"Sir, why are we still doing this?"

  "The full examination hasn’t been completed yet, young man." the healer says writing something in his journal while showing me yet another picture.

  Am I some kind of test subject? The thought lingers, but I choose not to voice it. No sense in poking at something consequence of which I don’t want to deal with—especially when I’m not the one footing the bill.

  I still don’t know who’s paying for all this. The army? Or is there some kind of personal interest here?

  Doesn’t matter.

  All I know is that I walk in, I get checked by a very skilled healer, and I leave without handing over a single coin.

  The only thing I do have to pay for so far are the sleeping tablets. And those have been very helpful.

  "Sir, I see the pattern in these new pictures... And yes, the movement of eyes and eyebrows helps somewhat but it still isn’t enough... I mean... I just usually try to match it with what I’ve seen before, that's why some expressions are easier. Shock and confusion I recognize, the wide-open mouth with wide eyes or a short pause in movement or furrowed eyebrows, but that’s it."

  "Hm. I see... So would you say you’re better with the emotions of the upper part of the face, like eyes and eyebrows?"

  I groan.

  "Sir. Again. It’s not about the area. It’s about the pattern. As I said, I try to match what I see with what I’ve encountered before. Um... Like... Well... Okay, let’s get back to shock as an example. When I repel a powerful attack, enemies usually have this same expression, the one mentioned before ‘wide-open mouth and eyes' while they look at me, which I believe to be shock` or surprise. Or...um... here’s another, when I keep dodging attacks my opponents start slowly furrowing their eyebrows, narrowing eyes, and scrunching their noses which as far as I understand is frustration and anger."

  There’s a pause.

  "You keep saying you ‘believe’ or ‘think’ that’s what those emotions are like they’re an abstract thing... Have you ever experienced them yourself, at least those specific ones you just mentioned?" the healer says slowly, furrowing his eyebrows.

  "Well...uh... yes?"

  "Then why is there a doubt what those emotions are?"

  "Because I know what those emotions are and know how they feel, but how can I be sure how they visually manifest?"

  Another pause as the healer's eyes move over my face. He adds a few more words to the journal.

  "Have you ever tried to simulate those emotions while you’re in front of a mirror and observe how your own face changes?"

  "What? How? I mean I can grimace in front of a mirror if that’s what you’re asking, but those won’t be emotions, just random movement of facial muscles."

  He blinks several times and slowly nods.

  "Random huh... Hmm... I see... What about, no, let’s go the other way... You said you know ‘anger’, how it feels and looks, is that right?"

  I nod.

  "Have you tried to reproduce that in front of a mirror?"

  I pause, trying to understand what he means.

  "Sir... I can move my facial muscles, and attempt to replicate the manifestation of anger I’ve seen on someone else's face, but that won’t be real emotion..."

  The healer furrows his eyebrows again.

  "You keep using ‘emotion’ and its ‘manifestation’ as if the feeling and expression on your face are two separate things and aren’t connected."

  "Are they?"

  The healer blinks once as his face freezes in an unreadable frown, only to return to a blank expression as he writes something in his journal.

  "Let’s return to ‘anger’ again... You said you know how it feels to experience it."

  "Yes." I reply wearily.

  "What about its ‘manifestation’? What do you think happens to your face when you yourself get angry?"

  "Won’t it be similar to what happens to everyone else? I mean how would I know? I feel when some of the muscles on my face move but I don’t walk around with a mirror in front of my face to observe and verify it myself."

  The healer pauses, blinks, and after several moments starts nodding and hastily writing something in his journal.

  Shit.

  It seems that it was the wrong answer...

  ...

  "Sir, your slot in two weeks is still valid, and currently there are no earlier slots available. In fact, there’s quite a backlog."

  "Then find one somehow! I’ve already waited a whole week! You can’t expect me to wait even more just to buy some god damn sword! That’s unacceptable!"

  After a short pause, I reply while looking at the person in total detachment.

