A few minutes later, Elira appeared from the corridor and lifted a hand toward them.
"Follow me."
Ronan and Darius rose from their seats and trailed after her. Their boots scraped softly against polished stone as she guided them through the boutique's quieter halls. The noise from the main floor gradually faded behind them—voices, bargaining, footsteps—until only the muted crackle of enchanted lamps and the rustling of expensive drapery remained.
She stopped before a large carved door adorned with silver filigree.
Ronan blinked, then looked up at the engraved emblem on the wood.
"This is a VIP room." His brow rose slowly. "We're not VIPs."
Elira turned back with a small smile. The corners of her eyes softened.
"Don't worry. I'll take responsibility."
For a brief moment, Ronan simply looked at her.
They had walked into the shop covered in dust, stained with dried blood and dirt from the forest. Most people would've wrinkled their noses and looked elsewhere. Yet from the beginning, she hadn't.
He said nothing.
Just gave a small nod and stepped inside.
The room felt like entering an entirely different world.
Soft carpets covered the floor. Dark oak furniture sat arranged with quiet elegance beneath warm amber lamps. A faint scent of sandalwood and herbs lingered in the air, subtle and calming.
Elira placed a tray on the table between them. Freshly sliced fruits glistened beneath the light, beads of moisture still clinging to their surfaces. Beside them sat two glasses of chilled water.
"Please rest here." She straightened. "I'll call you when it's time."
Ronan and Darius nodded.
"Thank you, Elira."
She gave a slight bow.
"You're welcome."
The door clicked shut behind her.
Silence settled over the room.
Not an uncomfortable silence.
The kind that came after surviving something exhausting. Like finally stepping indoors after standing in a storm for hours.
Ronan leaned backwards and released a slow breath, letting his head rest against the chair.
"We're finally back."
Darius let out a tired exhale through his nose.
"Barely."
Ronan snorted faintly.
Neither of them spoke after that.
There wasn't much need.
The scratches on their arms, the dirt on their clothes, the heaviness dragging at their limbs—all of it spoke loudly enough.
—
Elsewhere, in a quiet corner of the Hunter's Boutique, Elira hurriedly scribbled onto a folded piece of parchment.
Her handwriting flowed rapidly across the page.
She folded it once and handed it to Marienne.
"Give this to Master Garrick Vale. Ronan wants to meet him. He said it's urgent."
Marienne's expression shifted slightly before she nodded.
"I understand."
Without another word, she disappeared upstairs.
—
Several minutes later, soft candlelight danced across the VIP room.
Ronan and Darius had completely lost their battle against exhaustion.
Both boys sat slumped over the polished table, asleep where they sat. Their heads rested against folded arms, shoulders drooping heavily.
Ronan's breathing was slow and steady.
Darius had somehow shifted sideways and nearly looked like he had collapsed mid-conversation.
The door opened with a quiet creak.
A young employee stepped inside nervously, followed by three women.
Sophia Aldercrest.
Andera Aldercrest.
And another girl.
The girl's eyes immediately swept across the room before freezing.
On the boys.
"Oh—"
The employee immediately lowered her voice.
"I'll remove them. They must've sneaked in."
Sophia raised a hand before she could take another step.
"Leave them."
Her tone wasn't loud.
It didn't need to be.
"We're not here to make a scene."
The employee immediately stiffened.
"Y-Yes."
She hurriedly placed a tray of fruits and chilled nectar on the table before retreating.
Sophia crossed her legs and leaned back, staring toward Ronan.
A smirk tugged at her lips.
"What is this brat doing here?" she muttered. "And in this condition?"
The third girl's gaze hadn't moved.
Not once.
Her eyes remained fixed on Darius.
Sophia noticed.
She raised an eyebrow.
"What?"
The girl hesitated.
"Do you... know them?"
Sophia pointed lazily toward Ronan.
"That's Ronan. Samantha's little brother." She shifted toward Darius. "The other one's Darius, I think."
The instant the name left her mouth—
The girl nearly jumped out of her seat.
"What?!"
She leaned over the sleeping Darius, eyes widening.
No.
Not possible.
Her eyes scanned his face carefully.
The same hair.
Same features.
Same habit of sleeping like he'd lost a fight with gravity.
"I..." Her voice faltered. "I know a boy named Darius."
She swallowed.
"But there's no way he'd be in Serenwyn..."
The three exchanged uncertain glances.
Then the door opened once more.
Marienne stepped inside and gave a polite bow.
"Young Master Ronan. Young Master Darius. Please come with me."
Ronan stirred first.
His eyes cracked open.
"...Ugh."
He slowly lifted his head and blinked at her.
"Marienne?"
His voice still carried sleep.
"Are you working overtime for that money-loving shop master now?"
He rubbed one eye lazily.
"Doing free labour?"
Marienne covered her mouth and laughed softly.
"Oh? No, no."
Her eyes curved into crescents.
"He's paying us very well."
Beside him, Darius groaned.
His joints cracked as he stretched.
"Agh..."
He looked like his soul had only partially returned to his body.
Both boys stood, still half asleep, and followed Marienne toward the door.
Not once did they glance toward Sophia's group.
The door shut.
Silence.
Andera stared at it.
Then slowly turned.
"...Sophia."
She narrowed her eyes.
