideration for my lovely self putting these on and modeling them, how about seven?"
The shopkeeper froze as though having forgotten to breathe, but at Holo's head-cocked smile, he returned to his senses and cleared his throat loudly.
It was not hard to imagine that he had a daughter that looked about Holo's age.
"Very well. I shall let them go for seven."
"Thank you!" said Holo, squeezing the cape and kerchief to her breast and smiling, which elicited another loud throat clearing from the shopkeeper.
Next to her, Lawrence could only smile ruefully at that negotiation ability, far better than what he'd been able to cultivate in his seven years of trade.


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

Input:
If bargain finds were the goal, there was no better place than a little stall like this.
"What about something like this? A certain merchant house sold it to me upon the change of the season," said the shopkeeper, producing a collared shirt, which together with a long skirt, had been dyed blue.
Paired with a clean white apron and good posture, it would produce a perfectly suitable ensemble for a maid at a good inn somewhere. Its color was not faded nor its hems worn, so it was most likely stolen.
But whether the article was good or not, the question was would Holo like it?
Lawrence glanced at Holo, who seemed unimpressed.
"Perhaps the lady does not like it."
"I've no time for these silly colors."
If Holo truly had been born into a noble house, she would've inspired rumors that she preferred armor to dresses.
"I want something simpler. Something easy to put on."
Lawrence met the shopkeeper's eyes and smiled.
There was something charming about a girl who wanted to dress quickly.
"In that case..." The shopkeeper turned around and again went searching through his pile of clothes.
When it came to things that were easy to put on, something that went over the shoulders like a robe was a likely choice.
So what along those lines would turn up that would fit a town lass like Holo?
Lawrence wondered about it as he watched the shopkeeper's back, when his eyes lit upon something. "Excuse me, sir, but what is that?"
"Yes?" The shopkeeper looked over his shoulder, both hands holding a thin cloak, then followed Lawrence's pointing finger to its target.
And there it was.
A soft brown leather cape.
"Indeed. Now that my eye's upon it, you're quite right."
It had been mostly buried beneath the pile, but as the shopkeeper carefully extracted the cape, it was indeed just what Lawrence thought it might be.
"This was a very fine piece once worn by a certain nobleman."
Lawrence ignored the shopkeeper's immediate explanation—there was no telling whether it was truth or lies—and looked at Holo, who seemed not displeased.
"The leather's beautifully tanned, you see, here, and the edges are carefully sewn without a single rip. Notice also this walnut button. You fix it about your shoulders like this—like so—there. If she wears it along with one of the special kerchiefs the nobleman had made for his house staff, she'll be every bit the charming town lass."
Lawrence accepted the exaggerated description along with the cape and kerchief, and after a quick look, he handed them to Holo.
Holo sniffed briefly. "Rabbit, eh?" she murmured.
"Does it make you want to eat rabbit?" asked Lawrence, at which Holo smiled voicelessly and looked up.
"This will do."
"You heard the lady. How much, my good man?"
"Thank you for your business. For the two of them, hmm, perhaps ten trenni? No—make it nine."
It was a reasonably good price—surely an investment in having a good relationship with Lawrence.
But there was certainly room to haggle, Lawrence thought, and made a sour face, which made the shopkeeper continue.
"Understood. Then as an exception for this lovely young lady, eight pieces."
Having gotten it to that point, Lawrence couldn't help but smile and was ready to buy—but just before he opened his mouth, Holo smoothly interrupted.
"In that case, out of consideration for my lovely self putting these on and modeling them, how about seven?"
The shopkeeper froze as though having forgotten to breathe, but at Holo's head-cocked smile, he returned to his senses and cleared his throat loudly.
It was not hard to imagine that he had a daughter that looked about Holo's age.
"Very well. I shall let them go for seven."
"Thank you!" said Holo, squeezing the cape and kerchief to her breast and smiling, which elicited another loud throat clearing from the shopkeeper.
Next to her, Lawrence could only smile ruefully at that negotiation ability, far better than what he'd been able to cultivate in his seven years of trade.

