A Waste of Time

Chapter 16: Pale Crescents

“A little lacking, but still a huge step up from how I looked when I arrived…” Daemon muttered to himself as he straightened the collar of his new shirt, tugged at the hem, and turned as if hoping a mirror would magically appear. For a moment, a flicker of his old life — one full of polished floors and gilded vanity — surfaced behind his steady eyes.

Who’d have thought I’d miss something as vain as a mirror? A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. No wonder that witch in the fairy tale kept talking to hers. Maybe she was just bored out of her skull.

He caught sight of Little Qiu throwing her fist in the air behind him — so excited she nearly lost her balance. He let the corners of his mouth lift a fraction more.

When her spark settled, Qiu bowed deeply, voice soft but brimming with an energy she couldn’t hide. “I’ll always be at your service, young master! Um… ah— I— I just realized… I forgot to ask… your name!”

“Heh.” Ru actually chuckled, adjusting the weight of the large sack slung over his shoulder. The man’s tone turned dry. “Next time, do you have something to carry all this in? We’re not beasts of burden.”

Qiu’s eyes widened in embarrassment. She hurried behind her stall, fetched an old cloth sack, and gave it a good shake before brushing off the dust. She handed it over with both hands and an apologetic smile. Daemon accepted it with a nod.

“My name’s Daemon — but Auntie Fan and the folks here just call me Da Niu,” he said casually. “Pleasure.”

“The pleasure is all mine, young master… Dai Mo En…” She butchered his name completely, her cheeks flaring red when she realized.

Daemon snorted. He didn’t correct her. If anything, her slip only entertained him more. “As for forgetting — I suppose our brilliant little merchant here was too busy sniffing out all the ways to line her pockets to bother with something so basic.” He winked at her. Qiu ducked her head, suddenly fascinated by the tips of her own shoes.

When she peeked up, her voice was tiny. “I’m sorry, truly. Please accept my apology—”

Daemon’s grin turned sly, sharp enough to make Ru sigh preemptively. “Only if you agree to marry Ru.”

Ru: “…what?”

Qiu: “EH—?!”

Daemon leaned back, the picture of smug mischief. “Kekeke… Relax, you two. It’s just a joke. If I really wanted it to happen, I’d just order it. Since when did your opinions matter anyway?”

He sauntered past them, waving lazily over his shoulder. Ru stayed rooted to the ground for a heartbeat, face caught between horror and helpless disbelief. Qiu’s hands flew to her burning cheeks, eyes darting to the stoic swordsman beside her. For a fleeting second, an absurd, dangerous thought bloomed in her chest — What if…?

No! Stupid Qiu! What are you, twelve? She forced the silly dream down, but she couldn’t help the tiny smile it left behind.

Ru finally let out a long breath, muttered under it, “I’m going to kill him one day,” and trudged after his master.

“Where to next?” Daemon asked, fighting to keep his giggles in check as they stepped out into the dusty street.

“Just follow me — and try not to make trouble,” Ru hissed under his breath, adjusting the sack on his shoulder with exaggerated patience.

Daemon only shrugged. He shuffled a pebble with the tip of his boot, bored. The tiny stone bounced off ahead, landing near a pair of sandaled feet.

Thunk.

“Ow—! Who did that?!” A shrill yelp broke the afternoon calm.

The pebble’s unlucky target turned, hopping on one foot while gripping his ankle like he’d been shot. The boy looked maybe sixteen — soft clothes, bright sash, and that unmistakable air of a spoiled brat who’d never lifted a bucket in his life. His eyes darted around until they locked onto Daemon’s grin.

“You a walking jinx or something?” Daemon mumbled to Ru, who immediately pretended not to hear.

The teen squared his shoulders, spotted Daemon’s grin — and took offense instantly. He puffed himself up, waving at the three other boys who flanked him, all older and just as punchable. Their swagger said everything: the market’s resident bullies.

“Whatcha laughin’ at?!” the leader barked, puffed chest on display. The lackeys spread out, circling Daemon like dogs scenting an easy mark.

Daemon didn’t move. He just propped his chin on his fist, amused. “You. Want me to blow on it for you? I charge extra for that, by the way.”

Ru’s shoulders tensed. He looked skyward as if praying. Not even five minutes of peace…

“You did that on purpose!” The ringleader’s voice cracked halfway through the sentence. He jabbed a finger at Daemon’s chest.

Daemon regarded him with the bored disdain one might show a fly buzzing near dinner. “Are you a pig? If I said it was an accident, would you believe it? Let’s stop the act — do you want to yap like a mutt, or do you actually want to bite?”

A ripple of laughter and muffled gasps spread through the small crowd that had already gathered. The market lived for petty drama — and today’s main event was shaping up nicely.

The boy’s face twisted crimson. His lackeys looked at each other, uncertain. But pride — or stupidity — won out.

“Y-you— Go to hell!” The bully lunged, swinging his fist like he’d never punched anything but a pillow.

Thud.

Daemon caught it mid-swing, his fingers locking around the kid’s knuckles with an audible pop.

“Too weak,” Daemon sighed. “Don’t they feed you at home?”

“Y—!” The bully’s voice cracked again — but Daemon didn’t bother to let him finish. He planted his free hand on the boy’s chest and drove a stiff punch into his solar plexus.

WHUMP.

The bully’s air left him in a wheeze. He folded like a chair.

A lackey shrieked and lunged. Daemon sidestepped, drove his elbow into the next boy’s gut — same spot, same precision.

Thud. Down he went.

Third lackey panicked — he swung wild, eyes squeezed shut. Daemon caught the ankle mid-kick, twisted. The boy yelped as he flailed into an awkward split. Daemon’s foot connected with his midriff, sending him sprawling with a squeak.

The last one froze — knees shaking. Daemon tilted his head, face all innocence. “No hard feelings. But your buddies’ll never let you live it down if I don’t give you a taste too.”

The boy’s lips trembled. Daemon pointed behind him. “Hey, what’s that?”

Instinct did the rest. The lackey glanced back — a reflex as old as human curiosity. Daemon flicked his knuckles into the kid’s belly. The poor fool folded with a sad croak.

The gathered villagers murmured, half-scandalized, half-thrilled. Ru stood behind them, one hand pressed to his temple. This child… is a menace.

Daemon squatted in the middle of his groaning victims, clasped his hands into a little frame, and mimed taking a photo. “Legendary. Poster worthy.”

An old woman nearby chuckled behind her hand. “Naughty boy, but about time someone taught those good-for-nothings a lesson.”

A shopkeeper at his doorway nodded. “Aye. These brats have been terrorizing folk for months.”

A young woman near a fruit stand watched Daemon’s back with an unreadable look. He’s reckless… but he doesn’t look away. Not like the rest of them.

Daemon straightened, brushing dust off his sleeve. He turned to the still-gasping ringleader just as he managed to croak, “B-bastard… M-my father’ll hear of this—!”

Daemon raised a brow. “Good. Maybe he’ll send someone worth my time next.”

Here's a link to my discord server if you want to talk - .gg/HwHHR6Hds