Elsa hadn't slept this comfortably in a long time.
The conditions in the Dragon Nest were nice, but it wasn't a Human city. There was always a lingering lack of security.
There were no goblins or Ghosts around, either. It wasn't that she was prejudiced, but they were just so unnerving to look at.
She stretched contentedly.
To her left, warm sunlight spilled across the covers, lifting her spirits.
To her right, a gnarled, brownish-green face was grinning menacingly…
'What am I seeing?'
Elsa shook her head, forcing herself fully awake. It wasn't a dream.
A sharp nose, slitted pupils, and a wide-open mouth full of jagged teeth. Was this a goblin?
Ren 82!
"When did you get here?"
"Arrived night. Renovate toy store. Daytime, cannot appear."
Twin Tower City nominally welcomed all races, but if a group of goblins showed up on a commercial street in broad daylight, any shop they entered could kiss its business goodbye for the day.
Prejudice wasn't overt, but it was ever-present.
"Then how did I not hear a thing?"
"Undead. Cursed you. Hearing, gone."
"..."
'It's hard to process that the first time I've ever been cursed was just so I could sleep,' Elsa thought. 'Oh well, at least their intentions were good.'
"Thank the Undead for me."
Elsa stepped out of the bedroom to find the building completely transformed. Her subordinates' work efficiency was as high as ever.
The first-floor walls were painted pure white. Other than a few long wooden tables, there was no other furniture.
A Yo-Yo was placed on the tables every thirty centimeters, each resting on an elegant stand. Below, a small white card listed the name and price.
Most were priced between a few and Several Copper Coins. According to Zog's plan, new Yo-Yo models would be released in sync with the manga's plot. First, he'd use the low-priced ones to open up the market. Once it became a pop-culture phenomenon, he would sell special editions at luxury prices.
In the Taiser language, the word for "popular" was also used to describe contagious diseases, which made its placement before "culture" feel quite fitting.
Zog often came up with these kinds of strange yet apt descriptions.
Along both walls were several rows of wooden shelves, filled with Yo-Yo strings, gloves, and storage bags, all sorted by color like a rainbow.
It looked less like a toy display and more like a showcase for High Tier Magic Equipment.
The second floor was divided into several private rooms for custom paint jobs and special effect services, with prices measured in Gold Coins.
Elsa could never have imagined that the Illusion Technique she used to fool Kobolds could be worth so much money.
In one of the rooms on the second floor, she saw someone unexpected.
It was the Half-Elf guide from yesterday.
The dark circles under Toto's eyes were so severe she looked like she might drop dead at any moment. She stood listlessly in the center of the room, clutching a Firepower Warrior.
'She couldn't figure it out. Was forcing people to play with toys some new hobby the nobles had invented out of boredom?'
'Weren't the "toys" involved in jobs like this supposed to be... different?'
'Two Zor stood behind her, a Sub-Dragon in front of her, and a goblin in a suit beside them. She'd never seen such a bizarre combination. This wasn't a toy store; it was a den of thieves!'
"Magic Ball."
'She was starting to understand. The Dragon was the leader, and the goblin was its interpreter.'
She recalled the motions.
Sleeper. She flipped the Yo-Yo with her index finger, wound the string with her other hand, brought her hands together, then retracted and released it again.
"Not bad. Rock the Baby."
"Eiffel Tower."
"Launch."
...
The tricks grew increasingly complex.
Tiny beads of sweat dotted Toto's forehead. She was running out of tricks she knew.
"Cross Bounce."
Lift the string, catch it, wrap it, bounce, switch hands, catch the Yo-Yo, bounce again…
'Oh no!'
Toto's hand trembled. The Yo-Yo's trajectory shifted, and it scraped against the string as it fell. She missed the catch.
CLICK.
She heard the sound of a Hand Crossbow being cocked behind her.
The room fell silent.
'It's over. I'm really not going to see the sun tomorrow.'
A few seconds later, a Contract was slapped down in front of her.
"Getting this good with a Firepower Warrior in one night is impressive. Starting now, you're a clerk at this toy store. Your base salary will be Three Silver Coins a month. For every new trick you invent that isn't on that list, you'll get a bonus of Five Silver Coins."
