A Waste of Time

Chapter 14: Veiled Reflection

“Auntie Fan!” Daemon called, waving at the old woman hunched over a wooden barrel in front of her modest house. She was elbow-deep in soapy water, scrubbing her family’s clothes with brisk, practiced motions.

When she lifted her head and saw the boy, her lined face lit up with a smile that held more warmth than half the village combined. A boy who survived alone in the woods for months, she thought. Predators, cold, hunger — and he came back taller in spirit than half these men ever were. Her eyes glimmered with a quiet pride that Daemon’s own mother had never shown him.

“Well, well, well! If it isn’t my favorite little lumberjack,” Auntie Fan called out, teasing but affectionate. “Finally remembered this old woman, did you? But where’s my stack of firewood? You know I’m running low.”

Daemon scratched his head, sheepish at her good-natured scolding. “I’m... actually quitting the lumber business. Found better work. I came to thank you, Auntie Fan — for always looking out for me. Please accept this.” He pulled one of the three remaining pheasants free and held it out to her.

Fan just stared at him, then at Ru, then back at him — arms crossed, eyes narrowed. “And how exactly do you plan to feed yourself now, boy?”

Ru, standing behind Daemon, couldn’t help comparing her warmth to the cold, greedy gaze of Daemon’s own mother.

“I’m hunting from now on. Under Ru’s supervision.” Daemon gave her a sly grin, pushing the pheasant into her hands despite her stubborn resistance. “Don’t worry — my favorite customer will always get the best cuts.”

Fan snorted, pretending to be annoyed, though her mouth tugged up at the corners. “Selling the rest too, then?” She flicked her eyes at the other birds.

“Mm-hm.”

She scratched her chin, then jabbed a wet finger down the road. “Sell them to Old Man Lou in the market. Don’t let him squeeze you for less than twenty coppers for both. He’ll sell them for thirty, but that’s none of your business. You focus on building your name — a reliable hunter is worth gold in this village.”

Daemon bowed his head, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “I will. Any advice on clothes? And maybe... shoes?” He lifted a foot, showing the straw sandals tied together with frayed twine.

Fan’s expression soured instantly. “Don’t you dare go to that snake Wen — overpriced rags and loose threads! Find Little Qiu at the end of the market, next to the butcher’s stall. Small stand, easy to miss, but fair prices and good work.”

She clearly had stories she wanted to tell — probably enough gossip to last an afternoon — but Daemon just bowed low and waved her goodbye before she could start. Ru followed him with a quiet nod.

Auntie Fan watched them vanish down the lane, then muttered to herself, voice hoarse with old regret. “Da Wei... oh, Da Wei... That woman you married was never worth a bent copper. Wouldn’t listen, and now you’re gone — thrown away for some cause that didn’t spare a thought for village folk. Hah! But your boy... he’s got steel in him. She threw him out like garbage, but look at him — walking out like a man. Heh.” She sighed, cracking her knuckles before plunging them back into the water. “Maybe these brats will bring me daughters-in-law someday — someone else can scrub these damn clothes before my arms fall off.”

“Pleasure doing business with you!” Old Man Lou wheezed, gripping Daemon’s hand in a show of warmth — but his eyes flicked nervously to Ru instead, as if searching for the real master behind the boy. When Daemon’s grip tightened, Lou yelped, feeling his knuckles grind.

“H-haha! Strong grip for a young one — very strong, yes indeed!” He snatched his hand back, rubbing it like a man whose coins were about to sprout legs and run.

“Then I trust you’ll have no trouble selling whatever I bring you next.” Daemon’s face stayed blank for a heartbeat — then split into a friendly grin. “Especially when I’m giving it to you at two-thirds the going price. A fair deal, isn’t it?”

A cold shiver crawled up Lou’s back. Gone was the naive boy he’d expected to swindle. Instead, he found himself staring into the sharp eyes of a cub that would grow into a wolf.

This brat has teeth,

Lou thought, studying Daemon’s face. But the offer was good — too good to risk losing. “Well — I can’t promise to buy everything, but I’ll do my best — of course, of course! So long as the quality stays high.”Daemon just shrugged. “If you can’t buy it, at least display it. If you sell it, you keep a cut. Simple.”

Lou’s mind raced. Refusing meant losing fresh meat at bargain prices — good way to lose customers to another butcher. Not worth it. He sighed, nodding. “Fine. But I have a condition too.”

Daemon arched an eyebrow — Ru kept silent, scanning the stalls as the afternoon heat eased.

“Some of my customers want specific animals. If I send you after them, that order comes first — I’ll pay extra.”

Daemon didn’t answer. Instead, he walked to a wooden crate stacked high with animal bones — big enough that two men usually struggled to lift it. Without a word, he hooked a finger through the iron ring, squatted, braced his other hand — and lifted the whole thing overhead in one smooth motion. The muscles in his skinny arms barely twitched.

Gasps rose around them. A passing merchant froze mid-step. Lou’s mouth flapped open like a fish.

Daemon lowered the crate gently back to the ground. He brushed off his palms. “Deal.”

Lou coughed, regaining what dignity he could muster. “Blue-nosed deer. Buff-tailed elk. Snow-claw bear. Long-tusk boar. Those four — clients have been asking.”

Daemon just nodded, offering his hand again. Lou stared at it a moment before grasping it carefully, mindful of the iron grip he’d tasted a moment ago.

“Until next time, Old Man Lou.” Daemon gave a polite bow, then turned on his heel with Ru at his side. The old butcher stood frozen for a long breath before waving them off.

When they were gone, he flexed his hand, muttering under his breath. “What the hell are these kids eating these days? Hey! You!” He barked at a broad-shouldered worker lounging by the door. “Lift this crate — by yourself.”

The man blinked, hesitated, then stooped to the task. His face turned purple as he strained. The box barely budged.

Lou just stared, shaking his head. “No damn way. That little wolf cub’s not normal.”

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