Ren sat behind the shop counter with his chin in his hand, watching a piece of thread try to crawl across the floor like it had somewhere better to be.
REN (bored):
"I've fought ancient beasts, traveled galaxies, and today I'm babysitting sentient yarn."
The shop was quiet.
Too quiet.
He eyed the mannequins. They stared back.
REN:
"Don't start."
MANNEQUIN (Rolan, voice like a bored lounge singer):
"Darling, you started by existing."
Then the bell over the door rang.
A customer stepped in.
REN (sitting up fast):
"Oh crap. Actual business?"
Customer #1 – Grumpy Old Tailor
The man was old. Cloak torn. Beard like angry moss.
OLD TAILOR:
"Need a reinforced stitching layer. Last one tore mid-ceremony. My trousers betrayed me."
REN:
"Got it. Trauma pants. Classic."
OLD TAILOR:
"And don't use the shiny thread. I don't need my ass reflecting moonlight."
REN (digging through drawers):
"Understood. No moon-ass. Anti-flash. Dignity layer. Got it."
Ren grabbed the right spool.
Rolan whispered behind him.
ROLAN:
"He's cute in a 'definitely yells at bread' kind of way."
REN (whispering):
"Not now, Rolan."
ROLAN:
"Tell him we offer complimentary thigh tension enhancement."
REN (deadpan):
"Do you want to be set on fire again?"
Tailor left with pants. No tip.
Ren exhaled.
Then the bell rang again.
Customer #2 – Overly Enthusiastic Witch-in-Training
She practically skipped in.
Purple hair, too many necklaces, smelled like cinnamon and poorly contained ambition.
WITCH GIRL:
"Hi! I need a cloak that screams 'I know basic summoning but won't destroy your house!'"
REN (blinking):
"...That's oddly specific."
WITCH GIRL:
"My last cloak said 'fire hazard.' It wasn't wrong."
Ren handed her something light blue with stitched sigils.
WITCH GIRL:
"Ohh, does it come in 'don't curse me if I fail this exam'?"
REN:
"We can embroider a prayer into the hem."
WITCH GIRL (giggling):
"You're kinda cute for a clerk."
REN (grabbing receipt crystal):
"I've shit myself in public. Keep the flirting mild."
She left with her new cloak.
MANNEQUIN (whispers):
"She could summon me anytime."
REN:
"YOU'RE A STICK WITH ABS."
Bell rang again.
Customer #3 – Screaming Half-Orc Dad with Baby
HALF-ORC (carrying screaming toddler):
"NEED—ROBES—THAT—DON'T—TEAR—WHEN—I'M—RUNNING!"
REN (panicked):
"Sir, please lower your v—"
HALF-ORC:
"DO YOU HAVE SNOT RESISTANT FABRIC?!"
REN:
"I—what? Is that a thing?!"
Ren ran into the back, grabbed the babyproofed threadset, and slapped it on the counter.
REN:
"This one's washable, durable, and doesn't scream when exposed to milk."
HALF-ORC (tearful):
"You are the thread-angel."
Ren collapsed into the stool.
REN:
"I can't believe I just saved a dad from baby juice."
ROLAN (mannequin):
"That's a sentence you'll never unthink."
The door rang again.
Everything went silent.
Even the mannequins froze.
Veyrix Kuron stepped inside like darkness followed him.
Black coat. Red eyes. Dignity like a damn guillotine.
REN (too tired to care):
"Oh. Hey. Vampire king guy."
VEYRIX (flat):
"Where is Marra?"
REN (standing slowly):
"She... uh… she left.
Some... priest business?
Scrolls? Threads? Something important. Not soup-related."
VEYRIX (stepping closer):
"You're making this worse with every word."
REN (grinning nervously):
"I usually do."
Veyrix leaned in, slow and cold.
VEYRIX (soft but sharp):
"This is your last warning, traveler.
Stay out of our politics.
Next time, I don't speak first."
He turned.
Left.
Didn't close the door behind him.
The wind did.
REN (to Rolan):
"I think I just got threatened by a guy who moisturizes with blood."
ROLAN:
"He can threaten me anytime."