“How many people has she freaking trained?” I murmured to myself angrily.

“Did you say something, Highness?” Clair asked, turning toward me.

Realizing I’d spoken out loud, I scratched the back of my head and chuckled. “Oh, no… Nothing important.”

Clair wasn’t the only one staring at me. The rest of the workers in the tailor shop were giving me looks too. I didn’t blame them. If my constant blanking out or talking to myself wasn’t a sign that I was weird, I didn’t know what was.

Even though several days had passed since my conversation with Valtair, I still found myself bothered by the revelation that he’d been keeping tabs on me a few years back. Adding to my unease, I also discovered that he and William, the guild master of the adventurer guild in Elysium, had once been sparring partners under Dahlia’s tutelage.

Which begged the question; how many people has Dahlia bloody trained?

For some inexplicable reason that escaped my memory, I had spent the past couple of years believing I was one of the privileged few who had trained under Dahlia. However, this revelation shattered that illusion. If Dahlia’s claims about her age were accurate, it meant that I was likely just one of the countless students she had taught over her three-thousand-year lifespan.

“I just want you to know that you sound like a spoiled child,” Solomon informed me.

Ok, now I’m starting to get angry… Why the hell do you keep reading my mind?!

“I’m not reading your mind, Lucian,” Solomon responded. “It’s more like I can read in between the lines of what you’re thinking and feeling.”

Annoyed by Solomon’s words, I shook my head and redirected my attention back to the mirror. I was trying out one of the winter jackets Clair had ordered for me a few days back.

The jacket was a blend of practicality and style. It was mostly black, resembling more of a winter cloak than the jackets I was used to. A thick cape cascaded down to my heels, adorned with fur that graced my neck and shoulders. One shoulder boasted white fur, while the other showcased black.

“You do realize I’ll stand out if I wear this?” I asked, turning to Clair.

“That’s exactly what I’m hoping for,” she replied.

“Are you trying to get me killed?!”

Clair rolled her eyes. “Now, why would you say that?”

“Well, because if I saw someone wearing this on the battlefield I’d interpret it as: please kill me.”

“Well then it’s a good thing you won’t be on a battlefield anytime soon,” Clair snapped. "You'll be going north to train, not to fight."

“That’s debatable.”

As I examined the jacket more carefully, I noticed some modifications had been made. I recognized that the cape had an inner layer of fire-resistant wool, and I also noticed that two silver pauldrons had been sown beneath the fur on the shoulders.

“I see you’ve made a couple of modifications,” I remarked, gesturing to the silver pauldrons.

Clair nodded, a knowing smile tugging at her lips. “I figured you’d appreciate those.”

“I do. Thanks for adding these.”

“You’re very welcome.” Clair smiled before turning her attention back to the tailor.

I watched as Clair gave the old lady instructions on how she wanted my second coat to look. Although I’d been against the idea, Clair had gone over me and managed to convince my mother it’d be a good idea to carry two coats in case of emergencies. To make matters worse, my mother then proceeded to request duplicates of nearly everything I was going to pack. Just like that, my plan to travel light went down the drain.

“I’m going to go fetch the boots I ordered for you,” Clair said before disappearing around the corner.

“Okay.”

Turning to look at my reflection, I couldn’t help but wish my hair was longer. In my previous life, I'd always kept it short. That’s why in this life, I was determined to let it grow. The longest it had ever been was just after I returned from Dahlia’s estate. If I recall correctly, my hair had been just about an inch from my shoulder. Unfortunately, it was around that time when my mother forced me to cut it.

Cynthia had a strong dislike for long hair. Not a month would pass without her insisting on trimming my hair. Like Clair, she was also adamant about keeping me “well-groomed.”

Stepping closer to the mirror, I studied my face, scrutinizing the changes that had occurred over the past two years.

The tan I once carried had faded away, leaving my skin paler than before. My facial features had become sharper, resembling more and more like Valtair’s with each passing day—a fact that filled me with a strange mixture of anger and discomfort.

On the other hand, the parts of my face that came from my mother I welcomed happily.

As I continued to stare at my reflection, I couldn’t shake the feeling of unease that settled in the pit of my stomach. Despite the outward changes, I couldn’t help but wonder if I was still the same person on the inside. Although it’d only been nine years since my reincarnation, it felt like an eternity had passed since I last saw my face… My old face… The face of Victor Drake…

*         *         *

My eyes snapped open the instant I felt the carriage come to a halt.

“Is this the place?”

“Yes, Highness,” Clair replied.

I stepped out of the carriage and paused to take a look around. We were in the merchant district, a few miles west of the palace. The streets were bustling with adventurers, merchants, and ordinary civilians. For a Tuesday morning, the streets seemed busier than usual. Probably had something to do with the new apparel shop opening last week.

