Harper's voice was calm, almost detached, as he gestured toward the cages. "Looking for food?" he asked simply.
The trio nodded... their faceless masks didn't bother the man, and from the way he was looking at them, it even seemed as if he could see through their helmets.
Mei stepped forward. "Yes. Chickens… eggs. We've been searching all day."
"You've come to the right place… I'm Harper, a very normal merchant."
That was a suspicious introduction, but the three didn't bother to comment about it.
Harper studied them for a moment, his hands still resting on the half‑finished wooden figure. His aura was strange… not like a merchant's, but more like a warrior's.
He carried himself with confidence, as though this stall was merely a pastime.
"These aren't for medals," Harper said firmly. "I don't trade in your currency."
Claire tilted her head. "Not for Survivor Medals? Then what do you want?"
Harper relaxed in his chair as his gaze drifted toward the cages.
