Void Lord: My Revenge Is My Harem

Chapter 231 : Opening Shop and Increasing Harem Members XIV

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Edda stepped in first, like she was checking the air for knives that had learned to float. She did not relax when the door closed behind her. She simply shifted her weight, found the best angles, and decided the room was acceptable enough to allow breathing.

Gael came second, shoulders filling the doorway the way a good forge fills a winter room. He paused just inside, eyes traveling over the front counter, the shelves, the empty hooks, the clean floor, and then deeper, toward the back where the new crafting table sat under cloth and caution.

Behind him came the other two.

The girl was Orna. Sleeve-rolled, hair pinned with practicality, arms strong in a way that did not ask permission. She carried her pack like it was light and carried herself like it was true.

The funny one was Kel. He had the kind of face that looked serious until it opened its mouth, and then it became a crime scene of humor. He stepped in, sniffed once, and said, "Smells like fresh wood, fresh ambition, and a faint hint of; Lord Fizz will somehow make this about himself."

Fizz floated higher, offended on principle. "Excuse you. I make everything about myself because I am the best topic in any room."

Kel blinked at him, then bowed so low his pack creaked. "Lord Fizz. My apologies. I spoke without thinking, which is my main talent besides surviving Gael’s lectures."

Gael grunted. It was the sound of a man agreeing without admitting it.

John stood there for half a breath longer than necessary, because his body needed time to accept the picture as real. These were not strangers in the city. These were hands that had hammered beside him. These were people who had eaten thin soup with him and still shared the last piece of bread like it mattered. These were the ones who had chosen him when choosing him had been a risk, not a reward.

He cleared his throat. "You made it."

Edda’s gaze flicked up and down John, fast as a dagger check. "You look alive," she said, which in her language was a compliment with flowers hidden inside it.

"I am alive," John said. "Come in. All of you. Close the door."

Orna stepped over the threshold and whistled softly. "It’s bigger than I imagined."

"It is bigger than my village house," Kel added. "In my village, if you wanted to turn around you had to file a written request and wait for approval."

Fizz clapped his paws. "Welcome to the capital branch of Fizz Holdings. Please do not bleed on the floor. John worked very hard to make it so clean you could eat from it."

Kel looked down at the floor like it might actually be edible. "I would rather starve."

"Smart," John said.

Gael set his pack down with care, like the floor was an anvil and he respected anvils. "We came as requested," he said. He spoke without drama, but the weight behind the words was heavy. "Edda carried your letter. The mist village let her speak. The village guards listened. Nobody followed."

Edda smiled, private and sharp. "Nobody followed because the last two who tried are now learning new hobbies. Such as breathing through regret."

Orna tilted her head. "Edda, did you behave?" (On the return journey they became closer.)

"I behaved beautifully," Edda said. "Like a saint with a knife."

Gael ignored that the way you ignore weather you cannot fix. He nodded toward the back. "Show me the forge space."

John led them through the shop with small steps that tried not to look nervous. The front was still mostly empty, because he had refused to place things randomly just to feel busy. The shelves were bare but clean. The counter was newly scrubbed. A ledger space waited, like a mouth ready to start eating numbers.

When they reached the back, the new crafting table sat under a cloth like a secret trying to pretend it was furniture.

Fizz drifted beside it and patted the cloth with ceremony. "Behold. The Teeth Table."

Orna frowned. "Why does it sound like it bites?"

"It does not bite," John said.

Fizz stared at him. "It does bite. It bites metal. It bites beast cores. It bit a stone slab earlier. It is a very hungry table."

Gael’s eyes narrowed. "You built this."

John nodded. "With help. Not from people."

Edda’s gaze sharpened, because she knew what "not from people" meant when John said it. She did not ask. She simply filed it away the way she filed away exits.

John lifted the cloth carefully.

The rune rings turned slowly, subtle as breath. The table looked half like a workbench and half like a shrine built by someone who loved machines more than gods. The channels were clean. The shaping grooves were precise. The core slot on the side gleamed with new use.

Orna reached out, then stopped her fingers an inch away like the air itself had told her to mind her manners. "This... is not normal smith work."

"No," John said. "It is not."

Kel leaned in and whispered loudly to Gael, "He built a table that looks like it could teach me math against my will."

Gael’s mouth twitched, almost a smile. It vanished as quickly as it came. "John," he said, low. "Tell me what you intend to do here."

John did not rush the answer. He had learned, in the academy, that speaking too quickly was how you revealed your fear to people who collected fear like coins.

"I intend to open a shop," he said. "Real work. Tools. Enchanted nails. Simple ward plates. Repairs. Blades. Anything that sells and keeps us fed. This place will be the capital face of Fizz Holdings. We will do honest business."

Fizz lifted a paw. "And also very dramatic business."

"Quiet," John said.

Fizz lowered his paw, offended again. "I am the brand itself."

Gael looked at the table again. "And this."

John’s jaw tightened. "This is for special orders."

Orna’s eyes glinted. "Special, like rich."

"Special, like dangerous," John corrected.