As I glanced at the merchant stalls that lined the street, a small crowd of people caught my attention. Even from afar, I could tell they weren’t demons. They were smaller and had green skin. I also noticed they were carrying large amounts of luggage.

“Are those goblins?”

Clair nodded.

“What are they doing here?”

“If I recall correctly, they are workers brought from Baltur to work on the farms.”

“Are you talking about the farms that are just outside of the city?”

“Yes.”

“How peculiar…”

Why am I not surprised demons are too lazy to do the hard work themselves…

I waited for Solomon to make some sort of sarcastic remark but he didn’t.

Realizing I was wasting time, I shook my head and redirected my gaze to the building in front of me. That’s why I was here. I was here to meet someone. Someone who’d piqued my interest a while back.

When we entered the building, a young orc welcomed us and led us to what looked to be a meeting room. Judging from the fancy suit he was wearing, I gathered he was working as a butler.

“My master will be joining you shortly. Please feel free to sit here until he does,” the young orc said, pointing to the nearest couch.

I gave Clair a nod and the two of us moved to sit on the couch.

“Would any of you like something to drink? Some tea perhaps?” The butler suggested.

Clair shook her head. “I’ll be fine, thank you.”

I, on the other hand, definitely needed something to drink. Although I’d never been much of a tea drinker, after the crappy sleep I was getting lately, the idea seemed appealing.

“I’ll have some tea, please.”

“Right away, sir.” The butler nodded before disappearing around the corner.

When the butler walked back into the room, he was carrying a tray of cookies and what looked like a cup made of gold.

After placing the tray on the table in front of us, he passed me the cup before moving to stand by the entrance.

Oh, wow… This cup is definitely made of gold.

I stared at the tea for a moment before I decided to take a sip. It wasn’t bad. In fact, it was surprisingly sweet. It tasted nothing like the tea Debbie had once made for me, where she mistakenly used salt instead of sugar.

I was about halfway through my tea when the doors burst open and a buff, muscular orc entered the room. Unlike the butler who seemed young, the tall orc looked to be about forty, maybe fifty, and his skin was a dark shade of grey. Despite his age, just by looking at his physique, I could tell he was still in his prime.

Placing the cup down, I looked up at the orc and smiled. “I’ve been looking forward to meeting you! You must be Gorem Armstrong.”

I noticed Clair nod subtly beside me, signaling that this was indeed Gorem Armstrong.

Gorem smiled as he took a seat on the sofa across from us. “You honor me with your presence, Highness.”

“Please, call me Lucian.”

“Are you sure, Highness? Many of the nobles I’ve met are very inclined to speak formally.”

I waved him off. “I’m not them. I’m different… I’ve never been a fan of formal talk.”

“I see… Well, if that’s what you want, then your wish is my command.”

I like him… I can tell he has experience dealing with demon nobles.

“Would you like something else to eat?” Gorem asked, noticing neither of us was eating the cookies the butler had brought. “I can get my nephew to bring you whatever you like.”

“That’s your nephew?” I asked, pointing at the butler.

Gorem nodded and gestured him to come forward. “Yes, he is… He just started working for me a few months ago… Please introduce yourself, nephew.”

The young orc placed his hand on his chest and bowed formally. “My name is Larak. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Highness.”

“You don’t have to be formal either, Larak,” I chuckled.

“Oh, okay…”

It was obvious Larak wasn’t used to socializing as much as his uncle. He seemed to be more shy and reserved. Which was good. It meant he was smart. Life in Valoria was tough, especially if you weren’t a demon. If anyone knew how prevalent racism was in this city, it was me.

“So, what brings you to my humble establishment?” Gorem inquired. It seemed he wanted to get down to business.

“I was told you run one of the most successful pawn shops in Valoria.”

“Is that all you were told?”

“No,” I replied. “I’m also aware you’ve spent years building an impressive and extensive network of information… There isn’t a single thing that happens in this city without you knowing.”

“I see…” Gorem put his hand on his chin and gazed at the table as if lost in thought. “I’m honestly surprised someone as important as you has heard of me.”

I shrugged.

“May I just ask one question, Lucian?”

I nodded.

“Am I in trouble or something?”

“No. You’re not.”

Gorem let out a sigh of relief. “Good. I’m glad to hear that… Well, seeing that you know so much about me, I’m guessing you want something. What can I help you with?”

“I didn’t come here because I want something for you. I came here because I have a proposal.” I raised my index finger in the air.

“A proposal?”

“Yes.”

I nodded at Clair, who pulled out a folder from her bag and passed it to Gorem.

