The next morning, the rumor had spread like wildfire.

All across the Industrial Cities, people whispered in excitement — Mina’s Fish Shop was selling Firecarp for a month! Crowds doubled, then tripled. Customers lined up before dawn, while other merchants looked on helplessly as their shops remained empty.

By noon, the once-proud Firecarp merchants were pacing nervously in their mansions, faces pale and eyes hollow. Their ledgers were bleeding red. Warehouses were full of fish no one wanted to buy anymore.

Finally, they snapped.

"Find that Mina woman!" one roared, slamming his fist on the table. "I don’t care if she’s the Dragon King’s daughter — I’ll talk to her myself!"

And thus, a caravan of luxury hover carriages departed that very afternoon, carrying the city’s most powerful merchants — men and women who once controlled trade routes, fleets, and fortunes. Now, they looked like beggars chasing salvation.

---

When they reached Mina’s Fish Shop, the sight made them stop in disbelief.

They tried to enter the shop, but the guards politely blocked the way.

"I’m sorry," one said with a polite smile. "Lady Mina isn’t accepting visitors today."

The merchants exchanged glances, stunned. Rejected? Them? Is it payback because they also rejected their visit before?

"Tell her we’ll pay any price to negotiate!" shouted one of them.

The guard only shook his head. "Lady Mina said she’s too busy selling fish."

The group left in humiliation, their pride crushed.

---

The next day, they came again — this time in smaller numbers.

Only one merchant was allowed to enter. He walked through the simple door, feeling the eyes of his rivals burning into his back.

Inside, the atmosphere was calm. Tyla sat at a low table, sunlight spilling across her silver hair. Beside her, Yumina quietly sipped tea, smiling in that same photo-perfect way that had ruined them.

The merchant bowed deeply. "Lady Mina... I came to discuss—"

Tyla raised a hand. "Let me guess. You want to sell your business before you go bankrupt."

He froze, his words dying in his throat.

Tyla smiled gently. "Don’t look so nervous. I’m not here to ruin you. I’m just here to buy what you don’t need anymore."

Her tone was polite, almost sympathetic, yet her words sliced sharper than any blade.

By the time he left, the merchant’s face was pale, his shoulders slumped. He had sold 51% of his business for half its value — just to survive.

When his carriage rolled away, the others rushed up to him. "What happened? Did she agree to a deal?"

He hesitated, then laughed weakly. "She did... and I wish she hadn’t."

---

The next few days played out the same.

One by one, the merchants came. One by one, they left — half relieved, half destroyed.

Each sale stripped away a piece of their pride. Each contract handed Tyla more control.

By the end of the week, Most Firecarp merchant in the Industrial Cities had either sold their entire business or handed over 51% of their shares to Mina’s Fish Company at half price and some even sold their entire buisness.

And just like that, the empire changed hands — silently, elegantly, ruthlessly.

"Just shut down the businesses we bought entirely," Tyla said casually, waving her hand as if she were swatting away dust. "I don’t have the time—or interest—to manage them."

Her tone carried no hint of concern for the losses.

Yumina, Kurt, and Marco exchanged glances. By now, they were completely numb to her outrageous decisions. Nothing Tyla said could surprise them anymore.

---

Inside the office, Tyla stood before a large map pinned to the wall, red ink circles marking every major fish supplier, trader, and retailer across the city.

"Now," she said, her voice steady as steel, "inform all dealers to resume selling Firecarp at the original price."

Marco, Yumina, and several assistants nodded.

"But make sure they remember this—" Tyla continued, her eyes sharp as frost. "The prices must not increase unless I say so. I don’t want greed spoiling my new market."

Her tone was calm, but the command carried an unmistakable authority that made even the boldest of men hesitate.

"Also," she added, "contact all suppliers. I want exclusive contracts signed by sunset."

"Yes, Lady Boss," Marco said, bowing.

---

Hours later, as the last merchant’s carriage disappeared into the distance, the room finally fell silent.

Marco stood before Tyla, eyes filled with admiration. Then, suddenly, he dropped to one knee.

"That was incredible, Boss Lady," he said, his voice trembling with excitement. "You just took two week — two weeks! — and destroyed the entire Firecarp market, then rebuilt it under your name. Nobody could’ve done that."

Tyla smiled faintly. "It wasn’t destruction, Marco. It was reconstruction."

He raised his head, grinning. "Still, you’re amazing! I swear on my life, I’ll bring you closer to that World Tree Root. No — I promise, I’ll lead you there myself!"

Tyla turned her gaze toward the window. Beyond the bustling streets, the sky glowed with the golden hue of sunset, streaked with crimson clouds.

"Haha... Finally...." Tyla chuckled...

---

Two days later—

A cold wind swept through the white streets of the Industrial Cities as three figures walked out from a glowing teleportation gate.

A girl in a silver mask led the group. Her pale hair shimmered like frost beneath the morning sun— Lanny.

Behind her, a girl with long black horns and draconic eyes adjusted the cloak over her bare shoulders— Zuzia.

And beside her strode a tanned, brown-skinned beauty with a bold turtle tattoo curling from her collarbone across her shoulder, her outfit scandalously revealing despite the falling snow— Myrtle.

Everywhere they passed, people turned to stare. The air around them rippled faintly with energy, an aura that made other folk step aside without realizing why.

Zuzia closed her eyes for a moment, her nostrils flaring slightly as she took in the air. The faint trace of a familiar aura lingered in the snow, buried beneath the scent of steel and smoke.

"Hmmm... I can feel him..." she murmured, her dragon-like pupils narrowing to slits. But then, confusion flickered across her face. "But..."

"But what?" Myrtle asked, glancing at her with curiosity.

Zuzia frowned. "Tyler feels... different."

"Different how?" Lanny asked quietly.

"Hmm... He smells little sweet..." Zuzia said as she scratched her head in confusion.