Output:
Adroitly putting the kerchief on over her head to hide her ears—right in front of the shopkeeper, to Lawrence's chagrin—Holo then unbuttoned the robe she wore and let it slide down, wearing it around her waist as a skirt. Then she put the cape over her shoulders and was done.
To Lawrence, who was fully aware of her nonhuman ears and tail, it seemed she changed clothes so easily it might as well have been magic.
The shopkeeper's reputation rose, and Holo was delighted.
A good while after they'd put the shop behind them, Holo finally spoke up.
"Were the clothes very expensive?"
"Not really. They're very good for seven silver pieces."
He spoke honesty, but walking to his left, Holo did not seem particularly proud.
Rebalancing the bundle of clothes that he carried over his right shoulder, Lawrence smiled and added, "Do you think you could've haggled him down further?"
But Holo did not smile, instead shaking her head slowly before answering in a low voice. "If it had been clothes for you to wear, you would've paid a tenth of that, would you not?"
"Yes," Lawrence agreed. "But I was sure it was going to be more than that, so don't trouble yourself over it."
Holo nodded slightly, but her expression did not clear.
"If you'll go easy on the wine at the tavern later, you can handily make up seven silver pieces' worth."
"I hardly drink that much." She finally smiled.
"Still, you drive a hard, hard bargain."
"Oh?"
"Not even the canniest merchant can compare, can they?"
"Hmph. Males are all of them idiots," said Holo with her usual wicked smile, continuing once Lawrence sighed heavily. "What will you do with your load there? Are you carrying it straight to the tavern?"
"This? No, I'm not."
At this, Holo made a perplexed face. "If you're returning to the inn, isn't it that way?"
"I'm not leaving it at the inn, either."
"Hrm?"
"I'm going to sell it to a different clothier. We'll be able to buy up cold-weather gear once we're a bit farther north."
It was a perfectly honest answer, but Holo stood stunned, as though he'd said something truly outrageous. "You're...selling them?"
"Yes. There's no point in carrying them around when we're not going to use them."
"Mm...I suppose that is true...but will you be able to sell them dear?"
"I wonder. I doubt it will be too bad, but we'll probably take a small loss."
There was something funny about Holo's increasingly confused face. "You're going to sell them...even...at a loss?"
"Don't get it, eh?"
"Wait. I'm thinking."
Lawrence smiled at the suddenly obstinate Holo and looked up at the autumn sky.
The sky was always the same pale blue, but at the moment it seemed somehow clearer and wider than usual.
"Mmm..."
"Shall I tell you the trick?" he said, returning his gaze from the familiar sky and seeing his new companion grumbling in frustration. "It's no great thing—and in the end, it's you who's the impressive one."
"Huh...?" said Holo, raising one eyebrow. Lawrence took that as capitulation and let her in on the trick.
"This bundle is two silver pieces' worth of clothing. So let's say I take it to a different clothier and sell it for half that. That's a loss of one silver piece."
"Aye."
"But let's turn our thinking to something else. Anyone can tell the robe you're wearing is a high-quality item. We can even say that someone wearing such a robe would never go to that kind of shop. So when they see you with me, they're going to want to establish a good relationship with me. So what does that shop do?"
Holo answered immediately. "Sell cheaply."
"Right. So what does that imply?"
Holo the self-proclaimed wisewolf's gaze unfocused for a moment.


