It is a warm day, as usual. Rosa stands behind the counter of her shop, waiting for a customer she hopes will be ensnared by the wonder of her wares. Sunlight slants perfectly through the window, making the displays glow. On her table rests a wind glyph and a cooling glyph, the gentle breeze they produce keeping the heat of the day at bay.
The room is filled with her craft—things made with her own hands, her own heart. Shelves along one wall hold neat rows of potions. The center table gleams with mana stones, gems, minerals, and the occasional magical gadget.
Another wall displays enchanted gear: bows and arrows, swords and daggers, rods and staves. She does not forget armor either—boots, cuirasses, greaves, gloves—fashioned from different materials and imbued with practical enchantments for everyday adventuring. Cooling charms for the heat, goggles that sharpen sight or pierce the dark: all are laid out with care.
Across from her, near the sunlit window, she places glyphs, scrolls of sigils, and arcane tomes. Not only do the beams of light highlight them beautifully, these are the items least likely to be harmed by direct exposure.
She arranges everything with meticulous thought, grouping goods into aisles and subsections so they catch the eye naturally. The counter's glass display holds cheaper items from each section—perfect for last-minute purchases. All of it follows the shopkeeping theories of Heinrich, whose guidebook she studies carefully.
The only rules she refuses to follow are the tricks: false scarcity, flash deals, arbitrary markups and discounts. Such things feel like deceit, and she cannot stomach making sales on a lie. The most she ever does is add a "brand new" tag to fresh items.
Learning from the weeks before, when the heat causes more than one problem in the bustling city, she makes sure to showcase three essentials. Cooling potions, of course. Then water bottles inscribed with chill glyphs. And finally, her work-in-progress project: clothing enchanted to keep its wearer cool.
She does all of that. Meticulously predicting consumption, arranging her stocks according to her notes and theories. And yet, there is one obvious, glaring problem…
Her shop is as empty as a desert.
How is she supposed to know what to stock when almost nobody comes in? How is anyone supposed to make an extra purchase, as Heinrich's theory suggests, if there isn't a single customer in the first place?
Rosa sighs, eyes drifting to the unopened door with growing disinterest. Her finger taps against the counter, steady and impatient, as if echoing the ticking of a clock. If this keeps up, she won't be able to pay the installment this month without taking a quest. That means leaving her shop closed for days, losing what few recurring customers she has. Worse, rumors are already spreading about her shop's inconsistent hours.
Just as her thoughts spiral deeper, the door creaks open. The bell above it chimes, and Rosa's face brightens instantly. She straightens, smiling wide at the sight of an approaching customer. A tall, mature-looking woman steps inside, eyes cold as they fall on the displays. Rosa's smile doesn't falter—she's far too excited at the prospect of finally having someone to serve.
"Welcome to the shop~ How can I help you?"
Her greeting is cheerful as the woman reaches the counter. Rosa has to look up to meet her gaze.
The woman crouches down, leaning closer, and beams a smile.
"Greetings, young lady. Can I talk to the shopkeeper? Are they here?"
Rosa's smile holds, but a vein throbs at her temple, irritation bubbling in her throat. It has been so long since her last customer that she almost forgot how these first encounters always go.
Hello sweetie, can I talk to the shopkeeper?
Are your parents here? I'd like to buy something.
How irresponsible, leaving a child to mind the shop alone.
Wow, starting a shop at such a young age.
Remarks like those. She has heard them all. Not only here at the counter—even walking with Lilia, people mistake her for the younger sister.
Her temple twitches again before she finally replies, voice sharp beneath the politeness.
"You're looking at her. How can I help you?"
The woman's smile falters. Her eyes narrow.
"You're Rosalina Grace? You're much… younger than I heard."
Not even an apology follows.
Rosa forces herself not to sigh. Her palms curl into fists beneath the counter, hidden from view. The vein at her temple throbs again, a small crack in her smile that now feels more forced with every passing second.
"I can assure you, dear customer. Even though this is how I look, I am in fact a proper adult. Besides—" her smile tightens, "I believe you didn't come here to discuss me or my appearance. Or am I wrong?"
