Another day without business slipped by at Twin Shores.
Atem wiped the counter slowly, even though it was already spotless, he looked like as if he was smoothing down the irritation that had been gathering in his chest for days.
The shop was quiet at this hour, the morning trickle long gone and the afternoon bustle still distant, while sunlight filtered through the front window and illuminated drifting specks of dust that had nowhere else to go.
He liked moments like this—quiet, orderly, predictable—though he would have liked them far more if customers were part of the picture.
The bronze bell rang.
Atem did not look up immediately, because earlier that morning several people had entered, glanced around with awkward expressions, and left without buying so much as a copper's worth of goods.
He no longer had the heart to react too quickly.
"The shop is open," he said evenly, continuing to wipe the counter. "If you're browsing, take your time."
"Still polite," an aged voice remarked, carrying a faint amusement. "Even when the noose is already around your neck."
Atem's hand stopped.
He lifted his head and met Harun's gaze.
The Dock Masters' Union manager stood just inside the doorway, hands clasped behind his back, his posture relaxed to the point of arrogance, while two men flanked him like iron statues, broad-shouldered, thick-armed, one even had an eye batch.
They were not guards meant to intimidate children or drunks.
Atem glanced at them briefly, then returned his attention to Harun.
"You came earlier than I expected," Atem said calmly. "I assumed you'd let me stew for another day."
"Business looks poor," Harun said casually as he looked around the shop.
Atem didn't bother hiding his smile.
"It comes and goes."
"Harbor Authority. Fake complaints. Blocked customers." Harun ticked them off calmly. "And an assassin last night."
Atem's breath paused for half a heartbeat.
So even that didn't stay hidden.
"You're well-informed," he said evenly.
"The docks hear everything. " Harun rolled his eyes.
Atem folded his arms.
"Then you already know why I'm listening."
Harun snorted softly as he stepped further inside. "If I waited, your shop might not last until tomorrow."
Atem smiled faintly, though there was no warmth in it, and Harun did not miss the fact that the boy showed neither fear nor surprise.
"So you've decided," Atem said.
Harun's gaze swept across the shelves, lingering on the empty spaces that should have held fresh stock.
"This isn't a decision made lightly," Harun replied. "Especially when the person involved attracts trouble the way you do."
"Trouble?" Atem's fingers tightened slightly before he relaxed them again. "I have never offended anyone in Azure Harbor, never cheated a customer, never crossed a guild, yet people seem determined to prove that decency is a mistake."
Harun clicked his tongue. "You're still naïve. Weakness is the only crime that actually matters here."
Atem exhaled slowly, the sound controlled. "That lesson has been made painfully clear."
The past few days had stripped away whatever illusions he had left, and he no longer bothered pretending otherwise.
"So," Atem continued, lifting his gaze again, "what did the Union decide?"
Harun stopped walking and turned to face him fully.
"If Twin Shores is to receive Union protection, the Cold Restoration Pill formula must be shared."
"If that's your offer," Atem replied without hesitation, "you can leave now, because there's nothing left to discuss."
Harun frowned, clearly not expecting such an immediate rejection.
"You understand what you're turning down?" he asked.
Atem met his eyes and smiled faintly, mockery curling at the corners. "Perfectly, and I understand even better what you're demanding."
He tapped the counter once, the sound crisp in the quiet shop.
"That formula is the backbone of this place. If it leaves my hands completely, then Twin Shores stops being a shop and becomes a signboard with my name on it."
Harun folded his arms. "The Union doesn't move without compensation."
"And neither do I," Atem replied.
A sharp laugh escaped Harun. "You really do have nerve. Courage and stupidity often look identical."
Atem did not flinch. "If you'd come just to insult me, you wouldn't have come"
Harun's eyes flickered, his attention sharpening in a way it hadn't been before.
"You didn't come here to posture," Atem continued calmly. "Tell me your real offer."
For a brief moment, Harun said nothing, then he exhaled through his nose and shook his head.
"You're troublesome," he muttered. "And far more clear-headed than you were a year ago."
"People adapt when they're cornered," Atem replied.
Harun straightened. "Fine. You keep your shop, and you retain ownership of your formulas."
Atem's eyes flickered, but his expression remained controlled.
"And?" he asked, clearly knowing that there's a follow up.
"The Union takes full overseas distribution rights for your medicines," Harun said. "Sea routes, island ports, long-haul fleets. Inland sales remain yours, and from that, we take fifteen percent annually."
"Overseas?" Atem repeated, brows knitting slightly.
Harun smiled. "You thought merchants only lived on land? Sailors get sick, ships rot crews from the inside out, and no inland guild dares police the open sea properly."
Atem's thoughts raced despite his calm exterior, because this was an angle he had never considered, a market free from guild chokeholds and inland monopolies.
"And the formula?" Atem asked, bringing the conversation back where it belonged.
"You won't hand it over," Harun replied calmly as if this was his intention fom the beginning. "You'll train refiners you personally trust."
Atem's gaze hardened slightly. "And their wages?"
"You pay them."
Atem laughed softly, though there was no humor in it. "So I lose profit twice."
"You lose less than you would if you're buried," Harun shot back.
Atem studied him for a long moment before speaking again.
"Ten percent of overseas profits returns to me."
Harun shook his head without hesitation. "Too much, you will get five."
"Ten," Atem replied just as quickly.
Harun's expression darkened. "Don't overestimate yourself."
Atem's gaze sharpened, "You wouldn't be standing here if I weren't worth the trouble."
The silence stretched longer this time, even the two enforcers seemed to sense the shift in balance.
Finally, Harun sighed and rubbed his temple.
"Seven and don't dream about more."
Atem tilted his head slightly, as if weighing the offer, though the decision had already been made.
"Acceptable."
Harun stared at him, then let out a short, incredulous laugh. "Then we have an agreement."