Gorem opened the folder and began to scan through the documents we’d put in place. To be honest, if it wasn’t for Clair, I would have never been able to finish these documents in time. The last couple of days had been hectic. Especially with all the shopping Clair and I had been doing.

Seated across the sturdy wooden table, I watched Gorem intently as he perused the contents of my proposal. His brow twitched at certain points, a subtle sign betraying the undercurrent beneath his composed facade.

I could tell he was nervous. Although he was good at hiding it, I saw through him. Regardless, it was just one more confirmation that he was just as smart as I believed he was. It was obvious he knew how to wiggle his way around a stressful situation.

After what felt like an eternity, Gorem carefully placed the folder on the desk, his piercing gaze meeting mine. “So you want to open up a store, and you want my help?”

I nodded, maintaining eye contact. “Not just help. I want us to be partners.”

Gorem shook his head, a hint of skepticism clouding his expression. “I apologize if this offends you, but could you please explain why you want me as a partner? I’m sure you’re well aware there are plenty of other merchants with much more resources than me.”

“Oh, I’m aware… The reason I want to partner up with you is because I respect you, Gorem. What you’ve created, especially in a city as corrupt as Valoria, is nothing short of incredible.”

“Really?”

“Yes… And I also know you’re the only successful businessman in all of Valoria who isn’t a demon. While the nobility in this country may not acknowledge it, I’m aware of how difficult this world can be for those who aren’t demons. I've seen the racism and oppression that pervades our society, and I aspire to change it one day. That’s why I’m here. That’s why I chose you!”

“Forgive me… I’m honestly dumbfounded,” Gorem said, his jaw dropping open.

The silence lingered for a moment before Clair, ever observant, decided to join the conversation. “We’re also aware of your recent troubles with the Lagaris family.”

Gorem’s gaze darkened. “You’ve heard about that too?”

Clair and I nodded.

“I’ve tried asking for help but nobody seems to believe my story… Count Theon Lagaris has been spreading false rumors about me these last couple of months all because I didn’t sell him a magical tool that I’d already sold to another noble.”

“Don’t worry. We’re well aware of the situation,” I reassured him. I picked up the cup of tea and took another sip.

“That prick is trying to bulldoze my business… If he wasn’t a Count, I wouldn’t have allowed him to get away with it.”

“I understand that you’re angry… I would be too. I just want to clarify that if you agree to this partnership, you’ll have the full backing of House Darkbourn.”

Gorem’s eyes widened as he took in my words. The weight of such an alliance, especially given his recent struggles, was a lot to process. I wouldn’t blame him for not trusting a demon.

“What if I refuse?” Gorem asked after a moment.

I maintained my composure, meeting his gaze evenly. “Unlike other demons, I won’t force or do anything to you if you refuse my offer. You’re a free man, Gorem. This is your decision.”

Gorem closed his eyes, exhaling deeply as he processed the weight of the decision before him. When he opened his eyes again, his gaze met mine with newfound resolve. “I agree to your proposal, Lucian. I look forward to working with you.”

Leaning forward, I shook his Gorem’s hand and smiled. “I’m glad to hear that… I’m guessing you want to hear more information about the store I want to open?”

Gorem chuckled. “I’m all ears.”

“Have you ever heard of trickle berries?”

Gorem shook his head.

Leaning forward, I animatedly gestured while explaining to Gorem the marvels of trekle berries. I detailed their healing properties and how they could replenish mana, leaving no aspect untouched. Transitioning seamlessly, I delved into my vision for a store, stressing the significance of establishing a brand.

“Imagine a store where patrons can enjoy refreshing beverages and powerful potions, all crafted from these berries…” I painted the picture, excitement bubbling within me.

Throughout my explanation, Gorem remained silent but attentive, his expression unreadable. As I finished outlining my plan, he finally spoke up.

“Have you thought of a name for this store?”

“Yeah. It’s going to be called Eden.”

“I see…” Gorem scratched his head before asking another question. “If trekle berries are indeed as popular as you claim in Everlorn, what’s to stop someone else from acquiring them and selling them here in Valoria?”

I chuckled softly, a smirk tugging at the corners of my lips. With a snap of my fingers, Clair nodded in understanding, producing another document from her bag and passing it to Gorem.

Gorem’s eyes widened as he scanned the contents of the document. “Is this what I think it is?!”

“Indeed it is,” I answered. “We are the only ones in all of Azurax that hold exclusive rights to selling trekle berry products.”

“How… how did you manage to secure such an arrangement?” he inquired, curiosity evident in his voice.

I shrugged nonchalantly, a glint of mischief in my eyes. “Let’s just say I have some friends in Everlorn who owe me a few favors.”