In the afternoon, on a certain commercial street in the royal capital of a small kingdom—
Loran Morganfleur lounged lazily in a recliner outside his magic item shop.
He looked about thirty. Maybe younger. It was hard to tell. The unshaven stubble on his face added a few years—and a questionable sense of responsibility.
He was sleeping very, very comfortably.
Until—
Yank.
"Ow—ow ow ow! Hey! Who dares ambush me?!"
Loran jolted awake, clutching his ear.
Standing before him was a petite girl of around twelve or thirteen, wearing an apron and holding a broom like a weapon. Her cheeks were puffed up in righteous fury.
"Loran! No sleeping during business hours!"
Charlotte declared, stamping her foot.
Loran squinted at her through half-open eyes.
"Mm… Charlotte… five more minutes…"
"No. Way."
She swung the broom down.
Smack!
…Or at least, that was what should have happened.
Instead, the broom bounced off with a dull thud.
Charlotte blinked.
The small crowd that had gathered to watch blinked.
A thin, translucent membrane shimmered around Loran's body, like a soap bubble catching sunlight.
Loran shot to his feet dramatically.
"Hahaha! You fool! Did you really think I hadn't prepared for this day?"
He struck a heroic pose.
"I present to you—Loran's Special Domestic Defense Model B! Blocks physical attacks and repels dust at the same time! Whether it's broom strikes, flying slippers, or kneeling on pineapples—fear no more!"
The street fell silent.
Loran cupped his hands around his mouth and began shouting like a carnival salesman.
"Are you still living in fear of your wife's righteous wrath? Still trembling before the broom of judgment? Worry no more! For only fifty copper coins—yes, just fifty!—you too can reclaim your dignity!"
Dead silence.
Then, from next door, the apothecary owner coughed awkwardly.
"Ahem. It's not that I'm afraid of my wife or anything," he said stiffly. "It's just… I care about her. I worry she might get dusty while cleaning."
He placed fifty copper coins on the counter.
It was as if enlightenment had descended.
"Ah! Of course!"
"I'm worried she might hurt herself while cooking!"
"I'm concerned she'll get bitten by bugs outside!"
Suddenly, middle-aged men emerged from everywhere, each with a deeply loving excuse.
The emphasis was clear: not fear of their wives.
Love.
Pure, noble love.
By the time they realized they had once again been scammed, Loran and Charlotte were already grinning like a pair of foxes—one big, one small.
"Refund! We want refunds!"
"Ah, ah, ah—" Loran hurriedly grabbed Charlotte's hand and retreated inside. "Small business, gentlemen! No refunds once sold!"
He slammed the door shut.
---
Inside, Charlotte let out a long sigh.
Just a few months ago, she had been a refined, well-behaved young lady.
How had she ended up as an accomplice in Loran's shameless schemes?
I absolutely will not help him with nonsense like this again!
She clenched her tiny fist.
"Charlotte," Loran called cheerfully, "c'mon. Let's eat out tonight."
Her resolve shattered instantly.
"Really?! I want lobster!"
Her eyes sparkled.
---
They slipped out the back door.
As they passed the mailbox, Loran paused for a brief moment.
Charlotte tilted her head. "No letter again?"
"…Kids shouldn't ask too many questions."
Bonk.
He flicked her forehead lightly.
She pouted, rubbing her head, but said nothing more.
Still, she couldn't help being curious.
Ever since he adopted her, he checked the mailbox every single day.
Waiting.
For someone.
Who could possibly matter that much to a carefree person like him?
…A lover?
For some reason, the thought made her chest feel tight.
---
"Charlotte?"
Loran looked back at her. In the golden light of sunset, his stubbled face looked unexpectedly mature.
"Stop spacing out. We'll miss the good seats."
She hurried after him.
---
The most popular restaurant near the street was, without question, Scala's Fine Dining.
It was famous for its food.
Definitely not because the owner was beautiful.
"Ah, my dear Lady Keina," Loran said smoothly the moment they stepped in, "you bloom more radiantly than a purple jacaranda in spring."
Charlotte covered her face.
She glanced at Keina's graceful figure.
Then looked down at herself.
…She could see her toes without obstruction.
Flat.
Completely flat.
It's fine, Charlotte. You're still growing…
"Ara, long time no see, Loran," Keina laughed softly behind her hand. "You're as smooth as ever."
"I assure you, I am not smooth. I merely state facts."
Charlotte grabbed him and dragged him forward.
Even as he was being pulled away, Loran tossed a necklace onto the counter.
"My latest creation. Only something this perfect deserves to rest against your moonlit beauty."
"Loran," Keina smiled, "praising another lady in front of a young one is hardly gentlemanly."
She accepted the necklace anyway.
"Still, thank you."
"Your happiness is my greatest reward."
"LORAN!"
Right. She was angry again.
Loran mimed zipping his lips under Keina's amused gaze and obediently followed Charlotte to their table.
---
She refused to look at him.
He sighed and picked up the menu.
"Wednesday… Ocean Festival. I think cream pudding would be a fine choice."
"…Two."
"Two? Young lady, excessive sweets lead to cavities."
"None of your business!"
"…Very well."
He had, after all, earned her displeasure.
Dessert, at least, could restore peace.
Charlotte swung her legs happily as she ate her cream pudding.
"You really like pudding," Loran said.
She lifted her spoon.
"Do you know its origin?"
"No, actually."
"It was created by Lord Lorian, the mage of the Saint's party, as a birthday gift for the Saint herself! It was her favorite dessert!"
"…I see."
Charlotte's eyes sparkled.
"The Saint once saved a woman who had lost her family. Afraid she'd die in poverty even after being rescued, she asked Lord Lorian to teach her the recipe so she could make a living. When the woman thanked her, the Saint said: 'If someday I can buy this dessert anywhere I go, that will be thanks enough.' That's why pudding spread across all kingdoms!"
"She truly was gentle…"
"The Saint is humanity's strongest! The only living demigod! The supreme authority of the Orthodox Church! The voice of the Seven Gods!"
Loran wiped sweat from his forehead.
"Y-Yes. Indeed."
Luckily, she was too busy eating to notice his tone.
Idol worshippers are terrifying.
---
At a nearby table—
"Did you hear about what happened on Narcissus Street yesterday?"
"They say someone's nose was cut off…"
"Not exactly a slum either. Big case."
Loran cut into his steak and glanced outside.
So it's getting noisy already.
If nothing went wrong—
He would have a visitor tonight.
---
By the time they returned to the shop, the sun had nearly set.
They were about to close when the door opened.
A man in an official uniform stepped inside.
He looked around forty. Stern. Authoritative.
Charlotte quietly excused herself.
"I'll go do my homework."
She knew Loran wasn't ordinary.
She was curious.
But she didn't pry.
Once she went upstairs, Loran's lazy expression faded.
The sunset cast long shadows across the room.
He leaned back in his chair, fingers interlocked, smiling faintly.
"Well then…"
He looked at the man.
"Sir from the Inspectorate."
"What brings you to my humble shop?"