  "There’s not much I can do, I’m just one person. And you were notified of the expected wait time during the initial meeting." I say, trying to be as professional and polite as I can. "You can always cancel your order."

  I slowly pick up my journal and start flipping over pages with names, dates, prices, and order details, until I find the correct one and turn back to the fuming customer. I don’t even get to ask for confirmation as he proceeds to send a torrent of profanities my way.

  I quietly stand and nod all while counting. The person seems to get even more infuriated by my reaction, or more precisely lack thereof. And so seconds pass while I continue counting. When the count gets to twenty I simply cross out his name from the journal, which makes him freeze in absolute shock as his eyes shoot wide open.

  "I’m sorry to hear about your decision. Is there anything else ‘Harv Forge’ can offer you?" I say while putting away the journal.

  His jaw opens and closes in silence while his face changes several colors, only to be interrupted when a huge man behind shoves him away.

  "If you don’t want anything, let others order." the next customer says loudly while looking at the previous one with annoyance.

  The loud ex-customer tries to talk back but is shut down by glares from everyone else in the queue. A moment later he left the smithy.

  "Can you repair this?" the huge man says after dropping a large axe in front of me before I could officially greet him.

  Right to the point huh?

  I pick up and inspect the large weapon with chips covering the edge. My mana slowly crawls over it, verifying my observation. About a dozen seconds later I place it back on the counter and turn to the huge man.

  "As far as I see there are two main options: First, the fast and cheap one, I file off the area of the edge with the chips. But that means that the cutting surface and total weight will decrease quite a bit. The alternative is to reforge the whole thing." I say, shaking my head.

  A grimace appears on his face. "How much?"

  "A single gold and you can get it back within the same day for the first case. Five gold and about a week of work for the second."

  He pauses and studies me for several seconds while the crowd behind him awaits silently.

  "What would you recommend?"

  "It depends on your budget, time constraint, and fighting style. If you’re short on the first two, take the first option. But there comes the question of weight distribution and reduction in the edge size... If you have time and emotional attachment to the axe, the second option could be bearable, but I would NOT call it an ideal solution. The alternative to those two options, if you’re not constrained by budget, is to simply buy a new one."

  He nods slowly, parsing my response.

  "What if I make a custom order?"

  I pick up the journal again and flip to the very last page. After reading the last entry I turn back to the customer.

  "I’m sorry but I can't promise anything earlier than the end of next month and the price would be higher than if you would’ve bought one available from a shop."

  He nods again, unbothered by the delay and price.

  "Okay. Do I need to pay now?" he asks, stretching to his pouch.

  "No, not now. I’ll make a reservation by writing down your name with the order general overview and provide you with a date, on which we can start the order process. We’ll discuss the details and the final price on that date. Half of that price is paid in deposit on the same date, while the other half after the order is completed and received by you."

  "Can you add pathways to it too?" he says, narrowing his eyes.

  "Yes."

  The customer grins and nods.

  I quickly fill the entry in the journal with his name and provide him the date when he has to return, after which he leaves the smithy with a wide and satisfied smile.

  The queue moves on as some of the people buy the premade weapons on the display, but most just ask about custom orders.

  Thankfully Mike isn’t here. I haven’t seen him in a while. We’ve been avoiding each other... Frankly speaking, I don’t know how he would’ve reacted if he’d seen this queue and the noise they make. Would he attempt to throw everyone out? Would he try to raise the rent price? One can’t be sure.

  I’ve been looking into renting my smithy, but the price of all the available ones around is utterly absurd. I mean it doesn’t make sense, at least for the ones I’m considering.

  How can a monthly rent cost be more than a hundred gold, and yet the price of the same building be just three thousand?

  How?

  Why would less than three years of rent cost more than the building itself?

  IT’S JUST A DAMN RENT!

  TEMPORARY USE MOTHERFUCKERS!

  Again, it simply makes no sense. Why wouldn’t one just buy it directly if the rent is so high? Maybe take a loan from the bank?

  The buying part is actually on the table, as in I’m considering it.

