Behind him, the Duke was still standing in the middle of the wrecked room, silently examining the fox stone.

Sykelion didn’t bother saying anything else. For the sake of both his dignity and survival rate, it was better to retreat while the Duke was calm.

So he limped toward the door.

Each step produced a quiet tap... drag... tap... drag...

Halfway there, he stepped on a piece of broken wood.

"—Ow."

He kicked it aside.

Finally, he reached the door, pulled it open, and stepped out into the hallway.

The moment he crossed the threshold, he quietly shut the door behind him.

Sykelion stood there for a moment, leaning against the wall like a man who had just survived a natural disaster.

Which, technically speaking, he had.

He exhaled slowly.

"...I deserve a medal."

Or at least a medical team.

After gathering what little composure he had left, he raised his cracked OmniSync device near his face.

The sleek, palm-sized device flickered to life with a soft hum.

A translucent interface unfolded in the air in front of him.

Several notifications immediately popped up.

23 missed alerts.

7 work reports.

1 urgent message from Finance about ’structural damage expenses.’

Sykelion squinted at the last one.

"...I’m not opening that." 𝚏𝕣𝐞𝗲𝐰𝕖𝐛𝐧𝕠𝕧𝚎𝚕.𝐜𝚘𝗺

He swiped it away with the confidence of someone who absolutely planned to pretend the message never existed.

Then he tapped the familiar icon.

StrataLink

The empire’s most chaotic marketplace.

Sykelion tapped the screen a few times until the familiar storefront appeared.

Crimson Snow Atelier

Minimal design. White background. A crimson snowflace motif interwoven with a crescent arc in the corner.

He scrolled down to see the discussion thread full of very confused buyers.

"Why does this carving work better than the ones I paid a Grand Master for?"

"Where can I meet this shop owner?"

"Does the owner have their own shop at the Regional Network District?"

"Please restock. My husband turned into a wolf again."

Sykelion snorted.

"Looks like we’re not the only desperate customers."

Sykelion opened the message tab.

A blank chat box appeared.

He cracked his knuckles dramatically.

"Alright," he muttered. "Let’s see how polite we’re feeling today."

He began typing.

————————————

To: Crimson Snow Atelier

Good morning.

I am contacting you regarding a rush custom order, if you accept commissions.

We would like to commission a fox-shaped energy stone similar to your previous works.

However since we understand that this is a rush and custom order, we would also like for you to arrange a meeting.

Kindly provide:

- Your preferred meeting location- Available date and time- Indicate price

————————————

Then he pressed Send.

The message disappeared.

A small notification popped up:

Message Sent. Awaiting Response.

He leaned his shoulder against the wall and watched the screen.

A few seconds passed.

Then—

Ping.

A small notification appeared.

————————————

From: Crimson Snow Atelier

As of now, I am not accepting commissions. However, if you happen to be wealthy enough to meet my demands and can provide what I want, I might reconsider it.

Here are my requirements:

☐ The client must supply the material themselves. I don’t do charity.

☐ There is a premium for "custom" orders, an even higher fee for "rush" jobs, and a separate charge for the time I spend carving the energy stone.

☐ I need to personally see your beast form to carve the energy stone you desire. No exceptions.

☐ You may visit my shop at the Regional Network District, or I can grace you with my presence at your residence — but be prepared to pay extra.

If you can check off all these boxes, then perhaps I’ll entertain your request.

The starting fee for commissions is 2,000 IC — excluding any other "fees" I see fit to charge.

————————————

Sykelion stared at the message for a long, painful moment.

Then blinked.

Then blinked again.

He leaned even closer to the screen as if the words might rearrange themselves into something more reasonable.

They did not.

"...The audacity."

He straightened slowly, clutching the OmniSync like it had personally betrayed him.

"The absolute, breathtaking, shameless audacity of this shop owner."

He reread the message.

Then scoffed.

"...If you happen to be wealthy enough to meet my demands and can provide what I want, I might consider it."

He pointed accusingly at the floating text.

"Who writes that to a potential client?!"

A passing servant walking down the hallway slowed slightly when they saw Sykelion arguing with thin air.

He ignored them.

His eyes dropped to the list again.

"The client must supply the material themselves. I don’t do charity."

Sykelion snorted. "Reasonable... I suppose. Can’t argue with principle, I guess. Still—what a way to start a list."