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

Input:
Adroitly putting the kerchief on over her head to hide her ears—right in front of the shopkeeper, to Lawrence's chagrin—Holo then unbuttoned the robe she wore and let it slide down, wearing it around her waist as a skirt. Then she put the cape over her shoulders and was done.
To Lawrence, who was fully aware of her nonhuman ears and tail, it seemed she changed clothes so easily it might as well have been magic.
The shopkeeper's reputation rose, and Holo was delighted.
A good while after they'd put the shop behind them, Holo finally spoke up.
"Were the clothes very expensive?"
"Not really. They're very good for seven silver pieces."
He spoke honesty, but walking to his left, Holo did not seem particularly proud.
Rebalancing the bundle of clothes that he carried over his right shoulder, Lawrence smiled and added, "Do you think you could've haggled him down further?"
But Holo did not smile, instead shaking her head slowly before answering in a low voice. "If it had been clothes for you to wear, you would've paid a tenth of that, would you not?"
"Yes," Lawrence agreed. "But I was sure it was going to be more than that, so don't trouble yourself over it."
Holo nodded slightly, but her expression did not clear.
"If you'll go easy on the wine at the tavern later, you can handily make up seven silver pieces' worth."
"I hardly drink that much." She finally smiled.
"Still, you drive a hard, hard bargain."
"Oh?"
"Not even the canniest merchant can compare, can they?"
"Hmph. Males are all of them idiots," said Holo with her usual wicked smile, continuing once Lawrence sighed heavily. "What will you do with your load there? Are you carrying it straight to the tavern?"
"This? No, I'm not."
At this, Holo made a perplexed face. "If you're returning to the inn, isn't it that way?"
"I'm not leaving it at the inn, either."
"Hrm?"
"I'm going to sell it to a different clothier. We'll be able to buy up cold-weather gear once we're a bit farther north."
It was a perfectly honest answer, but Holo stood stunned, as though he'd said something truly outrageous. "You're...selling them?"
"Yes. There's no point in carrying them around when we're not going to use them."
"Mm...I suppose that is true...but will you be able to sell them dear?"
"I wonder. I doubt it will be too bad, but we'll probably take a small loss."
There was something funny about Holo's increasingly confused face. "You're going to sell them...even...at a loss?"
"Don't get it, eh?"
"Wait. I'm thinking."
Lawrence smiled at the suddenly obstinate Holo and looked up at the autumn sky.
The sky was always the same pale blue, but at the moment it seemed somehow clearer and wider than usual.
"Mmm..."
"Shall I tell you the trick?" he said, returning his gaze from the familiar sky and seeing his new companion grumbling in frustration. "It's no great thing—and in the end, it's you who's the impressive one."
"Huh...?" said Holo, raising one eyebrow. Lawrence took that as capitulation and let her in on the trick.
"This bundle is two silver pieces' worth of clothing. So let's say I take it to a different clothier and sell it for half that. That's a loss of one silver piece."
"Aye."
"But let's turn our thinking to something else. Anyone can tell the robe you're wearing is a high-quality item. We can even say that someone wearing such a robe would never go to that kind of shop. So when they see you with me, they're going to want to establish a good relationship with me. So what does that shop do?"
Holo answered immediately. "Sell cheaply."
"Right. So what does that imply?"
Holo the self-proclaimed wisewolf's gaze unfocused for a moment.

Output:
If Holo was really so clever, she'd soon come to the correct answer.
A few moments later, Lawrence's prediction proved correct. "So," she said, "looking at the difference between the loss you take when you sell the bundle and the discount the shopkeeper gave you because you bought it, even if you take a loss on the bundle, you still come out ahead in total—is that it?"
He patted her on the head with his left hand as if to say, "Well done!"—at which she hit him hard, and he groaned in pain.
"Hmph. 'Tis a roundabout way of doing things, I'll say that."
"It's called business sense. But your techniques are far stronger, there's no doubt." Lawrence grinned self-deprecatingly, which Holo had to smile at.
"But of course. Your flimsy ideas are no match for my scheming."
"Gee, thanks."
"Oh ho. You think you can best me?" Holo narrowed her eyes, smiling seductively.
The smile suited her—women did not play fair.
Of course, the most unfair part of all was that Holo was perfectly aware of that.
"Well, if you've such confidence, why not try your luck in the tavern later?"
Holo waved her hand lightly, which made Lawrence's words stick in his throat.
He'd forgotten about it until just now—Weiz would also be at the tavern.
"Make sure you buy me for a high price, aye?" said Holo, which Lawrence could not remain silent about.
"Oh, I'll buy you, all right—but I'm paying in apples."
Taken by surprise, Holo's eyes widened a bit, and then with a frustrated smile, she drew nearer to Lawrence. "You're quite harsh yourself sometimes."
"Sweeter when cooked, though."
Holo laughed silently, then very gently took Lawrence's left hand, as though it were fragile. "Too sweet for me to eat."
"And what about you?" asked Lawrence, squeezing her hand as much as he could without aggravating his wound.
"Take a bite and see, if you dare."
Lawrence shrugged helplessly and looked up at the expanse of the sky above him, which was a clear, clear blue.
End.
***
Strange, she thought—the alcohol certainly was working.
It was said the wisewolf could drink a lake dry, but to think she'd be like this after a single cup of this wheat-smelling liquid—And no sooner did the thought occur to her than she was halfway through her second, her face flushed.
And not only was the drink having a surprising effect on her, but also she didn't seem to be one bit pleased about it. Her nose twitched—was the drink not to her liking? She wasn't sure.
Her vision swayed, and she looked hazily over the many dishes on the table, eyelids heavy. Right before her there was an oil-drizzled pork shoulder coated in crushed rock salt, but somehow she had no appetite at all.
No, wait—how much had she already eaten? she wondered.
Having gotten to this point, she was starting to realize that she might actually be feeling quite poorly, which if true, meant that she couldn't very well keep this up.
Had this been just any meal, that would have been one thing—she could've claimed she felt bad, and her companion would have nursed her back to health so thoroughly it would have been embarrassing.
But at the moment, she and her companion were not the only ones sitting at the small round table.
Her traveling companion's foolishness had gotten them into serious trouble, but having negotiated it safely, they were now having a bit of a celebration.
And she was certainly not going to be responsible for ruining such an opportunity. Celebrations, no matter how meager they might be, were very important.
However, this was not the only reason she couldn't afford to collapse here.
No, the biggest reason could surely be found before her very eyes, sitting right at the table.
The flaxen-haired, underfed shepherdess.
Right in front of that, she could hardly afford to look uncouth.
"Still, I never knew sheep could find rock salt," her companion said, sounding very interested as he continued a conversation about shepherds.