  It’s hard to believe but I’ve earned more in these past two weeks than in my whole life. The last time I checked I had something like seven hundred gold in my bank account.

  Seven hundred gold, which translates to seventy thousand copper coins... With the current price of bread that would be... seventy thousand divided by eleven coppers, uh, between six and seven thousand loaves of bread. A veritable house made of bread. You could fill a swimming pool with such a number and swim in it to your heart’s content. And if the price drops back down to seven coppers, the price it was just several months ago that number would increase to a whopping ten thousand.

  Naturally, my mouth fills with saliva, but I swallow it and return to the original thought. There’s nearly another hundred gold in the smithy right now, ready to be taken to the bank. The trend doesn’t seem to stop as the number of people coming just keeps increasing.

  Who knows, maybe in a month or two I can afford my own smithy, the one I have my eyes on is especially interesting. Three and a half thousand for a large two-story building not far from the dungeon, with a separate building for storage and another for living quarters. The living quarters alone rival Lana’s bakery in size. Frankly speaking, I don’t need one so large and expensive, but other options are less than a third of its size yet still cost only about twenty percent less.

  Again the prices just don’t make sense.

  I mean I don’t need that much space in the first place and even this small corner is enough while it costs pennies to rent, but it’s not a long-term solution whatever way you look at it. And Mike can just tell me to fuck off at any moment.

  What would I even do in that case?

  Anyway, I had been thinking of expanding my selection and the number of orders I process, but that direction hasn’t been looking promising at all. All the orders I get are of such character that I simply can’t break them into smaller tasks and hire someone else to do them.

  I really tried.

  There are just too many details and steps that require my constant attention and I’m not entrusting them to some dilettante from the streets. Those who know their craft, on the other hand, will charge an arm and a leg for it, leaving no actual profit for me.

  This may explain the much higher prices my competitors have.

  The result is the same.

  I have to do everything, and frankly, I’m getting a bit tired of it.

  Maybe I should slow down and take a breather.

  It feels like I’ve done nothing but smithing all day for too long.

  Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

  But isn’t this exactly what I wanted?

  ...

  I’m practically crawling home by the time the sun starts dipping below the rooftops, dragging my feet through the near-empty streets like some horse with too much luggage. My back's bent at a ridiculous angle, a stubborn knot of aching muscle and bad posture.

  I stop near a fencepost, grit my teeth, and try bending the other way—just enough to coax my spine back into something resembling alignment. A few satisfying cracks echo down my back, but the relief is short-lived. It still feels off, like some invisible gear got jammed and now refuses to turn.

  I try again. And again. But no matter how many creaks and pops I wring out of myself, nothing clicks quite right.

  Keeping my back straight is just one part of the misery. Truth be told, I should probably sit more during the day, even when talking to customers. The problem? The moment I sit down, someone’s at the counter with a busted blade or warped gear, and I have to get right back up to inspect damage. That constant up-and-down cycle wears thin fast. My body isn’t made of springs, after all.

  There has to be a way to streamline things.

  I vaguely remember seeing something in a fancy merchant's workshop once—a strange movable chair attached to a low, rolling table. Height-adjustable. Compact. Covered in tiny wheels. The man glided around his space like a king on his throne, never needing to stand once.

  But that floor was smooth tile. Polished. Flat.

  The smithy’s floor? Not so much. Round stones jut out everywhere, like it’s trying to trip me on purpose. Those tiny wheels would get jammed instantly.

  Still... what if I made my own version?

  Bigger wheels. Sturdy ones that can handle uneven ground. Maybe even some locking levers so it won’t roll off mid-swing when I’m hammering something delicate. Add a wide drawer system within arm’s reach—one for tools, maybe a few shallow trays small items I'm working on. A high-backed seat with real padding—expensive padding—and built-in pouches for coins, parchment, a waterskin... maybe even a snack stash.

  The thought alone feels like a blessing from the gods.

  A mobile command station.

  Now that sounds tempting.