Zog's own Yo-Yo skills were only at a top-tier elementary school level. He didn't know many tricks and desperately needed someone who could invent new ones, or else the manga's plot couldn't move forward.
Toto's performance was genuinely amazing, though. The shape of the Firepower Warrior made string tricks extremely difficult.
'He was curious to see what kind of insane tricks could be developed in a world with Extraordinary Power.'
"You're here," Zog said, noticing Elsa at the door after he finished with the Half-Elf. "Time to go find a Painter."
Zog actually knew several other languages, but the physical structure of the Dragon Race made it impossible for him to produce the sounds. He had no choice but to bring Elsa along as his mouthpiece.
He wasn't looking for a famous artist; any Ordinary Painter would do.
They went to a street where portrait Painters gathered and found the shop with the least business.
'The fact that he had a shop proved he had a basic level of skill. Bad business probably meant his skill wasn't that high, which would make it easier to negotiate the price down.'
In fact, ever since the invention of the camera, business had been slow for portrait Painters.
The camera was a product of a joint research and development effort between the Science and Technology Society and the Mage Association.
Scientists provided the mechanical structure and optical components, while Mages refined the photosensitive materials.
Everyone was excited about the new invention—everyone except the community of Painters.
The most common job for Painters here was painting portraits, a task where artistic expression was forbidden. The more lifelike the portrait, the happier the client.
Now, that job had been completely usurped by photography.
Of course, some would casually say that any Painter who couldn't adapt deserved to be left behind by society.
But for the individual, change was never easy.
Zog and Elsa walked into the shop.
DING-A-LING—
The bell on the door chimed. The hunched-over Painter sitting before an easel shot to his feet. His bloodshot eyes flew open wide, making him look like a patient experiencing a final burst of life before death.
"Hello! What type of portrait do you need? I specialize in oil painting, and I'm skilled in every angle..."
"That won't be necessary."
Hearing Elsa's words, the Painter's shoulders slumped instantly. He asked in a hoarse voice, "Won't you at least take a look? This whole wall is covered with my sample paintings."
"I don't need a portrait. I need someone to draw a manga."
"A manga?"
The Painter's expression was conflicted. He knew what a manga was, but he was an artist. 'Artists don't draw manga,' he thought. At least, that's what he believed.
"Yes, a manga. I have the story drafts here, and I'll give you new ones every week. It's a long-term job."
The Painter wrung his hands, conflicted. A long-term job was very appealing. His peers were all struggling, and you couldn't eat your artistic ideals.
But if he really started drawing manga, he was sure to be looked down on by his teacher and friends. And if the industry ever recovered, he'd never be able to get back into his old circle.
"You're eating black bread."
"What?"
Elsa's sudden comment left the Painter baffled.
She pointed to a half-eaten loaf of black bread on the table.
That stuff wasn't for eating. It was tough, with a sour, fermented taste, and it would coat your throat on the way down. Just swallowing it was an ordeal.
"I remember Painters used to use black bread to smudge their charcoal drawings. Now you're eating it."
The Painter was embarrassed, regretting that he hadn't put the bread away.
Elsa delivered the finishing blow. "So you don't have a choice. Or, I could just find another Painter on this street who doesn't want to eat black bread anymore."
In the end, the Painter agreed. Drawing a manga was better than eating coal dust in a Factory.
He also requested to remain uncredited. Zog sincerely hoped the man wouldn't regret that decision in the future.
As it turned out, a hungry Painter was astonishingly efficient.
He finished the first chapter in just three days, faster than a manga artist from a certain island nation on Earth, even one with assistants.
Strong and powerful. So damn strong and powerful.
After checking it over and finding no issues, Zog submitted it directly to every newspaper in the city, stating that he required no payment and that they were free to reprint it and create derivative works.
The whole point was to promote the Yo-Yo, so naturally, the more publications it appeared in, the better. Every person who saw it was a potential new Yo-Yo player.
「Two days later」
The first serialized manga in the history of the Feilin Continent, *Firepower Young King*, officially began its run.