A Waste of Time

Chapter 15: Flicker of Fate

“Welcome! How can I help you today?” The woman — late twenties, tidy braid, sleeves rolled to her elbows — rose from her stool the moment Daemon and Ru stopped in front of her humble stall. She set her chipped teacup aside and stood tall, the gesture subtle but telling: only merchants who understood the art of respect greeted simple customers like nobles.

Daemon gave her stall a single glance, then smiled faintly. Auntie Fan didn’t steer me wrong. He stepped forward — but instead of browsing, he calmly sat in the very chair she’d just vacated.

“Pour me some tea and listen,” he said, tone calm but carrying an edge that made the woman’s brows lift slightly in surprise. “I need at least a dozen sets of underwear and a dozen more of daily clothes — all sized one up, in case my growth spurt hits early. Bring me your options for footwear too. I’ll need six pairs or so.”

He took the cup she passed him — hands steady, expression unreadable. Little Qiu froze mid-step when the full weight of his order sank in — the sheer quantity alone was more than most villagers would buy in half a year.

Daemon turned to Ru, ignoring her stunned face for a moment. “I’ve been meaning to ask… How much money do we have on hand now, after selling the pheasants?”

Ru inclined his head slightly, tone crisp. “Replying to Young Master — we have about fifteen gold pieces accessible. The rest of our savings are hidden nearby — I can retrieve it within a few hours if needed.” He paused, then added, almost conversationally, “I can also complete Ao’s bounty and turn in his ring as proof. That would net us thirty more gold from the Assassins Guild.”

The faintest whistle slipped past Daemon’s lips as he sipped his tea. Little Qiu, meanwhile, nearly dropped the bundle of fabric in her arms. Her knees almost buckled. Assassins Guild? Thirty gold? Who is this child?

She forced her fingers to move — selecting her best fabrics, the kind only high-rollers or traveling nobles ever requested. Definitely visiting Auntie Fan tonight. She owes me an explanation. Her mind raced as she laid out neat stacks of finely woven cloth.

Daemon pinched the hem of a tunic between his fingers, rubbed the weave between thumb and forefinger, and nodded. “I’ll take these — but throw in another dozen sets from your cheaper stock too. I’ll need those for training and hunting. And something comfortable for sleep.”

Little Qiu moved briskly, the chatter of the market fading behind the rush of her own heartbeat. A boy — no, a young master — ordering as calmly as if he owned the stall. And perhaps, in a way, he did.

“And I notice you don’t sell socks.” Daemon’s voice broke her thoughts again. He leaned back, smirk just a ghost on his lips. “Shoes without socks cause blisters, foul smell, infections. I want socks ready for me tomorrow.”

Qiu blinked. “So… socks?” She mouthed the word like it was foreign coin.

“Universal fit,” Daemon explained easily. “One piece covers the foot — the length depends on taste. I want mine to reach just above the ankle. Women might want secret ones — barely covering toes and sole, hidden inside a shoe. Or thigh-highs — thin, elastic, hugging the legs. Some prefer netted — like fishnets, holes by design. The pattern’s all taste.”

A flush crept up Qiu’s neck as her mind painted the images — delicate silk drawn up pale thighs, secret lace beneath layered skirts. A ripple of excitement spread through her chest. Genius. This alone could feed me for years…

Daemon went on, pointing with his finger for clarity. “Keep the stitching thin — nothing bulky underfoot. Use soft, breathable fabric. Place the seam above the toe joints — another along the top. Nothing worse than a thick knot under the ball of your foot.”

He finished his tea in one slow swallow. “Now. Footwear.”

Little Qiu nearly jolted — she’d been so caught up in the vision of secret socks that she’d forgotten the obvious. She laid out pairs of shoes with trembling fingers — all simple, rough leather, thick seams, soles barely stitched on.

Daemon’s lips twisted. His eyes swept the display once, unimpressed. “How would you improve these?” she asked, surprising even herself. The boldness cracked through her usual caution — a gamble, but the way this boy spoke… He knows things I don’t.

He leaned back, eyes half-lidded. “Sole comes first — compress and harden the leather, stitch it beneath. Keeps sharp rocks from chewing your feet to bits. Etch grooves on the bottom for grip — rain, mud, moss. Simple fix, big difference. Do that, and you’ll run half your competition into the dirt.”

Her cheeks warmed with the sudden awareness that he could see right through her — her ambitions, her worry about suppliers, her hidden hopes. She bowed low, fighting to keep her hands from trembling. “Thank you, young master.”

Daemon waved her off as if it cost him nothing. “Until you craft something better, I’ll take these. Now — how much do I owe you?”

He turned to Ru. “You and your sister have spare clothes hidden too?”

Ru coughed lightly, ears reddening. “We were planning to lure that fool Ao to a secluded spot, finish the job, then leave the region entirely. No spare clothes — the plan was a three-day trip, round and back.”

Daemon barked a laugh. “So you lured that idiot for days? All the way to my neck of the woods?”

“Mm.” Ru nodded, trying not to grin.

“With what bait?” Daemon leaned forward, eyes gleaming. Even Little Qiu leaned in, forgetting her merchant’s mask entirely.

Ru’s smile turned sly. “Your maid.”

Daemon slapped his knee. “Your sister? Man — what if he slipped your net and gobbled poor Jia up while you slept?”

Qiu nearly choked trying not to laugh.

Ru shrugged. “Ao was part of a bandit gang. He had a pattern — he liked to ‘collect’ new brides. He’d convince grooms to hand them over for ‘protection.’ Twisted, but predictable. We gave him bait. He took it.”

Daemon snorted — but then stopped short when he saw the pallor drain Qiu’s face. “What is it? You know him?”

She swallowed hard, voice thin. “My sister — my older sister — was one of his… victims.”

Silence settled over the little stall like a falling shroud. For once, Daemon didn’t have a quip ready. He offered the only thing he could — quiet sincerity. “Then I’m glad he’s gone. May her soul rest easy.”

Qiu nodded once, pressing her lips together to keep them from trembling.

Daemon shifted his tone, gentle but firm. “How much for everything?”

She clenched her hands, calculated in her head, then forced her voice to stay steady. “Seven silvers, forty-four coppers.”

He watched the flicker of guilt cross her face — the tiny lie she told to take a loss, to thank him in her own small way. His mouth curled in a knowing half-smile.

“Ru. Ten silvers.” He stood, pushing the curtain aside to change behind it. “No charity. I don’t need it. Use the extra to stock up. And get yourself and your sister something decent too — let’s see if your taste matches your kindness.”

He disappeared behind the cloth with a soft rustle. Ru counted out the coins and pressed them into Qiu’s trembling hands.

“Good luck with your test,” Ru said, grin widening as he saw how tightly she clutched the coins, the raw spark in her eyes now burning with purpose.

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