  Hm.

  Yet wouldn’t that make me look somewhat lazy and unprofessional? Could that impact the sales in some way?

  Wait.

  Didn’t Joe mention something like that in one of his ramblings?

  But, maybe he’s right...

  Whatever.

  I’ll think it over when I have my own smithy.

  One step after another.

  A few minutes later I enter the bakery and start walking to the stairs leading to my room on the second floor, only to stop when I notice Lana sitting quietly in the corner. I nearly missed her because of how still she was while looking at some kind of album in her hands. She slowly turns to me as if she just noticed my arrival and quickly shuts the album.

  "Hello hard worker, how was your day?" she asks.

  "Okayish, a bit too much work, nothing new so far. What about you, Lana?" I look around at the empty shelves "Did everything sell out?"

  The moment those words left my mouth I noticed a strange smile appear on her face.

  "What’s wrong?" I ask instantly.

  "Just a long day and a small headache because the weather keeps changing back and forth. I’m not young anymore however peachy I look " She says, shaking her hips slightly, trying to change the subject, but the strange smile is still somehow there.

  I pause.

  No.

  Without a word, I sat on the chair next to her.

  "Everything is okay, sweetie. There’s nothing for you to worry about, in an hour the headache will go away." she says.

  I study her face for a few short moments until my head shakes slowly in response.

  "What’s wrong?" I repeat while looking her directly in the eyes.

  For several long minutes, we sit, while she tries to change the subject again and have some small talk. But I continue to shake my head from time to time.

  I give her all the time in the world.

  Without a word, her facade falls apart and she hugs me. We sit silently while her hand caresses my back and I respond by hugging her back somewhat awkwardly.

  At some point, she released me and started fussing over how wrinkled and dirty my clothes are. After which she switched to my wild hair and soot-covered face. There is a valid reason for the last one, yet I refuse to elaborate on it more than just ‘things sometimes explode’.

  Soon she starts talking while I just nod in response, not interrupting her and rarely asking for clarification. But her answers don’t provide any more details as she doesn’t know much. She heard some rumors, but all of that should always be taken with a grain of salt.

  The reason the shelves are empty is simple: she didn’t get any flour today from the ‘Supply Minister’ office.

  She doesn’t know if it’s because of a shortage or something else. But what has been made quite clear is that the price has risen, and it may change again quite soon. By her estimation, the price of the same loaf of bread I was thinking about today would have to be adjusted to around 15 coppers. And that’s IF she's able to acquire the flour and get it by market price in the first place. And that’s not even taking into account IF anyone would even buy the final product at such a price.

  Lana explained that she was already adding minimal margin on the bread, without getting any profit for the past month, hoping to keep afloat until the flour prices went down again. But it doesn’t seem that this will happen. It’s nearly autumn and the reports of this year's harvest have started coming in.

  They aren’t good.

  People have been in denial but the Red Wave is upon us. Monsters have been plaguing the countryside and with the army stretched thin because of the rebellion in the East, things look pretty grim.

  The number of customers is already much lower than it was just a year ago, and it’s continuing to drop. The reason is that the simple folk can afford less and less, and while everyone needs to eat, people have already started tightening their belts. Cooking themselves whatever they can and buying less and cheaper stuff.

  I’ve noticed more homeless on the streets and the prices on everything seemed to have risen quite a bit in the last few months, but it didn’t impact me that much because my income had changed to a whole different level ever since I got the adventurer badge.

  While working as an adventurer I earned several times what any average laborer in the city made. But now that I’m officially a smith it has moved beyond that. I mean I earn enough to buy several hundred loaves of bread every single day and still have money left after that. I don’t think many in the city can claim the same.

  I have no idea how people are surviving.

  How could a family survive on only four to six gold a month, the average laborers salary? It just doesn’t make sense! That’s six hundred copper coins. Divided by the price of a single loaf it would be only around forty loaves, and that’s for a whole month. A loaf and a third per day... What about other expenses? Rent? Clothes? Utilities? What if you have a family or children?