The woman pushes herself upright, using the counter for support as her arm hoists her body up. Her gaze drifts left, then right, scanning the aisles as though checking stock. She clears her throat.
"I heard you also deal with material fetching. Is that true?"
Rosa's mind exhales in relief—finally, the business at hand. Her smile softens, her tone turning more cordial. Yet irritation stirs again when she notices the woman's cold, downward glance. Even in conversation, she looks at Rosa as though expecting nothing from her.
"I do, yes. Some customers order custom craftwork or enchantments that require materials I don't keep in stock. In those cases, I offer a retrieval service—for an additional cost, of course. Though it isn't unusual for someone to request only the materials without the craft itself."
The woman leans forward, both hands pressed against the counter, lowering her face until it's level with Rosa's.
"What if the materials only have the potential to be there? I want confirmation—whether what I'm searching for truly exists in the area. If it does, you will bring me a sample."
Rosa tilts her head, resting her chin on her hand as she squints at the unusual request.
"Now this is a first. Usually customers already know what they're after, and where. Hmm…"
Her thoughts drift to past failures. Times she returned empty-handed. Two scenarios always explained it. The first: the item was indeed there, but she lacked the expertise to retrieve it. The second: the information itself was faulty, and the item never existed in the first place.
If it's the first scenario, Rosa has no issue returning the gold in full. If the information is clear as day and she simply fails to retrieve the item, that's on her—for biting off more than she can chew. She knows her limits, even if she sometimes tests them.
It's the second scenario that still stings. When faulty information hides the real danger—like a beast far beyond her skill level—she takes the loss. No refund, no sympathy, no compensation for days of wasted effort. Bitter, unfair, unrewarded. She remembers swallowing that humiliation, the bitter pill catching in her throat. At the very least, she thinks, such risks deserve partial compensation. A fair merchant values time as much as coin. That lesson has burned itself into her, and she is not eager to repeat it.
"Let's see…"
Her hand goes to her chin, eyes narrowing in thought before she fixes them on the woman.
"First, what exactly are we checking? Second, where?"
The reply comes instantly, flat as a beaten path.
"You'll be surveying ores. Any ores. In the Northern Mountain. Specifically, the midpoint along the eastern side."
From her satchel, the woman pulls a folded map and unfurls it across the counter. The paper crackles as it spreads wide, the lines of ink catching the sunlight. Without hesitation, she reaches for Rosa's display potions and plunks them down on the corners as makeshift weights. Glass clinks against wood. Rosa's temple throbs again; her smile tilts into a brittle curve.
Then the woman taps a point—on a mountain drawn upside down from Rosa's perspective. She doesn't even bother to rotate the map.
Rosa exhales through her nose, voice sweet but straining.
"Dear customer, could you at least not use my potions as paperweights?"
The woman stares at her in silence. The stare lingers long enough that Rosa feels her cheeks twitch, the volcano beneath her façade edging toward eruption. Then, without a word, the woman looks back down at the map.
"This region is called Eisenvalt. Unexplored. Potentially one of the largest mineral deposits in the area. List the metals or minerals buried there, especially those with void elements. If you find any void element, bring back a sample."
Rosa arches her brows and starts tapping the counter with her finger. Faster, sharper, each beat echoing her irritation.
"In that case," she says, voice carefully level, "why not ask the Adventurers' Guild? I'm certain plenty of people would leap at the chance to explore it. The Guild has clear regulations for surveys, procedures for reporting findings, not to mention far greater manpower. Whole parties could comb the region at once. It would certainly be faster, wouldn't it? Far more reliable than… hiring a random mage in a random shop."
The woman exhales, long and controlled, her expression unchanging. Her eyes are half-lidded, heavy with disinterest, as if Rosa's words were a play she had already seen a dozen times before.
"This is a private company research," she says at last, tone as flat as iron. "It concerns discreet technology. Naturally, I cannot disclose any further details."
Her fingers glide across the map, tapping once, deliberate. "I expect you to report directly to me if any information regarding ores in the area—especially void elements—comes into your possession. That information must not reach another party, through accident or otherwise. You may bring assistance if you wish, but know this: any breach of discretion falls on you."