Next line.

"There is a premium for ’custom’ orders, an even higher fee for ’rush’ jobs, and a separate charge for the time I spend carving the energy stone."

Sykelion’s eyes bulged. He raised a shaky hand and counted aloud. "Custom fee... rush fee... carving fee... what’s next, a breathing fee?"

His eyes scanned downward.

Then stopped.

"I need to personally see your beast form to carve the energy stone you desire. No exceptions.I need to personally see the client’s beast form."

Sykelion froze.

"...You want to see the Duke’s beast form?"

He slowly lowered the OmniSync.

"Are you trying to die?"

Because the "client" in question was currently a powerful Duke whose beast form had just destroyed half his bedroom.

Not exactly the kind of person who casually posed for artisans.

Then his gaze moved to the final condition.

"You may visit my shop at the Regional Network District, or I can grace you with my presence at your residence—but be prepared to pay extra."

Sykelion sighed.

"Of course there’s an additional fee."

He rubbed his temple.

"Why am I not surprised?"

Then he read the final line.

"The starting fee for commissions is 2,000 IC — excluding any other "fees" I see fit to charge."

His expression had gone completely blank.

"...Two thousand."

He lifted the device again.

"Starting."

Then he pointed at the screen again.

"And that’s before the other fees."

He began pacing slowly down the hallway, still limping slightly.

"This lunatic carver."

He shook his head.

"Custom fee."

"Rush fee."

"Carving fee."

"Travel fee."

"Probably breathing fee."

He stopped.

Then suddenly burst out laughing.

"...Oh."

"Oh this is bold."

"Extremely bold."

He turned back toward the Duke’s door.

Behind it was the most powerful Renardon in the empire.

A man whose single tail strike could send him flying across a room.

And this unknown shop owner had the courage to casually write:

"If you happen to be wealthy enough to meet my demands and can provide what I want, I might consider it."

Sykelion slowly nodded.

"...I respect that level of arrogance."

He glanced back down at the message.

"Actually no."

"I admire it."

Then his expression shifted again.

"...But still."

He pointed accusingly at the screen once more.

"The audacity!"

He leaned against the wall again, thinking.

After a few seconds, he sighed.

"Still... the stone worked."

He looked down the hallway toward the Duke’s door.

The memory of being strangled earlier was still very fresh in his mind.

"...Very well."

He opened the message window again and began typing.

But halfway through typing his reply, he paused.

Then slowly looked back at the door behind him.

"...Actually."

He rubbed his chin.

"This might be above my salary level."

Because the shop owner had specifically written:

"I need to personally see the client’s beast form."

Sykelion stared at that line again.

"...I am absolutely not the one explaining that request."

He turned around.

Then limped back to the door.

Because if someone was going to tell the Duke that a mysterious internet artisan demanded to see his beast form in person—

It certainly wasn’t going to be done without backup.

~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~

I was sitting at my desk, tail tucked under my body, one paw resting lazily on the table as I stared at my OmniSync screen.

Two tabs were open.

On the left: Customer reviews.

On the right: Messages.

Specifically, a horrifying number of messages.

Apparently, every beastkin in the empire had collectively decided that today was the day they needed a custom energy stone.

My paws moved quickly across the screen as I sent the same reply again.

Copy.

Paste.

Send.

Next message.

Copy.

Paste.

Send.

Next message.

By the twentieth identical reply, I had stopped even reading the customers’ questions.

Someone could have asked me to carve a lion the size of a castle and I would still have replied with the same message.

Meanwhile, the other tab kept updating with new reviews.

————————————

Username: IDontNeedItReally

Rating: ★★★★★

"Best energy stone I’ve ever bought."

Username: BrokeAndProud

Rating: ★★★★★

"Worked better than the one carved by an Adept Carver ."

Username: UnnecessaryAddict

Rating: ★★★★★

"My husband finally stopped experiencing insomnias."

...

...

————————————

I leaned back, satisfied.

"Good," I muttered to myself.

Positive reviews meant two things.

First: customers were happy.

Second: prices could absolutely go up later.

Once I finished replying to the last message, I finally stretched my body.

"Done."

I closed the message tab and looked up.

Directly in front of me, across the room—

Soren was still asleep.

He was sprawled across the bed like a very large, very expensive blanket. One arm hung off the side while his black hair was slightly messy against the pillow.