  How is Lana going to survive?

  The decision is made instantly.

  Slowly I place a pouch in Lana’s hands, with conviction that this is the right decision.

  I’m quickly proven wrong.

  Lana’s reaction is exactly the opposite of what I expected.

  It’s the first time I’ve ever heard her practically screaming and swearing with a red face. I’m so shocked it takes nearly a dozen seconds to act. I try to calm her down and stop the shouting while raising my hands defensibly, but that only makes her more furious. My attempts to say anything are instantly interrupted by a stream of swearing for looking down on older people and taking pity on them.

  By some miracle, an idea materializes in my head which can drag me out of the situation I created and I push it forward trying to do anything before she throws the pouch into my face.

  She paused when I said that I was only trying to pay for the rent in advance. Pouncing on the gap, I continue, pushing with the idea, allowing the words to flow out. Her eyes narrowed when I mentioned that it was for half a year ahead. I froze when my eyes turned to the pouch in her hand. And at that moment I knew that I fucked up.

  The pouch is too big.

  With a glare, she slowly opened the pouch with a small mountain of gold coins in it and resumed railing.

  I totally forgot that there was more than a hundred gold in there, enough to pay for three years of rent.

  She continued scolding and lecturing me about throwing around money... Ironic... It was she that nearly threw that pouch at my face but I kept that to myself and just nodded to everything she said.

  In the end, I only paid for half a year of rent.

  Fifteen gold coins that were practically shoved into Lana’s hand, as he kept refusing to take the money.

  In the end my stubbornness won.

  I made a note for myself.

  People have their pride and don’t like when they’re simply given things.

  Yet the bigger revelation was how unbothered I was by that amount of gold.

  After getting a good warm bath I returned to my room and sat quietly contemplating the event.

  The rent is three gold. Three small gold coins.

  The Adventurer Guild registration is ten gold. And it took me two weeks of constant hunting wildlife in the woods to collect that.

  The tiny mithril chunk cost twenty gold coins. Nearly everything I earned by doing small jobs while being an apprentice.

  And yet I earned several dozen times that in just two weeks.

  While a lucky laborer earns just six gold coins a month.

  I mean I never really looked into the monetary system that much, but isn’t the discrepancy a bit too much?

  Or are my skills just that valuable?

  ...

  "You don’t look so good, Harv." says Olev as I join everyone at our usual table in the ‘Old boar’.

  "Just tired... A lot of work in the smithy."

  "You seem more than just tired."

  Joe chuckles, breaking away from his food.

  "Don’t you know? Harv is a celebrity." he says, raising his mug. "There are hundreds on his waiting list and it just continues growing. His name’s already spoken on the same level as those old goats from the main street."

  Joe turns to me and continues with fervor.

  "Speaking of the main street. Have you already thought of opening your own shop somewhere closer to the center? I can already see it: a big shop with shelves upon shelves of ‘Harv bows’ and swords." he says, panning his hand in the air.

  I sigh deeply.

  "Yes, I did. But it’s not that easy, the prices are just plain stupid. " I draw out while shaking my head, "I’ll need many months to afford anything like that. Then it will take weeks to organize the smithy, paperwork, establish a supply chain, and tell everyone I moved there. I don’t know. It seems like too much work at this point."

  "You need to unwind, man." interrupts Olev.

  I pause.

  "Maybe. But there’s quite some backlog and new orders just continue coming. So much stuff still needs to be done, so much organization and preparation that I barely have-"

  "Harv." says Vana "Don’t stress about it. It’s all just routine. It’s normal. But you must set aside a little time for yourself. Nothing will happen if you slow down a bit, give yourself a day or two of rest."

  Huh?

  Wait.

  That’s true.

  Aren’t I stressing about it too much?

  No one will die if an order takes a bit more time to complete, right?

  "...Hm... Actually, no, you’re right. I’ve been working non-stop for weeks without a single break. I think I earned a few days off."

