When the shop door closed behind House Halven's envoy, Edgar stood still for a moment, as if deciding whether to speak immediately or wait for the tension to fade on its own. But it was obvious he had no intention of pretending nothing had happened.
"You really want to sell to them," he said at last, irritation undisguised. "All of it. Everything we brought back from the route,weapons, materials, higher-grade cores. Stuff we could sell for far more if it went to the right people."
Mr. Klein didn't answer right away.
He closed the ledger, straightened it on the counter, and only then looked at his son,calm, not angry, as if this conversation had been inevitable the moment he saw the pass.
"Yes," he said simply.
Edgar's jaw tightened.
"You know they'll force the price down," he pressed. "They always do. They'll pay whatever they decide is 'appropriate,' and we'll have to accept it, because otherwise…"
"Because otherwise they stop doing business with us," Mr. Klein finished evenly. "And that is exactly why I'm doing it."
Edgar turned sharply and paced several steps across the shop, like he needed motion just to keep the frustration from choking him.
"In the short term we could make a fortune," he said, hands cutting through the air. "You know people in other cities. You know what they pay for this kind of thing. Weapons made from dungeon materials,cores of that quality, those shouldn't end up in a noble house's hands for half the price."
Mr. Klein nodded.
"I know," he said. "And you're right."
Edgar stopped and stared at him as if he couldn't believe what he'd heard.
"Then why,?"
"Because in the long term we'd lose everything," his father cut in. "If House Halven found out we sold that stock to someone else, they'd see it as disloyalty,or an attempt to bypass their position. And then it wouldn't just be that they stopped coming to us."
Mr. Klein leaned slightly over the counter.
"They'd cut us off," he added more quietly. "From deliveries. From cores. From monster parts. From everything that comes out of the dungeons."
Roland stood off to the side, pretending to focus on the paperwork, listening hard. The conversation was peeling back something he'd always known,but had never heard spoken this plainly.
"The houses hold the monopoly," Mr. Klein continued. "They control the dungeons, the expeditions, the gates,and the people who come back through them. If they turn away from us, they'll find someone else. Someone more obedient. And we'll be left with an empty storeroom and a handful of 'contacts' that mean nothing."
Edgar lowered his gaze.
"So we're replaceable," he said bitterly.
"We always were," Mr. Klein replied without hesitation. "And we always will be,until this order changes."
Silence hung in the shop for a beat.
"The worst part," Edgar said after a moment, "is that even knowing you're right… It still makes me furious."
Mr. Klein nodded once.
"Me too," he said. "But fury doesn't pay bills and it doesn't secure supply."
Edgar leaned on the counter and let out a heavy breath.
"So we sell cheaper, just to be allowed to sell at all."
"Exactly," his father confirmed.
Then Mr. Klein looked at Roland.
"Tomorrow you're coming with me to the Halven estate," he said calmly. "You'll carry the documents and record the terms."
Roland froze.
"Me?" he asked, unable to hide his surprise.
"Yes," Mr. Klein said. "Edgar will run the shop while I'm gone."
Edgar glanced at Roland, then at his father, like he wanted to say more,but in the end he only nodded.
Unease crawled through Roland, along with the clear understanding that this wasn't an offer.
It was a decision.
"…Alright," he said at last. "I'll go."
Mr. Klein nodded, the matter settled.
***
The next day, Roland woke earlier than usual,though he didn't need to. He would've made it to the shop on time either way. But once his eyes opened, sleep refused to return. A thin tension sat in his chest, shapeless, yet present in every movement he made.
After washing his face, he lingered in front of the small mirror hung above the basin. He adjusted his shirt and belt, then tried to tame his hair into something that looked even slightly better than normal.
It was harder than he expected.
The moment he let go, it sprang back into its usual mess.
He tried again, smoothing it down with a hand dampened with water. Then he stepped back and stared at his reflection with a critical eye, as if he might suddenly see someone who belonged where he was about to go.
"Roland," his mother called from the kitchen, watching him for a moment with amused eyes, "even women don't stand in front of a mirror as long as you are today."
Heat rose into his cheeks.
"I just…" he started, then stopped. He couldn't even explain properly why it mattered so much.
His mother only smiled and went back to what she was doing. Roland finally decided there was nothing more he could do, put on his shoes, and left the apartment,feeling both nervous and faintly embarrassed that he cared about something like this.
The walk to the shop felt shorter than usual.