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

Input:
If Holo was really so clever, she'd soon come to the correct answer.
A few moments later, Lawrence's prediction proved correct. "So," she said, "looking at the difference between the loss you take when you sell the bundle and the discount the shopkeeper gave you because you bought it, even if you take a loss on the bundle, you still come out ahead in total—is that it?"
He patted her on the head with his left hand as if to say, "Well done!"—at which she hit him hard, and he groaned in pain.
"Hmph. 'Tis a roundabout way of doing things, I'll say that."
"It's called business sense. But your techniques are far stronger, there's no doubt." Lawrence grinned self-deprecatingly, which Holo had to smile at.
"But of course. Your flimsy ideas are no match for my scheming."
"Gee, thanks."
"Oh ho. You think you can best me?" Holo narrowed her eyes, smiling seductively.
The smile suited her—women did not play fair.
Of course, the most unfair part of all was that Holo was perfectly aware of that.
"Well, if you've such confidence, why not try your luck in the tavern later?"
Holo waved her hand lightly, which made Lawrence's words stick in his throat.
He'd forgotten about it until just now—Weiz would also be at the tavern.
"Make sure you buy me for a high price, aye?" said Holo, which Lawrence could not remain silent about.
"Oh, I'll buy you, all right—but I'm paying in apples."
Taken by surprise, Holo's eyes widened a bit, and then with a frustrated smile, she drew nearer to Lawrence. "You're quite harsh yourself sometimes."
"Sweeter when cooked, though."
Holo laughed silently, then very gently took Lawrence's left hand, as though it were fragile. "Too sweet for me to eat."
"And what about you?" asked Lawrence, squeezing her hand as much as he could without aggravating his wound.
"Take a bite and see, if you dare."
Lawrence shrugged helplessly and looked up at the expanse of the sky above him, which was a clear, clear blue.
End.
***
Strange, she thought—the alcohol certainly was working.
It was said the wisewolf could drink a lake dry, but to think she'd be like this after a single cup of this wheat-smelling liquid—And no sooner did the thought occur to her than she was halfway through her second, her face flushed.
And not only was the drink having a surprising effect on her, but also she didn't seem to be one bit pleased about it. Her nose twitched—was the drink not to her liking? She wasn't sure.
Her vision swayed, and she looked hazily over the many dishes on the table, eyelids heavy. Right before her there was an oil-drizzled pork shoulder coated in crushed rock salt, but somehow she had no appetite at all.
No, wait—how much had she already eaten? she wondered.
Having gotten to this point, she was starting to realize that she might actually be feeling quite poorly, which if true, meant that she couldn't very well keep this up.
Had this been just any meal, that would have been one thing—she could've claimed she felt bad, and her companion would have nursed her back to health so thoroughly it would have been embarrassing.
But at the moment, she and her companion were not the only ones sitting at the small round table.
Her traveling companion's foolishness had gotten them into serious trouble, but having negotiated it safely, they were now having a bit of a celebration.
And she was certainly not going to be responsible for ruining such an opportunity. Celebrations, no matter how meager they might be, were very important.
However, this was not the only reason she couldn't afford to collapse here.
No, the biggest reason could surely be found before her very eyes, sitting right at the table.
The flaxen-haired, underfed shepherdess.
Right in front of that, she could hardly afford to look uncouth.
"Still, I never knew sheep could find rock salt," her companion said, sounding very interested as he continued a conversation about shepherds.