  "Exactly!" Olev exclaims. "A person can’t just do the same thing every day! People need variety in their lives. We can-"

  "Hey! No shirking!" Vana cuts in harshly. "You promised Brian and your uncle!"

  Olev suddenly cringes.

  Vana turns back to me.

  "Harv, find a hobby or a way to get your mind off of work. Something that you enjoy besides your work... and fighting."

  I freeze.

  What do I even enjoy doing?... I never really did anything besides smithing and training...

  She continues without missing a beat.

  "Don’t you have something to keep your mind and hands busy? Like drawing, sewing or sculpting... Hey, wait a minute... You’re good with your hands, right?"

  "Ha!" exclaims Joe, while pointing his finger at her. "No way you’re getting him into your creepy doll cult!"

  "It’s not a cult! It’s an elite club. And they’re not creepy!"

  "They are! Weird and creepy"

  "No! They’re not!"

  "Says an adult collecting antique dolls, and sewing dresses for them! And if you believe that’s normal then I’ve sad news for you." smugly counters Joe.

  "I’m an appreciator of art!" she practically screams while rising from her chair in indignation.

  "Those creepy dolls aren’t art! And you’re not a small girl to play with them!"

  "I’m not playing with them you bonehead, I’m appreciating them! And it’s none of your business what I or Harv do as a hobby!"

  Joe tries to respond, but he’s ignored as Vana turns back to me and continues, leaning on the table.

  "Don’t you want to give it a try? I have a doll which recently broke. And I know that you make those shields, knives, and bows, so this won’t be that hard!"

  I smile politely and try to smoothly move away from the subject, but Vana clutches tightly to the subject and promises to bring the doll to the smithy next week.

  Olev just sits quietly and shoves food into his mouth, ignoring what his fiancé is asking.

  It looks like they’re quite compatible. A ‘book’ reader and a doll ‘collector’.

  My eyes turn to the pocket enthusiast who’s devouring his dinner. He isn’t much better either.

  And they’re calling me weird...

  Comparably, Edd is the normal one. He’s an admirer of the... softer part of the world. Can’t say that many could fault him. There’s just something hypnotizing about those tender mountains of flesh which seem to melt in your hands as you massage them until the perky peaks-

  Hm.

  I haven’t seen Tara in a while.

  ...

  I have a problem, a supply problem.

  Because of the number of orders I get, I’ve encountered a logistics issue. I mean Joe has been very helpful with sourcing most of the ingredients from all kinds of shops, greatly decreasing the workload on my side, which in turn increased my production speed. But there are a few items that require much more attention and knowledge of the subject. Even if I provide all the required parameters and properties, a keen mana sense is required to make the correct selection out of a wide range of selection.

  Like the mana oil and binding material.

  The problem is that I didn’t expect a sudden rise in the price of mana oil. I’m not talking about ten or twenty percent, not even a hundred. I’m talking about a factor of eight.

  Eight fucking times!

  The shitheads in the shop looked so smug and unconcerned when they told me the price, all while trying to convince me that it was a new normal. Even after explaining that the product they’re selling is just fucking processed petroleum mixed with finely powdered mana crystals they still stood on their price.

  They even started citing the rebellion in the East as the reason for the price change, and that was the moment I nearly exploded.

  Lying to my face with such conviction!

  Mana oil is always produced locally! Always! The ingredients are available worldwide, in every fucking corner! And yet they just shrugged and continued to refer to the rebellion as the reason and that there was nothing that can be done about it.

  Other shops gave me the same response. One shop lying and deceiving I could understand, but when every single shop repeated the same? There is no way that not a single one of them knows the production process of the goods they are selling.

  The whole thing somehow reminds me of the situation with the wheat. This seems orchestrated...

  Any person with at least a basic knowledge of the subject could easily refute their false claims. And yet they all stood their ground and continued repeating the same thing and looked at me as if I were the one who was crazy.

