Whether Allen was in trouble or not was still unclear for the moment—but the old man had very clearly provoked someone truly terrifying.
Just as he was stroking his beard with a dark expression, the door of his shop was knocked on once more. Wearing a thoroughly impatient look, the old man prepared to go chase off whoever was outside. But the instant he opened the door, he realized that the person standing there was someone he never expected—and absolutely could not afford to offend.
In a split second, the anger on the old man's face vanished, replaced by a wide, ingratiating smile. "Ah! Why, what brings you here? You should've sent word ahead of time. Look at the state of my shop—it's a mess. Please wait outside for a moment; I'll tidy things up right away."
With that, he immediately tried to shut the door, fully intending to bolt through the emergency escape passage and disappear without a trace.
Before he could act, however, a soft, gentle voice froze his hand in midair as if struck by a Petrification Curse.
"Go on, clean up quickly. But if you're not done in five minutes—or if you dare try sneaking away while 'cleaning'—then don't blame me for being impolite. I'll personally help you clean this place thoroughly. So thoroughly, in fact, that when you come back, you may find it no longer exists."
"Don't, don't, don't—please, my lady, don't joke like that," the old man pleaded with a bitter smile. "I was only kidding. This old man's shop is just like this anyway. If you don't mind, please feel free to sit, do whatever you like. If you really enjoy it that much—even tearing it down is fine. Just leave me a brick or two so I can keep the wind and rain off."
The speaker stepped inside with light, delicate steps as the old man forced a strained smile. Under the deliberately dim lighting—installed to make counterfeit goods easier to sell—her figure was revealed. Even knowing full well that she was doing her utmost to restrain her charm, the old man still didn't dare open his eyes too wide. He knew all too well just how terrifying this woman truly was.
The visitor appeared to be around thirty years old. She wore plain, unadorned clothing, yet her figure made it irresistibly alluring. The old man was painfully aware that this was already the result of her consciously suppressing her allure.
Surveying the battlefield that hadn't yet been fully cleaned up, a trace of surprise appeared on her face. Her carefully controlled charm leaked out ever so slightly. Unable to endure it, the old man silently chanted a spell and turned his head away, trying to block that overwhelming presence.
"…You too?" the woman asked, clearly not bothering to rein in her aura as she spoke to his turned back. "Even your place got wrecked?"
"Hm? What do you mean by that?" The old man didn't turn around, surprise creeping into his voice. She was the true master behind this island—who would dare demolish her territory?
She clearly had no intention of answering his question. Straightening her expression, she said coldly, "Enough. There's no time to explain. Where is my niece?"
"Your… niece?" The old man froze. He hadn't seen any little girl all day. How could he possibly have encountered her niece?
"That's right—my own niece came here to play," the woman continued, rolling her eyes. "At dinner the day before yesterday, she insisted on going out. I scolded her, and the brat blew up her own room and snuck out. My subordinates traced her trail here just now."
She snorted. "Fine. If they weren't qualified to deal with you, then I'll handle this personally. Hand over my niece."
The old man raised both hands, his face full of helplessness. "You're welcome to search my shabby little shop as you please. I truly haven't seen your niece. Didn't you leave some kind of magical mark on her?"
The woman frowned slightly, her expression tinged with frustration. "I did. But that child seems to have some kind of concealment magic on her now. I can only confirm that she's alive—I can't pinpoint her location. I came here hoping to find a clue, and you go and tell me you didn't—"
She suddenly stopped. Bending slightly, a surge of killing intent burst forth as she picked up a single strand of hair from the floor.
"I'll ask you one more time," she said slowly, each word weighed down with fury. "Have you really not seen her?"
"Don't—don't—really, I haven't! Today there were only three—" He abruptly stopped.
Because he realized whose hair that was most likely.
It belonged to the boy who had taken away his ancestral inheritance.
Compared to this woman's wrath, his family's legacy was obviously more important. He didn't care whether that young man was good or evil—over all these years, he had never found a more suitable successor. It was hard to imagine that kid surviving under this woman's terrifying authority.
Besides, hadn't she said it herself? Her niece wasn't in any mortal danger. And considering the boy's age… could it be a case of elopement?
The more he thought about it, the more plausible it seemed. The kid was obnoxious, sure—but his strength was undeniably real. And if the girl was her blood relative, her looks certainly wouldn't be lacking. A strong boy and a beautiful girl—tsk, tsk, a match made in heaven.
Best of all, this would fulfill the old man's lifelong wish. As expected of the one I picked.
Swallowing the prepared explanation, he smoothly changed his words. "Well… although there were only three customers today, this old man did step out for a while. You know how it is—with those protective enchantments, most people wouldn't dare steal from me. Perhaps the little princess just happened to pass through and left that trace behind?"
The woman smiled faintly and began muttering under her breath. "Oh… before I met you, I thought the world contained nothing but swords. It was your arrival that brought vitality and color back into my world. I can hardly imagine a world without you…"
"Stop—stop! Please stop, my lady!" the old man cried out, his face flushing an unhealthy shade of red.
That was his darkest secret—words he'd written long ago after first seeing her and being utterly captivated. Having it recited now made him wish the ground would split open so he could crawl inside.
"I'll talk! I'll tell you everything!"
He coughed lightly. "It was a boy—about fifteen or sixteen years old. That hair came from him. But I beg you, my lady, please show mercy. He's the successor I finally managed to find."
The woman waved her hand dismissively. "Very well. I understand. Punishment is unavoidable, of course—that is my niece. But for your sake, I won't cripple him. At most, I'll leave him bedridden for ten days or half a month."
As her hurried footsteps faded into the distance, the old man wiped the sweat from his brow.
I just hope that brat has some sense, he thought. Don't do anything too outrageous. Maybe she'll go a little easier on him for my sake.
Suddenly, the old man slapped his forehead.
Wait a second—if that lady personally takes action and already promised as much, then that brat is definitely getting beaten half to death.
Isn't that exactly what I wanted?
At that realization, the old man broke into a wide grin. Reaching under the counter, he pulled out a jug of liquor and took a satisfied sip.
He felt that he couldn't possibly be luckier.
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