When he stepped inside, Mr. Klein was already there. Two adventurers stood beside him, both dressed in sturdy gear marked by travel and battle. They held crates and bundles secured with straps and seals.
Roland moved closer on instinct.
"That's everything for today," one of the adventurers said, setting a bundle on the counter. "Just like we agreed."
Mr. Klein nodded and took the notebook Roland had already prepared. Then he pulled a small object from his pocket and handed it to Roland without a word.
A pen.
At first glance it looked ordinary, but Roland immediately felt the difference,its weight, its texture. When he examined it more closely, he spotted fine runes engraved along the metal.
"It doesn't need ink," Mr. Klein said evenly. "It writes whatever your hand dictates. Be careful with it."
Roland nodded, his heart beating faster.
He knew how valuable a magical item like that was.
He held it carefully the entire time, almost afraid to loosen his grip,like if he set it down for even a moment, something would happen to it.
When they left the shop and headed toward the inner part of the city, Roland felt it for the first time, sharply and unmistakably:
He was walking somewhere he didn't belong.
The wall separating the aristocratic district from the rest of the city was tall and spotless, without the repairs and makeshift reinforcements Roland was used to seeing. The guards at the gate were different too,their armor well kept, unscarred, their movements calm and certain.
They stopped Mr. Klein and Roland without hurry.
The two guards at the inner gate didn't even shift their stance when they approached, as if the way they walked alone told the guards this wasn't trouble.
"Where to?" one of them asked, looking down at Klein without raising his voice.
Mr. Klein produced the pass with an unhurried motion and offered it silently.
The guard took the metal token between two fingers, examined both sides carefully, then glanced at his partner, as if making sure he saw the same thing.
"House Halven," the second guard murmured. "A merchant."
There was no surprise in it. No respect, either.
"You're cleared to enter," the first guard said, returning the token. "But only along the assigned route. No wandering."
"Of course," Mr. Klein replied politely, as if he'd heard the warning a hundred times before.
The guard's eyes slid to Roland, lingering a little longer than necessary.
"And who's that?" he asked.
"An assistant," Mr. Klein said. "For the documents."
The guard gave a quiet snort.
"Keep him close," he said, stepping aside and opening the way. "Not everyone likes someone like that roaming around on this side of the wall."
Mr. Klein nodded in thanks, but there was no servility in him,only a cool, practiced courtesy built over years.
The moment they crossed through, Roland felt the difference.
It wasn't just the silence,though that was the first thing that hit. The streets were wide, and the city's noise was muted by distance and utility magic that kept sound from carrying the way it did in districts where people lived packed together.
The buildings were bright and clean, untouched by quick fixes or patchwork. The sidewalks were so even Roland almost felt guilty setting his dirty boots on them, painfully aware of how little he fit here.
Walking beside Mr. Klein, he couldn't help watching the people they passed.
Women wore long, layered dresses of silk and soft wool, often in pale colors,white and gold,sleeves so wide and impractical Roland couldn't imagine doing any real work in them. Jewelry set with core-crystals glittered with every movement, a quiet declaration of wealth that didn't need to hide.
A few of them looked to be his age.
Roland caught himself staring too long, fascinated and intimidated at once. They didn't look like girls from his district. They looked like they belonged to another world, cleaner, calmer.
One of them glanced at him.
There was no curiosity in her eyes. No embarrassment.
Only contempt.
Not open. Not aggressive,just cold and obvious, as if the very fact he'd looked at her was inappropriate.
Roland snapped his gaze away, something unpleasant tightening in his chest.
"Focus," Mr. Klein said, giving him a light smack on the back of the head,not angry, but sharp enough to bring him back. "Those aren't women who see you as anyone worth noticing, so don't waste your time."
Roland felt his cheeks warm.
"Better to watch your step and your documents," the merchant added calmly. "That's the only thing here that matters to you."
They continued in silence.
Roland didn't look around as much after that. He focused on the road and the notebook he carried, feeling more and more clearly that this place wasn't meant for people like him,even if he'd been allowed in for the moment.
At last, they stopped before the tall gate of House Halven's estate,massive and immaculate, without needless decoration, as if its presence alone was enough to remind everyone nearby who ruled here.
Mr. Klein adjusted his coat and glanced at Roland.
"From here on, you listen and you write," he said. "And remember where you are."
Roland nodded.
And standing before a place ordinary people were never allowed to enter, he felt it, truly, for the first time,how heavy the walls were that split the city into two different worlds.