  The other problem is the sourcing of the ingredient for ‘Creation-Bound’ weapons. They’re very specific and aren’t available everywhere. For Light and my tools, I had to go through every single shop that dealt with such exotic materials, and thoroughly examine and verify them before finally performing the purchase. That took days!

  I simply don’t have so much time on my hand anymore. And the reason is very simple: I've got an important order in the next few days. A VERY IMPORTANT ORDER.

  Four Creation-Bound sabers for a pair of twins in very strange clothes who were accompanied by several fully armed guards. They wanted all four sabers to be identical, to the very last corner. The important part is that they weren’t bothered at all when I notified them that such a special order with four large sabers could exceed a thousand gold in price. They just nodded and said that it wasn’t a problem.

  They were ready to pay the full price then and there.

  So far I didn’t get even one order for bound weapons, and then suddenly there appeared one for four at the same time. Naturally, I moved them to the top of my order queue and told them to come back in two days, while I prepared everything for the order.

  The way they approached the order is totally different from all the other customers I had so far. There was no playing around. They knew what they wanted and were ready to pay the required price at that very moment. I couldn’t just tell them to come back in a week or more while I sourced the materials for their order. What would that even look like? A smith without materials is the same as a lumberjack with no axe or a mage with no mana.

  This order may be the one that finally allows me to buy that smithy I’ve kept my eyes on. Taking a mortgage requires at least a third of the value as a down payment. I verified that with the bank.

  Therefore I decided to close the smithy today and take this situation with all the attention it requires.

  And I’ve got just the right person for that. If I’ve got surface knowledge of the subject, then Tara is a real professional with not only in-depth knowledge and experience but also a close connection with the industry suppliers. Maybe she can share a few of them or just point me in the right direction.

  An argument can be made that I already know the correct place and can just go to the same merchant from which I bought the ingredient for binding Heavy and my tools, their exorbitant prices are no longer an issue with an order of this magnitude.

  But I would still like to explore this direction... just because...

  There are no other motives.

  And it’s not like I use this excuse as a reason to see her.

  That’s exactly why I’m not going to her house after work hours to have a private meeting in her apartment but rather wait outside on the main street in front of her house in the early hours when she should go to work to have a public meeting.

  I’m not creepy or weird!

  That’s a totally normal reason!

  Work is important!

  This order is important!

  Slowly minutes pass as people around go their way while the merchants loudly announce their wares. Likely the same words they said yesterday, and the day before, and the one before that. But if they continue doing that this means it works, right?

  The waves of masses move endlessly and it feels as if they would never end. People in different clothes ranging from patched-up clothes of laborers and ending with the guards in full-plate armor guarding those in colorfully silk attire all walk with a specific direction in mind, with purpose and goal.

  A few months ago this scene caused a feeling of detachment or alienation, but now it just seems as if I’m looking at the organs of a large creature called Rockwall City function. Same as when a person's lungs and heart move. Up and down, left and right, again and again until their very last day.

  Frankly speaking, there are some concerning changes in myself. Why concerning? Because I didn’t notice their gradual change until the very moment that difference could not be ignored. The attitude to money and busy masses are only the recent ones. What other changes are occurring right now and I just don’t notice?

  I don’t get to mull over the subject for long as a familiar head of brown curls exits the building. A small smile starts to spread across my face as I start raising my hand to wave at her only to freeze as someone else exits the building just behind her. She locks her arm around his and smiles widely.

  My eyes turn to the man and I instantly recognize him. How could I not? She described her boss many many times. Always complaining about how much work he gave her or how he scolded her publically for arriving late or making even the slightest of mistakes.

  While they walked ahead with arms locked her eyes suddenly jumped to me and froze, but only for a few short moments. She blinked in recognition and confusion, but quickly turned back to the man and continued smiling. The man didn’t notice the pause and they just continued on their way.

  They walked further and passed by me.

  I just nodded and started walking away.

  There’s no need to leave, I could still ask about the ingredients and her boss is conveniently also there.

  But I won’t.

  Good lessons are only good if you learn from them.