"I feel somewhat offended."
Sophia clicked her tongue.
"You'd do well to stay away from that brat."
She folded her arms.
"I don't like his character."
—
Inside the meeting room, Garrick Vale sat comfortably in a high-backed leather chair.
His fingers rested together beneath his chin while silver-rimmed spectacles reflected warm lamplight.
When Ronan and Darius entered, he gave a calm nod.
"Good evening, boys."
"Good evening, Master Garrick."
Ronan and Darius greeted politely.
Garrick observed them quietly.
Travel-worn clothing.
Dust.
Small cuts.
Exhaustion.
Yet despite all that, neither looked nervous.
"To what do I owe this visit?"
Ronan smiled faintly.
"We came to sell something you might find interesting."
Garrick's expression remained neutral.
Inside, however, thoughts moved rapidly.
Ronan... gifted, certainly. Alden and Amara think highly of him.
But those two weren't on this journey.
If these children dragged me here for common materials...
His fingers folded across his chest.
"Well then."
His tone cooled slightly.
"What is it?"
Ronan noticed immediately.
Not the words.
The shift beneath them.
The tiny difference in posture.
The distance.
His expression flattened.
"Rank-Three Moonveil Moth cores and intact bodies."
"Rank-Four Silkmind Moth cores and bodies."
"Rank-Five Silvershade Moth bodies. Two complete cores."
Several medium-sized storage boxes floated into existence.
Garrick's eyebrows twitched.
"Rank-Three Soulhorn Deer."
"Rank-Four Dawnmane Stags."
"Rank-Five Auracrest Fawns. Two intact bodies and cores."
One box drifted toward Garrick.
He pressed a palm against it and infused it with Aether.
Click.
The lid opened.
Then Garrick froze.
His eyes widened behind his spectacles.
Perfect.
Everything was perfect.
No fractures.
No damaged pelts.
No shattered cores.
Pristine.
His gaze lifted slowly.
"...Marienne."
The door opened almost instantly.
"Yes, Master?"
"Take these. Thorough appraisal."
"Understood."
With a wave of her hand, the boxes vanished into her storage ring.
Ronan continued as if none of it mattered.
A crystal orb floated into his hand.
Golden light illuminated the room.
Inside, radiant cores shimmered while streams of gold curled around them like tiny comets.
Garrick leaned forward before realising he had done so.
"Primordial Flame Cores..."
Ronan's eyes remained calm.
"I want them auctioned."
His voice carried no hesitation.
"Seller identity remains hidden."
"If that's impossible, then the deal ends here."
A small pause.
"If the deal proceeds, Master Alden takes over from me."
Garrick stared.
No uncertainty.
No greed.
No childish excitement.
Just business.
Ronan slid a parchment across the table.
"I need high-quality elixirs for soul injuries. Elixirs for restoring Soul Power. These herbs as well."
Garrick scanned the list.
"...I can arrange it."
Ronan glanced toward the wall clock.
"The five minutes we asked for are up."
He looked back.
"We'll wait downstairs."
Garrick blinked.
Then realisation slowly crashed into him.
The confidence.
The precision.
The timing.
And suddenly he remembered his own tone from earlier.
The doubt.
The skepticism.
I misjudged him.
Badly.
Ronan reached the door before pausing.
He glanced back.
"Elira let us into the VIP room."
His gaze remained calm.
"I hope she won't be punished."
Garrick nearly sat upright.
"No. No, of course not."
He waved his hands immediately.
"She did well."
Inside his mind, thoughts raced.
Seventeen? Eighteen?
This boy speaks like he's been negotiating trade for decades.
Alden... Amara... what exactly did you teach him?
Inside Ronan's mind, another thought quietly surfaced.
Sir... your teachings are finally bearing fruit.
As they stepped outside, Garrick suddenly called after them.
"Ronan."
The boy stopped.
Garrick cleared his throat awkwardly.
"...Sorry for my earlier tone."
"Truly."
Ronan looked at him for several moments.
Then nodded.
"You're doing business. I understand."
A tiny smile appeared.
"Maybe I'm just naive."
The words struck harder than expected.
Before Garrick could respond, Ronan reached into his pocket and flicked something forward.
The coin spun through the air.
Garrick caught it instinctively.
Ronan gestured toward their worn clothes.
"A few hours ago, one of your employees took one look at us—"
His eyes lowered briefly toward the dirt and cuts still staining his clothing.
"—and threw that coin at us."
A faint smile rested on his face.
"Said beggars weren't welcome in the Hunter's Boutique."
Garrick closed his eyes.
...Wonderful.
There goes my second impression, too.
Ronan's smile widened slightly.
Beside him, Darius stepped forward with complete seriousness.
"You might want to hold a seminar."
Garrick blinked.
Darius nodded solemnly.
"'How to Spot a High-Value Customer in Ripped Clothing: A Beginner's Guide.'"
Ronan added immediately:
"Include a chapter called 'How Not to Throw Coins at Potential Clients.'"
Silence.
Then Garrick gave a painfully awkward laugh.
"Ahaha..."
He scratched the back of his head.
"...Duly noted."
Inside, he sighed.
Two teenagers half my age just schooled me in business and manners.
I really did mess this up.
If Alden hears about this...
That old man will laugh himself hoarse for a week.