Her voice lands like a decree, not a negotiation.
Rosa hums, eyes falling shut as she lets the words settle. Her fingertips rap against the counter in a growing rhythm—tick, tick, tick—faster with each second. She has to chew on this, if only to stop herself from snapping.
"Private. Discreet. Hmm…"
Her eyes snap open again, scarlet gaze locking onto the woman. A bitter smile curls her lips, one that no longer tries to hide her irritation.
"Let me see if I understand this perfectly." Her voice is honeyed, but the sarcasm cuts like glass. "You have a discreet, secret, undisclosable request in an unexplored region with, at best, flimsy information. You want me to find ore that might very well be—let me borrow your favorite word—'potentially' an anti-mage weapon. And because no one reputable would touch such a dubious assignment, you've come here. You need someone moderately skilled, but also desperate enough for coin, to take a job that may as well be a body count waiting to happen."
Her words flow sharper with each beat of her finger against the wood. Tap, tap, tap.
She inhales deeply, shoulders rising, then lowers them in a long, steady breath. "Did I hit the nail?"
For the first time, the client moves differently. Not a smile, not a scowl—but the faintest tightening at the corner of her jaw. A subtle clench, so small another might miss it. Rosa does not. To her, it's the first crack in that icy façade, the first hint that her barbs have landed.
The woman, however, doesn't dignify the jab with a response. She calmly tucks a strand of ashen hair behind her ear, her gaze never softening. When she finally speaks, her voice is as cold as ever, as if Rosa's words had been smoke drifting past her.
"Will you accept it?"
No reaction to the accusation. No rebuttal. Just the question, stripped to its bones.
Rosa, though, is smiling now—no longer the forced, brittle mask she wore earlier, but a sharper grin. She has seen it. That tiny shift, the telltale clench in the woman's jaw. It is enough.
Her smile blooms with confidence, roses unfolding after a storm.
"Depends," Rosa says, narrowing her eyes. "How much are we talking about? Let me tell you now—just going back and forth between here and Eisenvalt will take me at least ten days with a cart. The survey itself? Another five. That's half a month of my time."
A sharp clink echoes through the shop as a heavy bag of coins lands on the counter. Brass discs jostle against one another with a rich, metallic chime before settling with a thud.
"Sharvessaich…"
The word slips out in a whisper. Rosa's crimson irises catch the light, shifting with a faint bluish glow as she inspects the bag. Each coin bears the proper carvings, struck in brass—the unmistakable mark of official Valsgold.
No trace of illusion magic, either. The hidden sigil scroll beneath the counter hums faintly in her senses, confirming her own Sharvessaich spell as the only active enchantment. Nothing is tampering with her sight, her mind, or her judgment.
It's real.
The sheer amount makes her throat tighten. This isn't just enough to cover this month's installment. This covers the next few months, with enough left over for luxuries—maybe even a dozen evenings of sweets. More importantly, it would give her breathing room. Time to keep the shop open, uninterrupted, without scrambling for quests at the end of every month.
"If you're done checking," the woman says, her tone sharp, impatient, "shall we finalize the deal?"
The sudden bite in her voice makes Rosa's ear twitch. She takes a long breath, steadying herself, refusing to let the pressure sink its claws in.
"One last confirmation." Her voice firms, sharper now. "Let's say I do the survey, bring you the list, but find no void elements. What then?"
"As simple as stone," the woman answers without pause. "You will be compensated fully. However, no bonus will be given. Bring me void elements, and you will receive a reward equal to one-third of that bag."
Rosa shuts her eyes, weighing the words. Every part of this stinks. Flimsy details. "Private, discreet" research. An unexplored area. And then this absurd pile of gold dropped in her lap. It is the definition of too good to be true.
Her brain screams no.
But her heart… her heart aches for the chance. If the slim possibility of success exists, it could lift her months closer to her goal. Maybe even change her trajectory entirely.
She breathes out, opens her eyes, and fixes the woman with a sharp, steady gaze. Her lips part.