Old Shinkotsu at night was quieter than I expected.
The mana lanterns threw pools of amber across the wooden storefronts while the occasional pedestrian crossed an intersection somewhere ahead without any particular hurry, and somewhere off to my left crickets were doing their thing over the steady sound of running water that I assumed belonged to one of the garden streams cutting through the district.
I had my hand shoved into my haori pockets and walked with a frown that had not moved in the better part of an hour.
The meeting had ended. Chief and Kisho had finalized everything between them, every piece of the structure legal, the loan legal, the land purchase legal, and all that remained was for me to point at which exact thirty hectares west of the city I wanted and start producing Orichalcum until the documents called it square.
On paper, I had gotten exactly what I wanted.
But it felt like swallowing a slimy rag.