Output:
"It's because they love the saltiness for some reason. If you rub salt onto a rock, they'll lick it for ages."
"Oh, so that's true? I once heard about a far-off town where they use sheep like that as a form of torture—very strange. I didn't believe it, honestly."
"They use...sheep?"
The shepherd girl—Norah or some such was her name—had eyes filled with curiosity. The girl's eyes were so gentle and obedient that just looking at them made her want to eat her up.
The sheep-like shepherdess reached out toward a large chunk of beef sitting in the middle of the table. For a while now, all the dishes they'd ordered had been either beef, pork, or fish, with no mutton.
Perhaps this was out of consideration for the shepherdess who was dining with them, but in any case, nobody had asked her.
And of course, to selfishly insist that she'd wanted to have mutton would have been a mark upon her honor as a wisewolf.
Anyway, that didn't matter. It was trivial.
What mattered was that her companion hadn't noticed her poor state at all and was busy gallantly carving a thin slice of beef from the roast and carefully laying it on a plate for the shepherdess.
Irritated, her hand automatically brought her cup to her lips, though the drink had long since lost its flavor. It only served to heat her chest.
Inside her head, a proud wolf—her other self—rolled its eyes at her.
But there was nothing for it. As her mood and condition were both deteriorating, there was a loathed shepherd right in front of her, and to top it all off, she was exactly the kind of meek, pathetic little girl her companion seemed so fond of.
It was the height of male idiocy to prefer such weak girls, but she knew all too well that if she said so out loud, she would be making an utter fool of herself.
She was backed into a corner.
Fighting a battle one was unsuited to was exhausting.
"I've forgotten what the name of the town was, but what they'd do was they'd have sheep lick your feet as a kind of torture."
"Wha—? Sheep would—"
Just when she thought the meek little shepherdess would probably politely sandwich the beef slice between some bread, the girl bit right into it.
But her mouth was small so it was a hesitant little bite, and she couldn't get all the way through it.
The girl should've opened her mouth wider and really ripped into the meat, she wanted to say, but then she saw her companion's face slacken pathetically.
She tucked that away in her memory, along with her anger—that was apparently the way to act when in human form.
"That's right. They have the sheep lick your feet, and apparently they put salt on them. Criminals laugh at first, which is bad enough. But eventually the licking starts to become agony..."
It might have been the liquor, but watching him exaggerate so was delicious.
Perhaps over the course of his journeys, he'd become used to telling stories like this.
But he'd never once told one to her.
The pain of an encroaching headache began to creep into her temples.
"I suppose I've had trouble with the sheep trying to lick my fingers after I've eaten jerky. They're well behaved, but they don't have any restraint, which is a bit scary."
"I imagine your faithful knight is more reasonable on that count."
Her wolf ears pricked up, but her companion surely didn't notice.
The shepherdess's "knight"—he meant her irritating sheepdog.
"You mean Enek? Well...Enek is Enek, and sometimes he tries a little too hard or is rather...unaccommodating...," said Norah when a bark of protest came up from her feet.
He'd been receiving crusts of bread and scraps of meat.
She was well aware that he was looking at her from under the table.
Despite being a mere dog, he'd gone into full alert in the face of a pure wolf.
"Which means that to keep both dog and sheep in line, you must be quite skilled indeed."
The shepherdess widened her eyes in surprise, then flushed red—undoubtedly not from the liquor.
Beneath her robe, the wisewolf's tail fluffed up.